“What did happen?” asked Mary. “They were going to summon the energic powers of the Earth, and instead—Queen Tera rose from the dead. How? Why?”
Mrs. Poole put the teapot between them. “It’s good and hot,” she said. “Would either of you care for milk?”
“Yes, please, Mrs. Poole,” said Isaac. “You remind me a great deal of my mother. I believe you would like each other, although she speaks only a few words of English.”
“She would still be more understandable than half the people who were born and bred here!” said Mrs. Poole acerbically. “Sometimes the costers and cabbies mumble so, and speak so fast, one can’t hear a thing they’re saying.”
She put the milk jug on the table, then poured some milk into a bowl and put it by the door. In a moment, two cats, one gray, one orange, were lapping loudly and contentedly at the milk.
Isaac laughed. “They have a good appetite.”
“The orange one is Alpha, the gray one is Omega,” said Mary. “And yes, they’re growing fast. They were scrawny little things when we found them abandoned in the park. But about Queen Tera—”
“I don’t know any more about it than you do,” said Isaac. “Moriarty’s plan, what I overheard of it, was to abduct the Queen herself during her visit to Cornwall. How exactly, I do not know. But he was going to stay in a town named Marazion on the coast—Moran asked me to write for reservations at an inn there.”
“Marazion!” said Mrs. Poole. “Her Majesty will be in Marazion on Thursday. She is scheduled to tour St. Michael’s Mount.”
Mary looked up at her, startled. “How do you know that, Mrs. Poole?”
“Why, it’s right in the newspaper. Now, where did I put… I was going to use it for the fire.” Mrs. Poole leaned down and rooted through a box of kindling by the large iron stove. “Ah yes, here it is. But it’s got dirt all over it and I just washed the table! Ah well, I can certainly wash it again.” She put a copy of that morning’s Daily Telegraph on the table, by the teapot. “There, you see?” On the first page was an article titled “Her Majesty to Visit Cornwall,” next to one about Bertha Benz, the lady motorist, and her spectacular attempt to drive from Budapest to London in the new Benz motorcar.
“It says she’ll be touring the coast in the royal yacht,” said Mary. “Stopping at St. Ives, Penzance, then a special tour of St. Michael’s Mount, Falmouth, St. Austell… Mrs. Poole, I’ve never been to Cornwall. I have no idea where these places are. But it looks as though St. Michael’s Mount is the only place she’ll actually be disembarking. Otherwise, she’ll stay on her yacht and greet distinguished visitors. Well, she’s quite old after all. It sounded as though Mrs. Raymond and Margaret Trelawny were going to carry out Moriarty’s plan to kidnap the Queen, for their own purposes. If they make that attempt, the obvious place would be during the tour of St. Michael’s Mount.”
“What a Godless, heathenish thing to do!” said Mrs. Poole. “I hope to goodness you’re going to stop them, miss.”
“Of course we are,” said Mary. “I don’t know how, not at the moment, but no Englishman or woman would hesitate in such a circumstance. Mr. Mandelbaum, should we attempt to join forces?”
“I don’t believe that will be possible,” he said, shaking his head regretfully. “Much as I would like to, Miss Jekyll, I do not think Mr. Holmes would permit it. He works only in secret, and while I work for him, I must as well. But I will let him know of your plans, and perhaps he will be able to help you in some way? Now, I must go—I must get my family to the train. It has been a pleasure meeting you.”
“Mr. Mandelbaum, won’t you take something with you? Biscuits, perhaps?” said Mrs. Poole.
“Thank you, but I would not take your breakfast—”
However, Mrs. Poole was already holding a bag out to him. “For your family, to eat on the train. Food purchased on a train is seldom satisfactory. One never knows about its quality, or how long it has sat in the heat. And these are not breakfast—I make a proper breakfast, I assure you!”
“You are one of the good angels who walks this Earth, Mrs. Poole,” said Isaac. “And, Miss Jekyll, I hope we will meet again in the not-too-distant future.”
Mary held out her hand to shake his, but he leaned down and kissed hers. “Do zobaczenia, piękna,” he said.
Well, he was European, after all! Mary had gotten more or less used to this hand-kissing business in Europe. She was startled by it here in England, but he was only being polite. “I hope so too, Mr. Mandelbaum,” she said.
And then he was gone, out the back door. Alpha slipped out at the same time.
Omega, who was more shy than his sister, looked up at her inquiringly. She picked up the cat and scratched him under the chin. He purred loudly and nuzzled against her shoulder.
“Mrs. Poole, could you—”
“Look up the trains to Marazion? I’ll do that as soon as I’ve washed the table. Just look at this dirt, and these little splinters of wood! One of those will go in Archibald’s finger if I don’t wash up now. He’s not as careful as Alice. I’ll have breakfast for you girls in half an hour.”
“Thank you. I’ll check on Justine, and then I’ll need to go to the headquarters of the Baker Street boys, wherever that is. I need to figure out what happened to Dr. Watson. He was wounded in an attack on the house in Soho, but I don’t know how badly. I assume he’s in a hospital somewhere? And I have to thank Wiggins for his rescue attempt—well, both rescue attempts. You know, I don’t think I appreciated those boys enough before. They may be foolhardy, but they’re certainly brave. Then I think another trip to the British Museum is indicated. We need as much information as possible on Queen Tera and Margaret Trelawny. I hope the exhibit itself will tell me more about—well, who Queen Tera is, and how in the world they resurrected her. There’s so much I don’t understand!”
“I’m with you, miss,” said Mrs. Poole. “Resurrecting ancient Egyptian mummies who want to become Queen of England? It’s beyond me.”
“Empress of the world, it sounds more like, from the way she was speaking,” said Mary.
“Either way, it’s the strangest adventure you girls have had yet. I can’t quite wrap my head around it.”
“Neither can I. Nevertheless, we have to do something—the Queen herself is in danger. Do you think we could be packed and ready to go to Cornwall tonight, or first thing early tomorrow morning? If we’re right in our conjectures, this kidnapping attempt won’t happen until Thursday, but I think we should get to Marazion as soon as possible. Perhaps we can stop Queen Tera before the attempt is made.”
“Don’t forget that Catherine and Beatrice will be arriving sometime this week. Catherine sent me a telegram—now, where have I put it?” Mrs. Poole sorted through a neat stack of what looked like receipts on the counter. “Yes, here it is. I received it on Friday, while you were being captured in Soho. Goodness, I sound like a penny dreadful, don’t I?” She put a telegram on the table. Mary leaned over and read what was written on the thin, cream-colored paper: