Sunday 18 July, 1870
(mid day)
We stayed at the Consulate in Antwerp last night, as we were too fatigued to make our way to the villa.
We arose for a long breakfast–not precisely leisurely, because we worked at researching and planning throughout.
We made plans for the day to answer some of the questions raised by yesterday's activities.
Of course, we had the obligatory dream report as well.
Miss Chigwidgeon had received a nocturnal communique from Miss Mitzi. She reported that our opponent Agent Schmidt is an Efreet/Fey hybrid. Miss Mitzi relayed good information to guide the Mystics' research.
Miss Whitnell had a very detailed and specific dream about the work Mr Arkwright was doing before his death. She was able to reproduce some diagrams of railway cars and a list of papers and reports he was using. If her list is accurate, it may give us insight into what he was looking for when he was murdered.
Mrs Cuthbert dreamed a catalogue of strange people. We have since met several of them It may have been an accounting of teams of agents acting for various powers. We were unable to identify all of them before we departed for the day.
I myself had a curiously vivid dream featuring Mr Frazer, but as I am not prone to clairvoyant dreaming, I didn't imagine it could be relevant.
We were obliged to leave the Consulate before we had entirely completed our researches by the crowd of reporters clamoring about at the Consulate gates. We slipped out the back way and into 4 carriages to go to our villa.
Even so simple a task was complicated by the intrusion of another wagon appearing to follow us. Our two hindmost carriages intercepted it and brought it along between them.
When we arrived at the villa, some of us took the opportunity to wash and change. Sir Cosmo and Inspector MacGregor sat with one of our prisoners, who calls himself Dr Fate (indeed!). Mr O'Flaherty took the coachman/manservant to the kitchen. Astonishingly, Mr O'Flaherty was already acquainted with this servant, an American named Fritz Mean. This fellow had apparently worked for the circus that employed Mr O'Flaherty.
Miss Chigwidgeon and I joined the gentlemen in the Parlour. Dr Fate claimed to be in Belgium to study European Medical practises. It seemed to me that he was hiding his true agenda.
While we chatted so cozily, Miss Whitnell, Mr Salmalin, Mr Cuthbert, Mrs Cuthbert, Mr Deveril and Mr Ramsay all walked about the boundaries of the Villa, checking for signs of intrusion and establishing a Mystical barrier.
Suddenly the scene was disrupted by Mrs Cuthbert crying emphatically for help. We all rushed out to her--She was showing us a set of drag marks and Mr Ramsay's walking stick. Mr Deveril and Mr Ramsay had been abducted! The fact of two sets of marks indicated that both men had been disabled, which quieted my moment's fear that Mr Deveril himself (whom we have known only a day, after all) was the culprit.
Edward set immediately to preparing the carriages again. Mrs Cuthbert and Miss Whitnell did some scrying to see what had happened.
They saw a woman, a very large man, and a smaller man concealed in the hedge near the perimeter. As Mr Deveril and Mr Ramsay walked by, these persons leapt out and struck our colleagues from behind--knocking them quite out of their senses. From the conversation, it was evident that the villains thought Mr Deveril was the infamous Kid Rocket.
We had just begun to plan our rescue foray when suddenly Dr Fate and his man made an escape: Mr O'Flaherty collapsed under the influence of some soporific gas; Dr Fate threw off his coat to reveal some rocket contraption; Mean leapt to his side and clung; Dr Fate's rockets ignited, and the two began to rise.
The Marquis quickly pounced on them, which slowed and turned their ascent, but he was forced to let go as the rockets' flames scorched him. My impulse to pursue on foot was curtailed by Lt Wooster's exclamation that the pair would fly 4 miles before coming to earth.
I hope in the future we will remember to search our prisoners, however politely they may have been taken. I should have suspected something from the odour of linseed oil that hung about the man, yet with no signs of oil paints on his hands.
By the time we revived Mr O'Flaherty and extinguished the Marquis' clothing, Edward had brought the carriages and we set out on the trail of our kidnaped friends.
Mr Frazer and Turgenov had begun the pursuit on foot. The former swung up to the carriage as we came abreast of him, and Turgenov continued on the trail.
We came to a heavily trafficked crossroads, and had to resort to scrying to be sure of the way. The Mystics saw the wagon of the kidnappers as it approached the crossroads. They saw plainly which way it went, and we followed. They also saw other unusual parties: another wagon or carriage was traveling in another direction, and slowed when the kidnappers wagon came into view. Someone came out of the second conveyance, ran at significant speed after the kidnappers' wagon, and caught hold of the back to ride along, apparently unnoticed by the kidnappers.
The scrying also revealed a large dog or wolf crossing the crossroads in yet another direction. Mr Frazer relayed Turgenov's assertion that there was something different about the scent of this wolf–he couldn't give us more details, except that it was apparently female. Some of our party suspect a Werewolf (what next, I ask you?)
Our pursuit led us to the docks on the river outside Antwerp proper. There we traced the kidnappers to a freighter of apparently Italian origin. We sent Edward aboard to stealthily reconnoiter, and he returned with a report that the large man was on the deck, the small man was in the wheelhouse talking with the captain, and the woman was in one of the holds with our two colleagues, who were both bound and gagged.
Miss Whitnell and Mrs Cuthbert provided a distraction by means of magic. They were able to create a confusion in the minds of almost everyone aboard the ship, which allowed us to simply walk on and find our way to the hold.
I found myself in the hold with Miss Whitnell,
Mrs Cuthbert, Edward, Inspector MacGregor, and Emily.
Mr Salmalin stayed on the deck to guard our retreat, and Mr O'Flaherty
insisted that he and Dr Wilson not board, as the people who had
taken our colleagues had been after him in the first place. Others
of the party dispersed about the ship to find the kidnappers.
While we were thus arranged, we suddenly found that several of our party had succumbed to confusion much as the crew of the ship had: Edward began behaving entirely like a dog, Emily looked more lost than usual. I could hear signs of confusion all about the ship.
Inspector MacGregor was struggling to cut our friends free of their bonds. Unfortunately the woman guarding them proved to be an expert swordswoman, and she seemed to be unaffected by the confusion which overmastered some of the others. Miss Whitnell was trying to protect the Inspector, but her opponent had her outmatched.
I could do little as I tried to keep Edward from running into harm's way (though I did throw a few small objects into the fray) Emily, though looking about with utter vacancy, surprised us all by parrying the woman's blows. If not for the confusion, Emily might have beaten her. As it was, Emily saved Miss Whitnell from serious harm. Mrs Cuthbert produced her tiny pistol and shot the woman, but she continued her attack. Some of the noise from above resolved itself and we were joined by Mr O'Flaherty, who walked up behind the swordswoman and struck her on the head with his bare hand. It took two blows, but she crumpled at last.
Just as we were attempting to figure out what had happened, some of the voices I had heard above on the deck registered as unfamiliar and French-speaking. I heard an authoritative voice identify itself as representing the Belgian government, come to take "the Sicilian" into custody.
A young person dressed as a gentleman came down the ladder into the hold. As this person made no hostile move, I introduced myself. The young person before me had the same lithe red-haired look that I am beginning to associate with the Fey. I was certain that this was a young woman dressed as a young man. I wonder if this gender confusion is also a Fey trait? As with Miss Mitzi, I deemed it politic to address the seeming gender, and gave my hand to M. Manfred Berri.
We left the hold and emerged on deck with our prisoner. There we encountered an older but vigorous gentleman with an eyepatch and an ornate walking stick. He seemed to be the leader of this group which had, I thought, come to our assistance. They had another colleague nearby, unseen, who had been the source of the second magical confusion.
Miss Whitnell was adamant that we make our way off the ship before further confusion (magical or ordinary) should overtake us. My efforts to learn more certainly the identities and allegiance of these other agents was not regarded. M. Berri singlehandedly lifted and carried the largest of the kidnappers--a man as large as our Mr O'Flaherty!
This group also had our other prisoner, the smaller man, in their hands. Miss Whitnell refused to turn over the swordswoman, as she had suspicion that the woman had some magical ability and might be difficult to contain. I was still attempting to politely certify the other group's credentials when who should arrive but the Belgian Gendarmes–two wagons full! Oh, the vexation when we all learned that we had turned two of our prisoners over to French agents. The French agents had quite vanished in the instant the Gendarmes arrived. I felt such a fool! The Belgian captain was polite to us despite all, and did not protest much when we insisted on keeping custody of our remaining prisoner for the time being.
We learned that the woman who was guarding our friends was perfectly aware that they had the wrong man. She had personally decided to deceive her colleagues and take Mr Ramsay, and didn't care at all about Mr Deveril or about Kid Rocket. She took Mr Ramsay in order to settle a personal vendetta. She is a former paramour of the late Baron Blackhall, and hates our friend for her lover's sake. How that weasel could inspire such devotion is quite beyond my understanding!
Our next course was to return to the Consulate and report to Captain Moriarty and let him determine what to do about our prisoner. We also hoped to learn more about the agents we had just encountered.
We were able to answer some of our questions with the help of Pennington, the Consul's butler. He diffidently steered us to some notes kept in Consul Viscount Buffton's office. This record featured descriptions and sketched portraits of several agents of various origins.
As we looked at them, Mrs Cuthbert exclaimed that she recognised several of the people pictured there from her dreams last night. We also found information about several of the French group we encountered today. In our discussion, it became clear that none of the others had perceived M. Berri's particular deceit. Although I was disinclined to reveal someone's identity, I determined that it could become important to us later. And, their group had played us false. If they had in truth been allies, I should have kept it to myself. Apparently M. Berri had been closely matched in battle with Salmalin–I couldn't tell if Salmalin was surprised by my revelation.
We also discovered that Baron DeRitter is listed here as a known French agent and, he is believed to be a Sorcerer, (though not of so dark a stripe as Comte d'Erlette).
So, now we have come full circle and are back where we started today, and not much further in our day's endeavours. We shall shortly set out once again to visit the Chapterhouse of St Jerome, where our Mystics will see what they can learn about avoiding Agent Schmidt, among other things.
We all went to the Chapterhouse, where we were met with cordiality.
The Abbott of the chapter was kind enough to invite us to his private study to show us the portrait of Comte d'Erlette he keeps there (he uses it as a target for darts). Mr Deveril identified the Comte as the same as the supposed monk who came to the Wallachian monastery and presumably stole the "Syrian Book of the Dead" and killed the young acolyte.
The Abbott informed us that the Comte has been alive and has been the Abbott's own enemy for much of the Abbott's 310 year life span. What strange people we meet!
After this little consultation, we left the Mystics to their researches and returned to the villa.
Almost immediately upon our return there, I was obliged to intercede on Mr Salmalin's behalf. Miss Chigwidgeon had apparently seen some personal note the Miss Whitnell had written to Mr Salmalin, and decided that she should talk to Mr Salmalin about it. She seems to think that Miss Whitnell has some deep personal attachment to Mr Salmalin, and had the nerve to offer him advice. Of all the indelicate notions! That she, the object of his unrequited adoration, the fiancee of his employer, and the confidante of the lady who (it seems) has some sort of attachment to him should tax him to one course of action or another--"Awkward" doesn't begin to describe it!
I burst in before he was obliged to answer Miss Chigwidgeon's questions at any great length or commit himself to any statement of feelings. Fortunately, I had a ready excuse--and a completely true one at that.
One of the tasks which we had been unable to complete due to the abduction of our comrades still awaited: Mr Salmalin and Miss Whitnell had found a spot in the perimeter fence where a small animal appeared to dig under and come onto the property. Mr Salmalin now showed this place to me, Mr Frazer, Turgenov and Owen.
Among us, we determined that the marks had been made by a small dog, and we followed its traces around the house. First it stopped at the kitchen door, where inquiry of the Cook revealed that a wretched, sick-looking little dog had come around begging, and had been given some scraps. It had then apparently walked all around the house and looked in at the windows in a distinctly un-doglike fashion.
After a canine consultation, Turgenov and Owen informed us that the very same small dog had also visited the kitchen door of the Consulate in Antwerp. Upon hearing this, we instructed the kitchen staff to let us know if the dog came to the house again. I attempted to give the impression that we wished to help the poor little mite, since if the staff knew that we need to capture and interrogate it, they might not cooperate. We can hardly allow a canine spy free rein in our headquarters.
We had also had some idea of pursuing the question
of the strange wolf at the crossroads, but on further consideration,
I thought that any signs I might have perceived would most likely
be wiped out by now, and thought that we should wait for the mystics
after all.
In the meantime, Inspector MacGregor at last had an opportunity
to wash and change his clothes (he had been complaining rather
bitterly of having been deprived of the opportunity earlier today
by our adventures with Dr Fate and the Sicilian).
Emily, Miss Chigwidgeon, and I decided to take some exercise and were engaging in our Defence lessons outside.
Lt Wooster had commissioned a project from Edward--some sort of target practice catapult device. Sir Cosmo later interrupted this by reminding Edward that he had other, more pressing projects to undertake. Lt Wooster attempted to complete the device himself, and ended by launching the villa's dining room table through a window and part of a wall, out into the garden. I was glad to have been around the other side of the house, though I imagine it was something to see.
Eventually the time rolled around for us to collect our Mystics and proceed to the Antwerp Glassworks. Miss Whitnell had much to tell us about how to avoid Agent Schmidt and many plans for implements which might help us against him. Much of Mr Ramsay's conversation was about the magical rituals &c which they would employ around our premises. It made little sense to me, but their work rarely does.
When we arrived at the Glassworks, it was the beginning of the night shift (the kilns, I understand, must be kept always hot, so there are at least some workers there at all times). Inspector MacGregor and Mr Frazer, as the official British investigators of Mr Arkwright's death, were allowed (grudgingly) in to look around and ask questions.
Meanwhile, the rest of us concealed ourselves in various places around the neighborhood. Emily and Edward and I took up a place near enough to the Mystics to help them should need arise, but far enough that I would not interfere with their scrying rituals. We hoped that their search would help us determine what had brought Mr Arkwright here during the night before he died.
Something apparently went awry with their ritual, because instead of the past being revealed to them, the past was removed from the minds of several people...by this I mean that members of our party and one or two passers by suddenly looked around them and asked what they were doing here. Emily was so severely struck that she entirely forgot who she was. I had to introduce myself to her and explain that we were friends.
An horrific shriek rent the air, and from the disturbance in the factory, I gathered that some one among the workers there had also forgotten what he was doing, and in disorientation had been burned by molten glass. Mrs Cuthbert emerged from her hiding place and went into the factory to try to help the injured man.
I feared for the safety of Mr Frazer and Inspector MacGregor! Edward seemed disoriented for a moment, but shook it off and slipped away to investigate the Factory as well. I had my hands full with Emily. Lt Wooster also wandered by and stopped to chat amiably with us. I couldn't see much difference in his understanding.
Now I could hear Miss Whitnell and Mr Ramsay at work again. They later said they were trying to reverse the disorientation effect, but they must have been rattled, because they actually made it worse. Miss Whitnell was herself affected, and couldn't remember what we were doing here, or indeed who she was.
Emily proceeded to forget everything I had told her in the past few minutes. This was a very trying chain of events!
Mrs Cuthbert returned and they tried again, this time succeeding in clearing some of the confusion in our immediate area. Emily remembered herself, and took exception to some of the things I had told her about herself (I had told her that she was a competent, confident person...not entirely true perhaps, but how could I have guessed that this flattering lie would make her so angry?).
We began the process of rounding up our company. I went in search of Edward, around the other side of the building, and found him in conversation with a flashy-looking gentleman wearing a white suit. This man was looking about for his coachman, who had presumably wandered off in confusion. Imagine our surprise when the coachman returned in the company of our Mr O'Flaherty. This coachman and the white-clad man were known to Mr OFlaherty from his circus days. It would appear that Belgium is a favorite holiday spot for all American circus performers.
Unfortunately, Edward did not tell us until slightly later that he had seen Mr Leslie Gallant (for so the white-suited man called himself) climbing about the roof and interior of the factory. How all the people within might have missed seeing a fellow in a white suit is quite beyond me.
Edward also mentioned that while he was inside the factory, he had been able to climb into a locked room by following some pipes across the ceiling (much as Mr Gallant apparently had).
The Inspector and Mr Frazer had been trying to negotiate admittance to that room when the disorientation struck.
Edward reported that the locked room had been full of guns and ammunition. Now who would store ammunition in a factory dedicated to high temperature processes? Someone is not very careful.
The Mystics, having cleared up the disorientation effects, felt that they should try the history spell again (since that was what we had come to do!). This time they were successful, and they reported the following sequence: Arkwright sneaks in to the factory, uses a key to open a locked door. As the door opens, Schmidt, appears, reaches out and grabs him, knocks him unconscious, and flies away with him. Next they saw the nasty little man Tot, who warned the factory foreman and some of the workers that they should keep their eyes on their work.
By now, we were all quite exhausted (well, with the possible exception of Edward). We loaded back into the carriages. We made a brief stop at hospital so Mrs Cuthbert could look in on the injured glassworks man again. Sir Cosmo sent word about the ammunition storage to Captain Moriarty.
We returned to the villa. I was looking forward to a wash and some kind of supper. Unfortunately, there was a strange woman in the water closet. It turned out that she was one of the people who had made a scene outside the Consulate this morning–I recognised her voice as she began belting out several of the more common hymns. Several of us stopped to talk to her, to try to find out what she could possibly want with us.
She proved to be a sort of Temperance crusader. She was fairly young, American, and obviously wealthy. She had come to find Kid Rocket to recruit him to be a spokesman for her cause. She seemed unable to articulate her actual goals...she spoke in the most general way of "justice" and "humanity" and that sort of nonsense. Mr Deveril and I both talked with her at some length, trying to convince her to go away and send her request to "Kid Rocket's" corresponding Secretary.
At last Sir Cosmo came in with a box of tools and disconnected the pipes that the woman had chained herself to. He asked Emily to remove the lady. Emily obliged by picking the woman up and carrying her out of the house.
The woman was deposited at the road and instructed not to come back on threat of shooting. I don't think I have ever seen Sir Cosmo act with such impatience and discourtesy. The entire household applauded his actions, however, as we were all tired and not amused by this silly woman's antics.
The Mystics decided to wait to look at Mr Arkwright's shoe.. A good choice, I think, since after today's events I fear they might cause it to combust or something.
Supper was somewhat disappointing, as the soup course was a salty oxtail soup with onions, the fowl was smoked chicken, the meat was a ham, the vegetables were chou en casserole...I think the cook was attempting to cater to our British palates. I was able to pick lettuce of the salad to eat. In the end I ate a little of each thing, I was too hungry to subsist on lettuce.
I received some consolation when Mr Frazer agreed to join me in one of the sitting rooms for a German lesson. We were really both too tired to concentrate, though, and after a time we devolved to general conversation. I started asking about Turgenov, and Mr Frazer's remarkable ability to communicate with him.
Some of Mr Frazer's history with Turgenov was already known to me, but this conversation was longer and offered more insight. Turgenov seemed to interrupt Mr Frazer to add his point of view quite often.
I was thinking about the dream I had had the night before, in which Turgenov and Mr Frazer were battling Herr Schmidt in a factory. As Mr Fraser told stories about times that Turgenov had helped him, even saved his life, a recent story began to show astounding parallels to my dream. I felt the blood leave my face as I realised that my dream had been accurate. When I told Mr Frazer what he had done next, the color drained from his face as well.
I told him that I had dreamed of these events the night before, but had not considered it because I never have clairvoyant dreams. He haltingly told me that he had himself dreamed of this last night, reliving a very difficult time.
I had heard from Miss Whitnell that Herr Schmidt has some power to come into people's dreams, to provoke them and to learn their weaknesses. Since Herr Schmidt featured prominently in this dream-memory, I was instantly alarmed.
With Mr Frazer's permission, I sought out Miss Whitnell to ask her help and advice. She told me that she didn't think Herr Schmidt would be able to penetrate the Consulate's wards last night, and that the dream may have simply been Mr Frazer's own. She pointed to the fact that Miss Mitzi had been able to communicate with Miss Chigwidgeon through the wards because of a personal connexion between them, and suggested a similar sense of connexion between Mr Frazer and myself.
I did not find this altogether reassuring. Herr Schmidt has nearly killed Mr Frazer a time or two already...that seems like a personal connexion to me. Vicious, but personal.
Miss Whitnell offered to strengthen the wards around my room, and I accepted.
I wandered around the house a little longer, and am finally settling to sleep. Just a few more notes...
Notes on Agents and Factions encountered or suspected thus far:
French:
Sicilians
Americans:
Possibly this faction also intends to try to recruit Kid Rocket to return to America.
Possibly American allegiance:
Prussians:
Others seen in Mrs Cuthbert's dream:
Also two prisoners.
Proceed to What a tangle
Return to Miss Sinclair's Diary Index
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