Ultimate Nyssa Glass, H. Burke [cat reading book .TXT] 📗

marble walkways rolled like a carpet up to the steps of a giant mansion. A clockwork statue of a horse and rider stood on a pedestal. As Nyssa passed, the clock tower struck the hour and the horse reared on its hind legs, its metal workings whirring and buzzing.

“Sparks and shocks, I’m late.” Nyssa jogged up the steps to the large doors, her boot heels clicking on the polished stone.

A footman in a red uniform looked down his nose at her.

She cleared her throat. “I have an appointment with Amara Azores.”

“Miss Glass? Yes, you are expected. Come inside.”

The footman led her through a broad, open foyer, spangled with crystal chandeliers and vases of pink, tropical flowers. He opened a side door to a small parlor with a velvet settee, a tea table with a lace doily, and a piano.

“The lady will be with you in a moment.” He bowed and left.

Nyssa settled on the settee. She’d worn her ruffled skirt and best peacoat, but still felt like a screwdriver in the silverware drawer. If she knew anything about Amara, the girl would be dolled up in silks and makeup. Well, Nyssa wasn’t here to impress her.

Theo’s watch weighed heavily in her breast pocket.

Why do I still have that thing? It’s not like the boy wanted to be with us … it was a stupid plan, though. How could he count on Ellis bringing him home? He couldn’t. It was a leap of faith, and Uncle Al’s plans never depended on faith.

She stood and ran her fingers across the ivory piano keys. It clinked pleasantly. Without Ellis to talk it over with, she resorted to discussing the mystery with herself.

“No, Theo being caught couldn’t be part of Uncle’s plan. What was it then? An accident. No, not assuming Theo was ever under Uncle Al’s training. Being caught was the only crime in his book. Shock me, the only time I ever got caught was when I wanted … to be.” Nyssa froze. When her uncle had gone to jail but his coworkers had insisted she work off his debts, she’d gotten so desperate she’d triggered an alarm in the next shop they’d had her rob. Mr. Calloway’s shop. The man who gave her a second chance. Could Theo have been trying to do the same thing? But if so, why had he gone back to Al?

“Oh Nyssa! It’s good to see you again!”

Nyssa leapt like a startled cat. She whirled around, gasping for air.

Amara arched a perfect eyebrow. “Goodness. You look wretched. Ellis’s telegram was so very vague … is something wrong?”

“A lot of things.” Nyssa settled back on the settee.

Amara wasn’t much older than her, with luscious dark curls and ruby red lips. As expected she wore a red silk dress and rose scented perfume, like she was on her way to the opera rather than meeting a casual acquaintance for lunch.

Nyssa launched into the tale, but even as she told the story, so many parts just didn’t fit together.

“So sad about the poor boy,” Amara said when Nyssa had finished. “I wonder what he was doing in league with your uncle, anyway. The man doesn’t strike me as the type to take in homeless children out of the goodness of his heart.”

“Well, he did sort of do the same with me, after my parents died.”

“True. I can call down to the harbormaster and have them look out for your uncle. If he entered the country legally, there might be some records of him at customs.”

“That would be helpful, but it will probably be too late. I’m sure by the time they send over the records, Al will be long gone.” Nyssa sighed.

Amara brightened. “Oh, there’s something I need to show you in Renard’s office. You’ll love this!”

She led Nyssa down a hall and up a stair into an office with a massive cherry wood desk, two videophones, and a typewriter on a small table, probably for a secretary to take dictation with.

Amara opened a cabinet. “I know you and Ellis are all about inventions and technology. This is the latest in instantaneous communication.” She pulled out a device that looked a bit like a videophone but with a tray beneath with a row of pointed nibs, like the tips of fountain pens. Beneath this lay a roll of crisp, white paper.

Amara looked up something in a small leather book on the desk then keyed in a frequency with the knobs under the videophone screen. A middle aged man with small glasses perched high on his nose wavered into view.

His eyes widened. “Lady Amara? I was not expecting a call from you today. Is there something you need?”

“Nyssa, this is Alphonse. He’s the harbor master’s secretary. Alphonse, I need a teensy favor.” Amara flashed him a beaming smile. “We need to find the custom records for someone who recently entered the country.”

“Do you know their name? The dates they entered? Their method of transport?”

“Albert Glass, sometime last week … and I think he said on a steamer, but I don’t know if that will be helpful.”

“Well, it is off season, so we don’t see as many passenger ships. Give me a moment.” The man left the screen. Papers rustled.

Nyssa chewed on her bottom lip. What do I really hope to gain from this? Still, Amara seems eager to help. I don’t want to discourage her.

“Here it is.” Alphonse returned holding a paper. “We do have record of him entering … It doesn’t look as if a departure has been filed. He may still be on the island … though sometimes it takes a while for the various clerks to update such things.”

“Be a dear and send us the document through the pantelegraph. I want to look it over.”

“Of course, my lady.” Alphonse nodded. The image blinked out.

“Pantelegraph?” Nyssa frowned.

“It’s the newest thing. Renard and I have been playing with it all week, sending photographs and poems. It’s so exciting. I’m not exactly sure how it works, but rather