When Pascale Auber is forced out of the airship of the evil Dr. Simpelstur, she finds herself rescued by a handsome Ruritanian diplomat, Theo von Hentzau. Pascale soon realizes that Theo is hiding something - something to do with the evil doctor, th...
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There is a news stand just outside Dennishill station, and so I fought my way through the crush of commuters with two newspapers tucked under my arm. The train was hurtling breathlessly through the tunnels like an asthmatic baby dragon by the time I managed to perch on a half-seat left empty on one of the broad benches at the back of the car.
I unfolded The World first,trying not to disturb the sleepy-looking man on my right. The headline above the fold screamed "Daring Rescue from Four-Alarm Fire", and just below it, in smaller type, "Suspected Arson at Baratrarian Embassy. Soprano, Prince, Staff all safe."
It took only a moment to digest the salient points of the article. It seemed that, at the same moment Theo von Hentzau and I had been waltzing to the strains of Delmonte's mechanical orchestra, my brother's favourite songstress, Miss Cartimandua Silverstar, had performed at a charity function at the Baratarian Embassy. The function was attended by no less than three dozen luminaries, among them Prince Carlos, second son of the king and queen of Barataria. This was, of course, the young man who was promised in marriage to our own gracious ruler.
It was the prince who had noticed smoke emanating from the curtains at the back of the concert hall, attempted – and failed – to arrest the progress of the fire, and then physically carried Miss Silverstar, kicking, and, according to the newspaper report, screaming, from the burning room and out into the embassy garden. The fire brigade had managed to save the older wing of the building, but the newer wing, with its gas lights and state-of-the-art kitchens, was utterly destroyed.
The article concluded with a number of vox populi comments, mostly about the distance from which one could see the flames, and the impressive heights which they had reached. The very last comment, however, was surprising.
It is clear to me who is responsible for this event. It is, of course, the Archduke of Ruritania. Archduke Ruprecht claims to love his cousin Queen Alexandrina, but this is a lie. He has somehow started the fire, despite being in Strelsau.
The odd comment was credited to one Roderick R. Simpelstur, M.D.
The train carriage jolted, and I looked around me, taking in the other commuters, cheek to jowl like sausages packed into a tin. Nobody seemed to have noticed the shock on my face. To think that the evil doctor was so brazen as to permit his words to appear in print for anyone to read! Carefully, I folded The World in quarters and tucked it under my arm.
I instead turned my attention to The Aeon. The fire coverage in The Aeon was more extensive than it had been in The World, but the damning quotation was missing. As directed by my boss, I flipped to the society pages. I was was met with a short article about the upcoming royal wedding. It was written in a rather purple, melodramatic style;
This reporter has recently become acquainted with some immensely interesting information regarding Queen Alexandrina's upcoming nuptials. It seems that several of Her Majesty's favourite relations will be able to attend, namely, Archduke Ruprecht of Ruritania, and his brother, Prince Rüdiger. The Archduke's wife and son will also be in attendance. King Rudolf of Ruritania and the beautiful Queen Flavia will, unfortunately, be unable to attend. Besides these, it is expected that a number of famous personages from around the world –
I stopped reading at that point, tucking The Aeon under my arm beside The World. So, the Archduke was to be here in the Metropolis, and for the royal wedding, no less. I had the distinct impression that my boss, concerned as he was with the safety and security of the city, would be furious.
