Escape to the World's Fair by Wendy McClure

voice down to a near whisper. “For packing things in tin cans. Sardines, tomatoes. My cousin was there. Says everything is scalding hot and it stinks of fish. You cut fish up all day and brine it, and your hands get all cut and sore from the salt.” He looked down at his hands, then rolled his sleeve back down over the scar on his arm.
    â€œAdolphius Canning, the place is called,” Dutch continued. “And the fellow who owns it is on board! He’s the boss of everyone!”
    Frances nearly stopped breathing. She looked over at Jack. He had been standing on one of the benches tying down one of the taller stacks. But he had frozen the sound of the name.
    It was Alexander who finally spoke.
“Edwin Adolphius?”
    Eli’s eyes had gone wide with recognition. “Isn’t that the man you were talking about, Frances? The one Miss DeHaven was going to send you to?”
    â€œYes,” she whispered.
    Jack still hadn’t moved. “He’s
here,
on this boat?”
    â€œYou didn’t know?” Chicks asked. “But you saw him on the docks, same as we did. He walked right by us.”
    It was the man with the black and silver beard, Frances realized. The one with the fine suit and the smug smile who’d strolled past just before they’d boarded. “But I don’t understand,” she said. “What’s he doing here?”
    â€œThat’s the worst part,” Finn said. “This whole place belongs to Edwin Adolphius! This is
his
steamboat.”
    One of the trunks that Jack had been trying to tie down slipped off the stack just then and hit the deck. To Frances it sounded like a clap of thunder—
bam!—
from a storm that was suddenly much too close.

9
    A CERTAIN FIRST-CLASS PASSENGER
    T he steamer trunk lay on its side where it had fallen. The brass lock swung loose and the lid had pulled open.
    â€œIf that thing’s broken we’ll get a thrashing for sure,” Dutch said, a nervous edge in his voice.
    â€œIt’s my fault,” Jack said as he stepped down from the bench and set the trunk proper. “So I’m the only one who ought to be thrashed.”
    Owney had come over to help. “Well, today’s your lucky day,” he said, nudging the trunk with his bare foot and looking under the lid. “It ain’t broken. What’s more, it ain’t even got nothing in it.”
    Jack blinked in surprise. “Really?” But sure enough, he peered inside and the trunk was indeed completely empty.
    â€œI thought some of those trunks felt awfully light,” Eli said.
    Finn nodded and picked up one of the other trunks nearby. “A whole lot of them over here in this corner feel like they’re empty, too. Like this one.” He slammed it down on the ground and it made a loud but hollow noise.
    â€œQuit throwing those things!” Dutch snapped. “Do you want to get in trouble?”
    Suddenly Chicks leapt down from the bench he’d been standing on. “Someone’s coming!” he hissed.
    Jack heard footsteps along the deck, coming closer. But they weren’t the sort of heavy noise made by boots. They were hard little taps instead.
    Owney and Frances stood on their toes to peek over one of the stacks of trunks at the person who was approaching.
    â€œUgh,” Owney said, rolling his eyes. “It’s her.”
    â€œ
It’s her,
” Frances repeated, stunned. Then she turned and her eyes met Jack’s. “Quick, hide!”
    Dutch and the other boys looked confused. “Huh?” Dutch muttered.
    â€œ
We
have to hide!” she gasped. “Now!” She reached for Harold and grabbed his wrist, and they scurried between two stacks of trunks until they were out of sight. Alexander seemed to understand, too, and he went in after them. Jack wasn’t sure
he
understood, but he motioned for Eli to follow him and Alexander.
    â€œWhat’s going on?”