followed by a man in a top hat, who looked very much like the villain just arrested. An actor called in a strong voice, “Is this seat taken?”
Theater patrons yelled that his hat was too big. Shouting matches ensued—angry words and a general banging came from behind the sailcloth.
Lord Strone laughed, “If my wife could see the thoroughly unpleasant sort who attend the cinema, she’d stop badgering me to take her there.”
The ship’s orchestra took up an aria from La Bohème .
On the theater screen, the director threw auditioning singers out the door.
Behind the sailcloth, the door banged and actors laughed.
In the ten-cent theater, ladies in increasingly large hats took their seats, provoking a riot.
A whistle blew behind the sailcloth. In the ten-cent theater, the clamshell jaws of a steam shovel descended from the ceiling and plucked off a lady’s hat. Ladies removed their hats. The lady in the biggest hat refused. The jaws descended again and lifted her, hat and all, out of the ten-cent theater. The actors behind the sailcloth cheered.
Lord Strone led the laughter. “I say! That’ll teach her. Whisked off like rubbish.”
“Irina!” cried Marion as the lights came back on, “That was splendid. Thank you.”
Irina stood and bowed. “Could we have a hand for the players?”
The Humanova troupe stepped out from behind the sailcloth. The wedding guests clapped.
Isaac Bell shook the actors’ hands, pressing into each a ten-dollar gold piece. “Thank you for a memorable performance.”
“Would that we could have rehearsed longer,” one sighed, “but Mademoiselle Viorets kept changing the dialogue.”
The wedding party trooped down Mauretania ’s grand staircase to the dining saloon. Bell and Marion made the rounds of the tables, thanking guests for coming and fielding questions.
“To the beautiful bride!” shouted a red-faced Chimney Baron, draining his glass and waving for a refill. “ Und to you, Mr. Bell, as ve say in Germany, Da hast du Glück gehabt !”
“Which means,” Herr Wagner translated, “Did you get lucky!”
“Danke schön!” Bell grinned back.
They were making their way back to their own table when Clyde Lynds hurried up, his face pale, his expression grave. “Mr. Bell!”
“Are you all right, Clyde?”
“I can’t find the Professor anywhere. He’s not in his cabin, he’s not on deck, he’s not here, and he’s not in the Second Class dining room.”
“When did he leave the party?”
“Before the ceremony. He said he felt seasick again.” Lynds lowered his voice and whispered, “I had a feeling he was heading down to the baggage rooms. I went down there. I didn’t see him. I checked both of them, back in the stern and up in the bow. He wasn’t in, either.”
“Why would he go there?”
Clyde Lynds shrugged. “To check on our things, I guess.”
“What things?” Bell asked. “Luggage?” The Professor and his protégé had danced repeatedly around the subject of the actual “secret invention.” Was it aboard the ship? Was it in their heads? Was it on another ship? Did it consist only of drawings? Bell had no idea, but now it sounded as if the invention was physically on the Mauretania . It was be ironical if whatever the machine was, it was riding in the same luggage room as a Van Dorn Detective Agency prisoner.
“What’s in his luggage, Clyde?”
Lynds hesitated. Then he ducked his head and said, “The Professor had some crates.”
“Go sit with Mademoiselle Viorets. I’ll have a look.”
“Don’t you want me to come with you?”
“No.”
“M ARION, I’ M AFRAID I’ M GOING TO HAVE TO excuse myself. Beiderbecke has disappeared. Clyde is worried, and so am I.”
“I’ll hold the fort.”
Bell walked Marion to her chair and nodded to Archie. The two men left the party separately and joined up in Bell’s stateroom, where Bell slipped a pocket pistol into his trousers and tossed Archie another. “Beiderbecke’s gone
Theater patrons yelled that his hat was too big. Shouting matches ensued—angry words and a general banging came from behind the sailcloth.
Lord Strone laughed, “If my wife could see the thoroughly unpleasant sort who attend the cinema, she’d stop badgering me to take her there.”
The ship’s orchestra took up an aria from La Bohème .
On the theater screen, the director threw auditioning singers out the door.
Behind the sailcloth, the door banged and actors laughed.
In the ten-cent theater, ladies in increasingly large hats took their seats, provoking a riot.
A whistle blew behind the sailcloth. In the ten-cent theater, the clamshell jaws of a steam shovel descended from the ceiling and plucked off a lady’s hat. Ladies removed their hats. The lady in the biggest hat refused. The jaws descended again and lifted her, hat and all, out of the ten-cent theater. The actors behind the sailcloth cheered.
Lord Strone led the laughter. “I say! That’ll teach her. Whisked off like rubbish.”
“Irina!” cried Marion as the lights came back on, “That was splendid. Thank you.”
Irina stood and bowed. “Could we have a hand for the players?”
The Humanova troupe stepped out from behind the sailcloth. The wedding guests clapped.
Isaac Bell shook the actors’ hands, pressing into each a ten-dollar gold piece. “Thank you for a memorable performance.”
“Would that we could have rehearsed longer,” one sighed, “but Mademoiselle Viorets kept changing the dialogue.”
The wedding party trooped down Mauretania ’s grand staircase to the dining saloon. Bell and Marion made the rounds of the tables, thanking guests for coming and fielding questions.
“To the beautiful bride!” shouted a red-faced Chimney Baron, draining his glass and waving for a refill. “ Und to you, Mr. Bell, as ve say in Germany, Da hast du Glück gehabt !”
“Which means,” Herr Wagner translated, “Did you get lucky!”
“Danke schön!” Bell grinned back.
They were making their way back to their own table when Clyde Lynds hurried up, his face pale, his expression grave. “Mr. Bell!”
“Are you all right, Clyde?”
“I can’t find the Professor anywhere. He’s not in his cabin, he’s not on deck, he’s not here, and he’s not in the Second Class dining room.”
“When did he leave the party?”
“Before the ceremony. He said he felt seasick again.” Lynds lowered his voice and whispered, “I had a feeling he was heading down to the baggage rooms. I went down there. I didn’t see him. I checked both of them, back in the stern and up in the bow. He wasn’t in, either.”
“Why would he go there?”
Clyde Lynds shrugged. “To check on our things, I guess.”
“What things?” Bell asked. “Luggage?” The Professor and his protégé had danced repeatedly around the subject of the actual “secret invention.” Was it aboard the ship? Was it in their heads? Was it on another ship? Did it consist only of drawings? Bell had no idea, but now it sounded as if the invention was physically on the Mauretania . It was be ironical if whatever the machine was, it was riding in the same luggage room as a Van Dorn Detective Agency prisoner.
“What’s in his luggage, Clyde?”
Lynds hesitated. Then he ducked his head and said, “The Professor had some crates.”
“Go sit with Mademoiselle Viorets. I’ll have a look.”
“Don’t you want me to come with you?”
“No.”
“M ARION, I’ M AFRAID I’ M GOING TO HAVE TO excuse myself. Beiderbecke has disappeared. Clyde is worried, and so am I.”
“I’ll hold the fort.”
Bell walked Marion to her chair and nodded to Archie. The two men left the party separately and joined up in Bell’s stateroom, where Bell slipped a pocket pistol into his trousers and tossed Archie another. “Beiderbecke’s gone
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