Secrets of the Dragon Tomb (7 page)

“Oh, but not so famous as the legendary Sir Titus Dane!” Jane blurted, then blushed.

“I've never even heard of Sir Titus Dane,” Putty muttered beside me. I hushed her, although I had never heard of him, either.

Sir Titus's eyes tightened.

“It's been such a long time since we had word of you, Sir Titus,” Mama said. “Ten years, at least, although it feels longer.”

Sir Titus bowed his head slightly. “My business has been most unremarkable, and I have not been on Mars in that time, I fear. I have had tedious matters on Earth to occupy my time. My father's business too often takes me away from where I would most like to be, as you must know, Mrs. Sullivan.”

“Oh, yes,” Mama sighed. She turned to the rest of us. “I knew Sir Titus as a girl in Tharsis City, you see. He once promised to take me to Paris and Vienna. He was a very ardent admirer of mine, were you not, Sir Titus?”

“And still am, madam.”

Mama blushed. “Sadly, Sir Titus was forced to travel away from Tharsis on his father's business, and we did not see each other again after that time. If he had not been so forced, I dare to think … Well.” She let out a breathless laugh, as brittle as crystal. “That was a long time ago.”

“And a source of many regrets, also,” Sir Titus said.

Olivia lifted her handkerchief and gave a little cough. Olivia was the most proper person I'd ever met, and this was her equivalent of laughing out loud and pointing a finger at him. I agreed with her. Sir Titus was one of
those
admirers, the ones who'd fled the moment they found out Mama's father had gambled away his fortune and her dowry with it. Sir Titus's father's business sounded like a convenient excuse.

“Well.” Mama cleared her throat. “You are returned to us now. I trust you will stay for our garden party this afternoon? It wouldn't be the same without you. The famous Sir Titus Dane. What an honor that would be. We would be the envy of the neighborhood.”

“Oh, do stay,” Jane cooed, and turned her wide falling-in-love eyes upon him, even though Sir Titus must have been as old as Papa. “I would adore hearing of your adventures, sir.”

“I fear not,” Sir Titus said, “although it is with many regrets. I have already intruded enough, arriving like this without word. But my business carries me to Mars so infrequently that, when I found myself in the area, I could not resist the temptation of taking a slight diversion to pay my respects to one of my dearest friends—”

“Sir Titus!” Mama giggled, sounding like Jane at her most infatuated.

“However, I have appointments to keep tomorrow, to the north of here, that may detain me for several weeks, and I cannot honorably postpone them. It is enough that I have been able to … satisfy my curiosity, renew a dear acquaintance, and”—here he looked directly at Jane—“make new, equally delightful, acquaintances.” He paused and raised a finger to his lips, his brow furrowing. “Although.” He smiled. “It does now occur to me. It may be that I can charter a private airship to carry me north. If so, I may be able to attend at least part of your party.”

“Oh, yes!” Mama and Jane fluttered together.

“Sir Titus, you do us a great honor,” Mama added. “A great, great honor.”

“Then I shall see what I can do.” He stood, and the rest of us stood with him. “I have trespassed upon your time long enough. If I am able, I shall return at noon. If not, I can but hope that my business in the north will soon be completed and that I may impose upon your hospitality again before I return to Earth.”

*   *   *

As soon as Sir Titus had taken his leave, Mama said, “Mrs. Adolpho and Mrs. Cartwright must be told that Sir Titus Dane called upon us. As must Lady Ashville. If he is not able to return this afternoon, it will be of the greatest importance. But how to let them know without seeming boastful?”

A frown creased her forehead. Then she noticed the rest of us standing there. “What on Mars are you all standing about for? We have a garden party to prepare, and we have lost too much time. Olivia! See to the automatic servants, then check the tables. They must be suitably positioned in the shade, but not so far that they cannot observe the goings-on and be observed in turn. Oh dear, one just cannot expect the laborers to get it right. And tell the automatic servants to take away breakfast. We have no time for it this morning.”

I stared at her as my stomach growled angrily. Mama ignored me.

“Jane,” she said. “You must get dressed. Together, we shall shine over this party like twin stars in the heavens.”

“Papa has canceled the garden party,” I said.

“Edward! Please do not talk such nonsense. We are too busy.”

I shrugged. Papa couldn't say I hadn't tried. If he wanted to attempt to persuade Mama himself, he was more than welcome. If he succeeded, it would be a first.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

Mama looked at me like I was covered in bugs. “
Do?
You are a young gentleman, Edward! You are not supposed to
do
anything. Just … try to stay out of everyone's way.”

Olivia reached out a hand as I pushed my way out of the room. “Edward…”

“I'll find Freddie,” I said, not meeting her eyes. “We'll help you with the tables.” I headed for the stairs.

Freddie was in his room, standing at the window, looking onto the front lawn and the drive with his back to the room. I rapped on the door and entered.

“Cousin Freddie,” I said. “There you are. You've missed the famous Sir Titus Dane.”

Freddie turned. “So it would appear. What a shame.”

“You saw him leave?” I said.

“What did you think of him?”

It was a peculiar question. “Why?”

“I'm just interested, having missed the great man myself.” He flashed a grin.

I frowned. This didn't sound like the idiot Freddie I was used to.

“I didn't like him,” I said. “I didn't trust him.” I met Freddie's eyes with a challenge.

He gave a half smile of acknowledgment. “Not many would share your opinion.”

“Mama and Jane certainly didn't,” I muttered, then wondered if I'd said too much. Cousin Freddie wasn't actually family. Some things weren't meant to be shared.

“The question,” Freddie said, “is what did he want?”

“To renew his acquaintance with Mama,” I said. I wasn't going to pass on any more gossip. “That's all. It's not unusual, you know.”

Freddie laughed. “No one has seen nor heard of the great Sir Titus Dane for ten years. This is the man who discovered three dragon tombs in the sands of Lunae Planum. The man who then disappeared in a cloud of rumors that said he had stolen the maps showing the locations of the tombs from other Martian archaeologists. Now, after all this time, he turns up here to visit someone he hasn't seen for twenty years or more. I don't think so.”

“Yet you don't sound surprised to see him,” I said. “In fact, you seem to know rather a lot about him, bearing in mind that you can't have been more than, what?—ten?—when he disappeared. And why did you work so hard to avoid meeting him?”

Freddie gave a tight smile. “You don't miss much, do you, Edward? Let's just say that the great Sir Titus Dane may not have been seen in ten years, but I have seen that man who has just left very recently indeed. He was not calling himself Sir Titus Dane. He was calling himself Professor Westfield.” He leaned back against the window. “He is my tutor at Oxford.”

 

6

The Worst Party Ever

Half an hour later, I stood watching Freddie from the far side of the lawn as he checked the tables. People had suddenly become very interested in Papa's water abacus. I didn't know what, if anything, Freddie had to do with last night's intruders, nor how Sir Titus Dane fitted in. Maybe they all had algebra homework they were trying to avoid. But if I'd been Freddie, the garden party would have been the perfect chance for me to get to the abacus again. The house would be empty, and Papa would have to be at the party. For now, though, Freddie seemed content to dawdle his way around the tables, twirling his walking stick and humming away to himself.

This was my chance to find out exactly what he was up to.

Putty, of course, wanted to come with me.

“Then who's going to keep an eye on Freddie while I'm searching his bedroom?” I said. “And who's going to warn me if he comes back?”

Putty pouted. “I'd be much better at searching his bedroom. I always manage to find Jane's secret diary, no matter where she hides it.”

I closed my eyes for a second. “You can't read Jane's secret diary.”

“Yes, I can. Although it's full of horrible love poetry and soppiness. Did you know that she thinks Cousin Freddie is ‘ever so handsome, witty, and exceedingly charming, and all other gentlemen are quite inconsequential when compared'? Which is exactly what she wrote about Nicholas Wetherby last month.”

“If Jane knew you were reading her diary…” I started. Then I stopped and took a deep breath. “Putty,” I said. “If you don't keep an eye on Freddie for me, I'll tell Jane you've been reading her diary. Now go bother Freddie, and if he comes back to the house, whistle. Loudly.”

Putty fixed me with a narrow-eyed stare. I didn't waver. She sighed and, with a last, loud huff, flounced off across the lawn.

I waited until she reached Freddie and started pestering him. Then I strolled casually to the house. Mama was engaged in a debate with Jane about the vast, looming wood-and-canvas dragon tomb that had been constructed at the end of the lawn. From the snatches of conversation that I heard, Mama was worrying that there wasn't enough gold on the tomb. The Ancient Martian tyrants from
Thrilling Martian Tales
would have been proud of her. When she and Jane were looking the other way, I slipped through the front door.

Our ro-butler was standing in the entrance foyer, as still as a piece of furniture. For a moment, I worried his springs had run down, but he bowed his head jerkily as I hurried past. I patted him on his metal shoulder. He might have been old and out of date, but after so many years, he was almost part of the family.

Freddie's bedroom was on the second floor, next door to Putty's. The automatic maids had finished turning the sheets and laying the fires, and were now out on the lawn, assisting with the preparations. I paused outside Putty's room, wondering if I should dart inside and reclaim my magazine. But Putty's room was always a mess, and I didn't know how much time I had.

Freddie's door was unlocked. I slipped inside.

The bed curtains had been tied back and the bed made. There was a washstand; a small, empty bedside table; a narrow wardrobe; and a secretaire to one side of the window. Writing paper and a quill pen had been laid out on the secretaire next to the auto-scribe, as though Freddie had meant to start a letter by hand. But he'd just scribbled a collection of letters and symbols, then scratched them out, as though he had been absentmindedly doodling as he thought of something else. They didn't mean a thing to me.

The secretaire's drawers were empty, other than a supply of writing paper and a spare quill. Nothing hidden there. The problem was, I didn't even know what I was looking for.

I dropped to my knees, peered under the bed, and saw a dark shape shadowing the light from the far side. I lay flat and reached under, my fingers stretching toward it, my shoulder pressed up hard against the edge of the bed.

My fingers closed on a hard china bowl. I let go quickly.
The automatic chamber pot.
Yuck. I screwed up my face. Thank heavens it had already emptied and cleaned itself. I pushed myself back up again, resisting the urge to wipe my fingers somewhere.

Freddie had arrived with little more than a change of clothes. The ones he'd been wearing when he crashed his cycle-copter had been cleaned, patched, and hung up in the wardrobe. I ran my hands over the jacket. There was a stiff piece of paper in one of the pockets. I slipped my hand inside.

It was the stub of a Mars-ship ticket. Departure was stamped a month previously, from the dragon path terminus outside Oxford, on Earth, and the arrival time was just four days ago, in Tharsis City. So he'd been telling the truth about that at least. He could easily have caught a Clockwork Express from Tharsis City to the Chinese Martian territories on the far side of the Valles Marineris. What it didn't tell me was
why
he'd come. I put the ticket stub back in his pocket and continued searching through his clothes.

A floorboard creaked just beyond the door. I froze for a fraction of a second. Then I did the only thing I could. I jumped into the wardrobe and pulled the door shut behind me.

I heard the handle turn and the bedroom door open. Light footsteps padded in. I crouched down to the keyhole and peered through.

A shape swished past the wardrobe. I caught a glimpse of a woman's dress.

It couldn't be Mama. Mama never went anywhere quietly. Jane, then? Had she snuck in to moon over Freddie's bedroom and fall in love with his spare cravats? Except that Jane had been wearing an elegant green affair this morning, to set off the jewels in her hair.

I pushed open the wardrobe door.

“Olivia?” I demanded. “What are you doing here?”

She jumped as though I'd pricked her with a needle. Freddie's papers fell from her fingers.

“Um … I … thought I should check to see if the automatic maid had tidied Cousin Frederick's room properly,” she said, blushing. “You know how poorly they're working these days. It wouldn't do to let a guest's room go unserviced.”

It was the most pathetic excuse I'd ever heard.

“And you were worried they hadn't cleaned his secretaire?” I asked.

“Well…” She blinked. Irritatingly, Olivia was quite a bit taller than me. She peered down at me. “What were
you
doing in Frederick's
wardrobe
?”