The Derring-Do Club and the Empire of the Dead

by David Wake

  “I will not,” said Charlotte. “I’m not going to miss two men fighting over me for anything.”

  “Your Royal Highness, with all due respect, I am not betrothed to you,” said Pieter.

  “But you sent Ness to talk to me.”

  “Yes, but then you married my father.”

  “Look,” said Merryweather, “let’s just get on with it, shall we? We are pushed for time as it is.”

  “Very well,” said Pieter, swishing his blade again. “To the first blood.”

  Merryweather was having none of it: “To the death.”

  Chapter XXIII

  Miss Deering-Dolittle

  When Theseus navigated the labyrinth to face the Minotaur, Ariadne had given him a ball of thread to find his way out. Why couldn’t they, Earnestine thought, have simply made a map? She made a pencil mark in her notebook: 75 paces further in to this turning. Not that she’d needed to keep such a careful record, because the Austro-Hungarians with their typical efficiency had placed duckboards over some of the channels making the trail particularly easy to follow.

  Deeper in, she had heard a roaring, not unlike some mythical monster, and the clatter of machinery, joined as she crept closer by deep guttural voices.

  She hid in an alcove between two study brick columns, shutting her dark lantern.

  Guards came and went, like a line of ants in activity and in appearance: they were black Macintoshed and complete with their fearful looking breathing apparatus.

  They’d created a new tunnel connecting the sewers to another set of tunnels beyond. As Earnestine worked her way around, she realised that this was the main route linking the Austro–Hungarian’s underground base to the rest of the system.

  Above was a sign: a flick of flashlight and she noted down its legend: ‘Junction XXIV’.

  A group of soldiers passed by and Earnestine hung back in the shadows again. Once they had gone, Earnestine wondered if she should find their source or their destination, but no–one won prizes at the Geographical Society for finding the delta of the Nile.

  She nearly tripped over some rubber–coated cables that trailed down the passageway. These were clearly some sort of flexible pipes for the galvanic energies.

  At the end of a tunnel, she found a set of clothing.

  She put a coat on, buttoned it and then selected a bug–eye, repelled as she pulled the pliant seal over her face.

  She climbed a ladder and came out in a brightly lit chamber with fine wooden doors.

  She picked one.

  This was a changing room similar to the underground one and Earnestine went on into a carpeted corridor. The sudden change was disorientating as she moved from the underworld of dank brickwork and into another world of plush, wallpapered decadence.

  “Achtung!” It was the Vögte, the Graf’s underling: she was caught. He shouted: “Achten Sie auf den Teppich!”

  Why didn’t they speak English?

  If the Vögte was here, then perhaps Pieter… but he was in Austro–Hungary and she didn’t care either.

  The Vögte was rudely pointing his finger at her, stabbing downwards at her feet. Earnestine frowned inside her mask and looked down. Framed in the round distorting lenses, she saw her stolen boots and where they had tracked mud across the deep pile carpet. That was muck from the sewers and it would be near impossible for the maid to scrub it out.

  The Vögte was regarding her, a gaze trying to penetrate her disguise.

  She should run. She knew the way back through the sewers and it would take time for him to summon help.

  An officer ran up breathlessly.

  The man thrust a revolver into her hand and called her to follow.

  She did so, stomping down the corridor.

  Behind her, the Vögte let out a cry of exasperated despair.

  Mrs Arthur Merryweather

  Georgina sat primly, feeling forgotten.

  An officer and a soldier dressed in that appallingly frightening mask burst into the room and rushed across. The Bug Eye one stopped to stare at her for a moment before moving on.

  The other officers moved over to the door to see what was happening.

  No–one was looking at her.

  There were swords and spikes and other sharp implements attached to the wall. The chair Charlotte had put under them was still there, but it really wasn’t Georgina’s style at all.

  She stood, brushed her dress down and calmly walked to the other exit.

  In the corridor beyond there was a contingent of military men.

  “Afternoon, Graf,” said Georgina. She kept her head down and maintained her pace. The top of the main stairs leading down to the exit was only ten yards away: nine, eight… there was a lot of mud tramped into the carpet.

  “Miss Deering–Dolittle.”

  Georgina partly turned: “Mrs Merryweather,” she corrected, and she kept going.

  Seven.

  “Stay!”

  Six.

  A gun was cocked with a loud click.

  Georgina could see down the stairs, across the entrance hall lit by the light of the street. There was a flash of lightning as if someone had taken a daguerreotype using flash powder.

  She turned and faced them.

  “You only had to ask,” she said. “Please.”

  The Graf’s face tightened: “Please.”

  “That’s better. Manners maketh–”

  The Graf turned to one of his men: “Where’s the other one!”

  The officer looked nonplussed.

  “Don’t you understand English?” the Graf yelled.

  “Nein, mein Graf.”

  “Wo ist der andere?” The Graf barged past and strode down the corridor. “Bringen Sie sie hier.”

  The officer came up to Georgina. “Kommen Sie mit mir,” he said.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I don’t understand German.”

  “Kommen! Sie! Mit! Mir!”

  “Shouting isn’t going to make it any clearer. Good day.”

  She had her foot on the top step before he grabbed her by her collar and manhandled her down the corridor.

  “I can see you’ve not been properly – ouch – educated.”

  She was soon back in the Grand Room.

  The Graf was staring at the chair under the swords as if he was counting the family silverware to make sure nothing had been stolen.

  “Kommen Sie!”

  Miss Charlotte

  Charlotte was entranced. The two men circled each other, their eyes focused on their opponent and their determination-

  “Can we move the billiard table?”

  “Ja, it is in the way.”

  They put their sabres down on the massive table and each took one end to heave.

  “This is heavy.”

  “Ja!”

  Caruthers waved his gun impatiently: “Merry, for goodne–”

  The door burst open.

  They grabbed their guns and sabres, but the two soldiers who broke in had the jump on Caruthers and McKendry. Just as the two Gentlemen Adventurers had their weapons trained on the Austro–Hungarians, so the newcomers had their weapons pointed at the two British.

  “This changes nothing,” said Pieter. “The English were willing to act as… referees so we could fight for Miss Deering–Dolittle. I’m sure we will show the same sportsmanship and fair play.”

  Captain Merryweather assumed a fighting posture: “Right!”

  Prince Pieter followed suit: “En garde!”

  They circled, wider now that the billiard table was no longer central in the room, and then slashed at each other, their blades clashing. Merryweather was a wild flash of scarlet to the Prince’s more measured dark movements.

  There was another raucous interruption at the doorway.

  One of the Austro–Hungarian soldiers, the one in the strange mask, pushed another forward. Caruthers and McKendry seized their chance and regained their weapons.

  “We’re the referees now,” said Caruthers.


  “You fight for Miss Deering–Dolittle?!” the masked soldier demanded in a voice muffled by the bug–eye mask.

  “Ja,” said Prince Pieter. “We have an understanding.”

  “Well, she must have meant to break it off, because Miss Deering–Dolittle and I are married,” said Merryweather.

  “Is this true?” Prince Pieter demanded.

  “I was his best man, old boy,” said Caruthers.

  “And I was Georgina’s Maid of Honour and I gave her away,” Charlotte piped in.

  Prince Pieter looked confused: “You’re married to Miss Deering–Dolittle?”

  “I’m married to Mrs Arthur Merryweather,” Merryweather insisted.

  “Let’s not confuse things,” said Caruthers. “She was Miss Deering–Dolittle.”

  “Earnestine?” Prince Pieter asked.

  “No,” said Charlotte, “Earnestine’s the eldest, I’m the youngest and Georgina, Mrs Merryweather, is the middle sister.”

  Pieter look to Merryweather.

  “I married Georgina,” said Merryweather.

  “For me, it is Earnestine,” Pieter replied. He lowered his sword: “It appears we’ve been duelling under a misconception, please accept my apologies and my congratulations.”

  “Yes,” said Merryweather. “All rather embarrassing.”

  Caruthers began to laugh and McKendry joined in, which made the two combatants look all the more foolish. Soon the mirth was added to by the Austro–Hungarian guards until everyone, except the bug–eyed one, was laughing.

  “I don’t think you need to fight a duel,” McKendry concluded.

  “Let’s have a drink,” said Caruthers, taking the cutlass off Merryweather. “You two might even end up as sort of brothers–in–law.”

  “This is so disappointing,” said Charlotte.

  Merryweather put out his hand and Prince Pieter shook it.

  The masked soldier stepped forward levelling a revolver at the Prince: “That is not true.”

  “I assure you it is true,” said Pieter.

  The door burst open again and into the room came the Graf flanked by some soldiers. The situation was reversed yet again.

  “So, brother, consorting with the enemy,” said the Graf.

  Oblivious to everything, the Bug Eye soldier stepped right up to the Prince.

  “We do not…” Earnestine ripped the mask off, “…have an understanding.”

  Chapter XXIV

  Miss Deering-Dolittle

  Pieter was surprised to see her. Earnestine could see it in the way his blue eyes seemed to widen. She was pleased to see him and so angry.

  “Gentlemen,” the Graf said, “I think I have the upper hand now.”

  Caruthers, McKendry and Charlotte passed their revolvers over to the Austro–Hungarians and then went over to join Merryweather by the Billiard table. Caruthers surreptitiously picked up a red ball. The Graf himself took the revolver from Earnestine’s unresisting hand.

  Merryweather leapt forward: “Georgina!”

  His colleagues held him back.

  Earnestine turned to the door to see Georgina escorted in by yet another soldier. He pushed his captive over to Charlotte.

  “I tried,” Charlotte said.

  “Me too,” said Georgina.

  The Graf turned his attention to the three British men: “If I am not mistaken you are three of Major Dan’s finest.”

  Caruthers opened his mouth to quip, but the Graf turned to the young ladies.

  “And all three sisters together, a full set,” he said. “Even we in Austro–Hungary have heard of the infamous Deering–Dolittles from Kent. You are all mad.”

  “We’re not mad,” Earnestine retorted, “we’re explorers.”

  “You’re troublemakers,” he replied.

  She pulled off the black mackintosh to show her sensible tweed dress beneath and her medium kit bag. The Graf snatched it off her.

  “Fräulein,” the Graf said, “this is no adventure.”

  “I know.”

  “Brother,” said Prince Pieter, his place in the room betraying that he was neither with the Austro–Hungarians or the prisoners. Or by her side, Earnestine noted.

  “Pieter?”

  “Release the young ladies. They have nothing to do with this.”

  “Nothing to do with this!” the Graf said. “I chased this one half way across Europe and together they destroyed one of my Zeppelins, seriously damaging another. What are they doing here on Austro–Hungarian soil? Practising the pianoforte? Embroidery? Bearing sons?”

  “Gustav!”

  “Pieter, be careful, the Gräfin’s Great Plan needs you, but my Great War does not.”

  “You mean to go through with this.”

  “Hear the thunder.”

  They listened. There was only the rain, but then there was a flash.

  “Nichts kann mich jetzt aufhalten!”

  Thunder rumbled under the Graf’s laughter.

  “This is madness,” said Pieter.

  “Nein, but to keep you on your best behaviour, I will take the women as hostages.” The Graf gestured to his soldiers. “Bewachen Sie sie, bringen sie die Frauen. Kommen Sie!”

  Three soldiers selected a Deering–Dolittle each to escort.

  “I need one of the men, a volunteer.”

  “No!” Pieter leapt across the room and the Graf struck him across the face so hard that he lifted the Prince off the floor. The younger man fell awkwardly and McKendry went to him.

  “A volunteer!” the Graf insisted.

  Merryweather stepped forward.

  “Good! Kommen Sie!”

  The Graf, prisoners and escort marched out leaving a few of the guards with their guns levelled at Caruthers, McKendry and Pieter. At the last moment Earnestine caught Caruthers’s eye.

  She nodded, he nodded back.

  Mrs Arthur Merryweather

  The last thing Georgina saw as she was dragged out was Caruthers rubbing the red billiard ball on his trousers as if he was playing cricket and was about to run up to bowl.

  They were dragged along corridors. Along the way, she reached for Arthur and occasionally their hands touched.

  Finally, they arrived at what looked like a changing room and from there they went down an awkward ladder into the bowels of the Earth.

  Miss Charlotte

  “So what’s this understanding?”? Charlotte asked Earnestine.

  “It’s just some nonsense that the Prince developed when we were talking in his bedroom.”

  “Bedroom?” Charlotte repeated. “You were alone in his bedroom.”

  “I was not alone, he was there too.”

  Charlotte opened her mouth wide: “Earnestine Deering–Dolittle!”

  “It wasn’t like that! I was his secretary.”

  “Is that what it’s called?”

  “You are not too old to have a good spanking.”

  “Are you challenging me? Do you want to borrow my other glove?”

  “What!?”

  “So you were flirting with the Prince when he was engaged to me?”

  “I was not flirting, he was courting.”

  “Same thing.”

  “It most certainly is not.”

  “But–”

  “Charlotte, this is not a subject we will discuss – ever!”

  “Is that because they’re going to kill us?”

  “Not just that, there are other reasons too.”

  Chapter XXV

  Miss Deering-Dolittle

  Earnestine found it difficult to think with Charlotte’s incessant prattle. Back wherever he was, Caruthers was going to try something and she had to be ready to do her bit.

  They reached a small room that had been tiled. It was a laboratory or an operating theatre, full of strange galvanic equipment and flickering lighting. The Graf went to talk to a man in a white coat, dumping her medium kit bag on a side table. They were pushed to one side and then an orderly expertly attached a thick shackle to one
of their wrists and a heavy chain was threaded through the loop and connected to solid metal hoops set in the wall. Finally, the end was fixed with a large padlock.

  Charlotte sat down and in doing so she tugged at the chain forcing Georgina to sit and then Earnestine had no choice either.

  As he was the man, they’d taken no chances with Merryweather: he was secured with two shackles and chained to a loop of his own.

  “They’re going to kill us, aren’t they?” Charlotte said.

  “Of course not,” Merryweather said.

  “Arthur, dearest, please don’t patronise Charlotte,” Georgina said. “She’ll never learn if we don’t explain things truthfully. Yes, Lottie, they’re going to kill us.”

  “And then bring us back to that horrible undead state?” Charlotte had gone pale. All her blithering had been a way to avoid thinking about what might happen in this dungeon. She had seen this before, Earnestine realised, and she was rightly terrified of the ungodly process.

  Chains, tiles, apparatus, the Graf, the orderly, a Doctor, soldiers, chains… it was hopeless.

  Mrs Arthur Merryweather

  Merryweather coughed: “Only the men.”?

  “Oh! Dearest.”

  “Darling, I’d rather not be… you know.”

  “Untotened?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dearest, once you escape and get a gun, please save two bullets.”

  “Three!” Charlotte asked.

  “Four,” said Earnestine.

  The Graf had finished talking to the white coated orderlies and turned to them.

  “To calibrate the process fully, I will need a corpse,” he said, “ah, but which?”

  His revolver tracked back and forth, hesitating first on Earnestine, then Georgina, Arthur and finally Charlotte.

  “Which one is the pluckiest?” he asked.

  “They’re all plucky,” said Captain Merryweather.

  They were in trouble, Georgina knew that from the way that Earnestine had narrowed her lips and from Arthur’s kind look in her direction. She knew that he would save her. He had a gun strapped to his ankle. He was just waiting for the right moment: any second now.