Maddie Hatter and the Gilded Guage

by Jayne Barnard

  Mrs. G-G looked up. “Why, gone to the factory to fetch my husband. Someone has thrown rocks through our windows.” She turned back to the guests. “Such a thing has never happened here before. I’m sure it will all be repaired before the benefit.”

  Maddie made for the front door. Emmeline was there already, pulling on her jacket. She threw Maddie’s at her and started yanking the door bolts.

  “Gnave threw the gauge out the library window.” Maddie shoved one arm through a sleeve. “He’ll have left by the back door, down the alley.”

  “But which way is he going?” Emmeline pulled their sturdiest parasols from the stand in the hall.

  “Hare says the man who caught the gauge went south. Cat’s following him.” Maddie grabbed her hat. “I’ll bet Gnave will meet up with him as soon as he can. We catch up to one or the other. Have you money for a taxicab?”

  Emmeline snatched her handbag from the glove table. “I have now.”

  Leaving the door for Woodrow to close, they scurried down the steps as fast as their narrow skirts would allow. Hare leapt up to swing on the open library window before dashing on ahead. Scuttling hard, Maddie fumed at Mr. Gnaves’ knavery. He had the gauge wrapped and ready, and a confederate primed to break the study windows to set the alarm off. The library window could then be opened without setting off a second alarm. He had thrown out the gauge before running to the study. Appearing as innocently horrified as the rest, he’d been trusted just long enough to make his escape.

  A gleaming steam-mobile rolled alongside, its top folded back. Ulysses Cray Coggington was already half out of his vehicle. “Miss Gatsby-Gauge, has that urchin stolen something? I’ll get him for you!”

  “Keep driving,” Emmeline yelled. She dragged Maddie into the car. “South. Hurry.” He stared, but set the steamer into motion with a swift swing of the steering wheel. “Turn right at the corner. Maddie, grab Hare.” When the vehicle slowed to turn, Maddie opened the rear door. Hare dived in. The car lurched forward. At the next corner, beside the new mansion, was Drink-me, waving and pointing. Emmeline yelled and Coggington, with a sidelong frown, slowed the car a second time.

  “Did you see the secretary?” Maddie demanded as the boy landed beside Hare. “The man in the black coat?”

  “Gone in the dungeon ’ouse,” said Drink-me. “Straight out the front.”

  “Through the new mansion.” Emmeline translated, ignoring Coggington’s polite questions. “Where can he be heading?” Before they reached Central Park they saw Hiram, loping south. Maddie stood up, hanging onto the windshield and waving her parasol.

  Hiram leapt onto the running board. “The secretary just headed south by taxi. In a great hurry he was, with another fellow who ran up to him outside. They may be making for the Statue of Liberty, where we saw him before.” His long leg swung over the car door and the rest of him followed.

  “Of course,” said Emmeline. “Liberty Island’s far enough out that a small boat could take him over to New Jersey, or onto a ship bound for Europe.”

  Maddie turned to Hiram. “Where’s the countess? Gnave may be working for her after all.”

  “Obie’s on her tail,” said Hiram. “She went south half an hour ago, after meeting the secretary feller in the park. I followed him to the new mansion and waited out front. Didn’t think he might go straight through and into the other house. What’s up?”

  “He filched the gauge from right under our noses. Tossed it out the window to a confederate. That man he picked up, most likely. Did they have a sack?” Maddie craned her neck, seeking the other urchins amid the traffic both vehicular and pedestrian. “Boys, was Cat after the rock man on foot?”

  “Got ’er scooter,” said Hare. “Rabbit’ll hang off a lamppost wherever she turns.”

  Maddie pictured Cat grinning madly, her crazy contraption hooked onto Gnave’s cab. They’d only catch up if the cab was delayed. Mr. Coggington’s sleek machine was barely creeping along. Where had all these horse-drawn carriages come from? Had every fashionable woman in New York City picked this hour to go out for tea?

  “I wish we had your horse-shifting gadget,” she told Emmeline.

  “Oh, I do. Thanks for reminding me.” Emmeline rummaged in her jacket pockets. “I have an oculex too. Try to spot Rabbit.”

  While Emmeline held out her pen-like device, encouraging horses to pull aside, Maddie stood, leaning against the windshield. The oculex jiggled around and she did too until Hiram’s hands pressed against the small of her back. Then she was able to steady the oculex and see far down the long, straight avenue, over vehicles and past horses, below hanging signs and above sandwich boards. Down Manhattan they rode, the steam-mobile smooth and quiet beneath them.

  Coggington said, “There’s a park across the road ahead. Which way do I turn?”

  Emmeline said, “Left over to Broadway, and then right again.” His immediate swing to the left sent Maddie staggering. She would have gone over the side if not for Hiram’s large hands holding her waist.

  Hare yelled. “There’s Muffet. Get Muffet.”

  The little girl sat atop a newspaper kiosk, her ankles tidily crossed, ignoring the newsman’s demands that she come down at once. Spotting Hare, she stood up and, as the vehicle coasted alongside, she jumped.

  Hiram caught her. “Fank you,” she said, smiling at him. “Rabbit’s at de next corner.”

  As the vehicle turned onto Broadway, he too hopped into the back seat. Mr. Coggington muttered something about his upholstery. Maddie trained the oculex on the road ahead, searching for Cat’s crazy contraption. She saw the Statue first, staring serenely toward Manhattan, and feared they had lost the trail. Then the scooter’s smokestack gleamed in the sunlight beside the ticket booth. Cat was nowhere to be seen among the tourists thronging the landing. A foghorn blare signalled the ferry’s departure. Was Cat on board? Was Gnave?

  Hiram pointed past her shoulder. “Isn’t that Cat on the upper deck? By the forward life preserver.”

  It was Cat, staring anxiously shoreward. As Emmeline directed Coggington toward the dock, Hare and Rabbit leapt up on the seat, waving. Cat waved back, pointing to the deck below. Shifting the oculex, Maddie saw immediately the black coat and hat of Mr. Gnave. Under his arm was tucked a burlap-wrapped item as long and slender as his forearm. The gauge!

  “We must get over to that island before he hands it off,” she said.

  But the shuttered ticket booth told the bad news: there was not another ferry for a whole hour. Maddie scanned the waterfront looking for boats, and then gave it up as a lost cause. She swung the glass toward Battery Park and there was her father’s air yacht. The little runabout was just hooking onto the mooring tower beside it.

  “This way,” she yelled, and, not stopping to consider the consequences, raced toward the mooring.

  Behind her, Emmeline told Coggington, “Find a boat and follow us to the Statue.” Then she ran alongside Maddie. “Where are we going?”

  “Lord Main-Bearing’s runabout.” Maddie dodged around a group of Aquarium-goers and dashed up to the gate leading to the moorings. A guard on duty barred her way. “Urgent message for Lord Main-Bearing’s First Officer,” she gasped. “Up there.”

  The guard let them pass. Maddie charged up the steps to the platform just as Mr. Fairweather stepped off the runabout. She called his name. He came slowly over.

  “This is a private mooring, miss.” Behind him, two crewmen turned from the mooring lines and waited for orders to escort the intrusive young ladies down to earth.

  “I know,” she puffed. “Mr. Fairweather, please order the runabout out again. We must get to the Statue before that ferry does. You can put me down on the shoulder platform. That’s where I saw you from the other day.”

  He looked her over again. “Are we acquainted? In any case, I cannot take the runabout without the consent of its owner.”

  “Lord Main-Bearing. I know. Do you not recognize me?” She lifted the top layer of her hair to reveal the single b
ronze lock. “Look closer. Do you still carry peppermints in your pocket for me?”

  “By the Great Cog! Lady M—”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  MADDIE PUT HER hand to her lips and shook her head frantically.

  After staring at her with puzzled eyes, Mr. Fairweather said, “Yes, the Statue. At once.” He bellowed an order, then offered her his hand to the gangplank. “We’ll get under way immediately. And may I say, La—Miss, it is a great pleasure and relief to see you again.”

  “And I you, Mr. Fairweather. Come, Emmeline. We’ll get the best view forward. Is there another oculex handy?” Before they reached the small, open deck, a crewman was at hand with one. She returned Emmeline’s lens and stretched out the ship’s glass for herself. They were well out over the water before Emmeline spoke quietly.

  “You know the Steamlord’s First Officer, and he knows you. He’s risking Lord Main-Bearing’s displeasure to convey us to the Statue. Why?”

  Maddie didn’t have a ready answer. “I’ll explain it all later. For now, you locate Coggington and the urchins while I scan the island for Obie or the countess.” Emmeline’s eyebrow quirked, but she said nothing more, merely raised her oculex. There would be explanations, eventually.

  The little airship’s gentle vibration tickled the soles of Maddie’s feet just as it had when she was a child. She leaned against the railing, peering forward, hunting the scattered pedestrians on Staten Island for the distinctive scarlet clothing the countess favoured while the W.Y. Knott part of her brain whispered:

  As the net closed around the spy within the Steamlord’s own household, he undertook a desperate, daylight gamble for the marvellous invention. A high-speed chase ensued, through the streets of Manhattan and out over the bay to the grand statue known as Lady Liberty.

  Obie appeared in her oculex, his twisting legs holding him halfway up a light standard near the island’s ferry dock. One arm was hooked around the pole and the other was up to shield his eyes. Following his gaze, she saw the countess, in a billowing red skirt, hurrying into the doors at the Statue’s base.

  “Got her,” she said, “And Obie too.”

  Emmeline said, “Ulysses has a boat. Hiram is piloting. It looks like all the urchins are aboard. Will these crewmen assist?”

  “There are only four of them, and they’ll all be needed to set us down on top of Lady Liberty.”

  “You were serious about that?” Emmeline lowered her glass. “We’ll be lowered to the shoulder platform?”

  “You don’t have to come. You can stay aboard the ship and fetch your father.”

  Emmeline turned a grin on her as wide as Cat Cheshire’s. “I would not miss this chance for anything. Besides, I’d like to pop Countess Olga a good one on the ankle. And the wrist, and the knee.”

  As they neared the giant Lady Liberty, Mr. Fairweather came forward. “With respect, La—Miss, we can’t lower you to the shoulder with the wind in this quarter and the statue oriented away from it. Would the small balcony around the torch work as well for your purposes?”

  Maddie looked at the very tip of the Statue. A narrow strip of catwalk circled the base of the torch-flame. “It’s not much wider than I am. Is that the only option?”

  “I’m afraid so, unless you’d prefer to land at the base. The torch option is safer than it looks. We can stand in close, with no danger of blowing onto the crown’s tines.”

  “Make it so.” Maddie looked at Emmeline. “Are you sure you want to come? They can land you at the base to come up with Obie and Hiram.”

  Emmeline tossed her topaz curls. “There are plenty of people on the ground to cut off escape, but you can’t face the countess alone. She nearly crippled you once already.”

  When the moment came, with the runabout holding station above the torch and slightly to windward, Maddie stepped into the winch-cage with little trepidation. In Mr. Fairweather’s capable hands, she had been winched down to—and up from—beaches, quarries, and her own front door, with never a bump or bruise. The cage swung off the deck and then, for a sickening moment, hung over the green island far below. The crewman in the bow hauled on his rope, the stern rope-man slacked his, and Mr. Fairweather powered the winch. The cage dropped, swinging slightly as it fell below the shelter of the hull. The cable wound swiftly down. When the conveyance scraped the side of the torch directly over the catwalk, Maddie unclasped the cage-door and climbed down the railing. She’d arrived.

  The cage lifted off and returned a few minutes later bearing Emmeline. She stepped off smiling. “I shall insist Papa get us a runabout. Think of all the time we’d save in traffic. Now, how do we get inside?”

  They found a sturdy door that opened onto a narrow tube-ladder, barely wider than their skirts. Maddie went down first, trying to keep her parasol from banging on the metal railing around the rungs. She landed on a curving walkway inside the Statue’s crown. A number of portholes looked out over its huge, squared-off tines. She heard no footsteps but Emmeline’s on the ladder above. Countess Olga Romanova had yet not come this high. They would have to go down to find her.

  Maddie retrieved TD from her pocket and set him back in his nest of hat-ribbons. “Images,” she whispered to him, “whenever I say Countess.” She could also touch his beak for an image, but in the past she had often taken inadvertent photos of her fingers. It would never do to miss the moment Gnave handed over the gauge.

  Emmeline crept to her side. “Any sign of the countess or the secretary?”

  “Not yet.”

  They eased around the walk to a doorway. The room beyond was the inner side of the great copper head. A worktop around the walls held pressure gauges and controls for various functions of the immense, revolving Lady Liberty. Nobody was there. In the floor was a transparent circle that allowed a view through the middle of the Statue. Maddie leaned over, peering downward through the orderly spiral of girders, struts, and staircases.

  Emmeline gulped. “What a long way down. I feel quite dizzy.”

  Nearing the neck was the distinctive white-and-red head of Countess Olga, rising steadily toward them. The woman was looking over the railing, down toward the waist. She carried nothing but her parasol.

  “She doesn’t have it yet,” Emmeline whispered. “Now what?”

  “At this point she hasn't done anything wrong. Come on.” Maddie pulled her out the door and up the curving walkway. As they crouched close against the wall, she noticed something she had missed on her way down: a small rectangle punched through the copper skin. Whatever its original purpose, it made a fine spy-hole. By leaning to the right, she could see across to the doorway. She tipped her hat so TD could see too.

  One set of heels came up the metal stairs. Click, click, click. The woman must be almost at the walkway now. A few more seconds.

  “Countess,” she whispered, and TD captured the woman standing in the doorway.

  Countess Olga Romanova had climbed all 354 steps in a walking dress with so many layers and folds and pleats of skirts it was a wonder she could move at all. She was not obviously out of breath or flushed from the effort. Going to the gauges, she studied them first, then looked out the big, blank eyes to the bright blue sky, and eventually leaned over the transparent floor. Tap, tap, tap went her parasol tip. The dragon on her wrist raised its head and yawned, a long, platinum tongue waggling out. She scratched its chin with one scarlet fingernail as she paced around the chamber. Tap, tap, tap. Clearly the countess was not a patient woman.

  Emmeline was not patient either. “Where is Gnave?” she breathed into Maddie’s ear. Maddie shook her head, raising one hand to her ear: listen for him. Emmeline edged around the walkway, timing her footsteps to the countess’s, and looked over the stairs. After a moment’s concentration, she raised a thumb. Someone was coming.

  Soon Maddie heard the footfalls too, stomping steadily upward. A man’s weight on each stair in turn. The countess faced the doorway, parasol at the ready. The golden dragon ran up her arm and curled around
her neck. Stomp, stomp, stomp.

  “Countess,” Maddie whispered to TD.

  An engineer strode into the little room with his lunch pail clutched under one arm.

  “Hey, what are you doing up here?” he demanded. “Last ferry’s leaving any minute.”

  “Oh, dear,” said the countess with faintly accented sweetness. “I lost track of time. Is there a communicator up here, to ask them to wait?”

  The engineer stomped to the control panel, pushed back a panel, and picked up a speaking tube. The countess rested her parasol tip on his shoulder and did something Maddie could not quite see. The man crumpled to the floor with a look of surprise on his surly face.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  HAD SHE KILLED him?

  Before Maddie could see if the engineer was still breathing, a racket began below. Shouts and clangs echoed among the girders. The countess whirled to the transparent floor. Leaning on her parasol, she bent almost double, peering down. Then she ran to the control panel, twisting dials and spinning wheels. What was she doing?

  At her feet, the engineer groaned. He was alive.

  More shouts came from below, and the grinding of huge gears. Emmeline crept past the doorway to look down the stairs, and soon came back.

  “She’s somehow locked the stairs at the waist platform. Stopped them halfway between positions. I saw Mr. Gnave above them. Some people are on the main platform but I think the urchins are on the girders again, following him up. I’m going to stop him.”

  “Be careful.” Left alone, Maddie stared through the hole at the countess. What could the Russian hope to achieve up here, by cutting herself and Gnave off from the ground? Of course! She didn’t realize there were pursuers already up here. She might have planned a distraction from below, or a getaway from up here by airship. Could Maddie, all alone, stop her?

  And what about Mr. Gnave? If the children reached him first, he might hurt them. They could fall between the girders, all the way down or into the giant gears. If Emmeline reached him first, the same might happen to her. If Maddie could get those stairs into their proper positions, Obie and the other young men could assist from below.