Chapter 17/ Captives
Katharine was shown to a room. It wasn't as small as the cabin she shared with Phileas. It was better furnished, too. She sat down on the bed, ready to collapse from the emotional strain of her meeting with her husband. That had been the hardest thing she had ever done.
A knock sounded at the door. It opened. Two League guards came in with her trunk and Andrew's.
So, they had brought it.
As soon as they left, she laid down on the bed, about to cry, and smelled her husband in the pillows. This was his room. She snuggled into the pillow, drinking in the comforting scent of it. She fell asleep with tears staining the casings.
When she woke, Katharine cleaned herself up in the better accommodations of this room's lavatory and changed her clothes. She picked a rose summer dress Andrew especially liked and a white blouse. They had one day. She couldn't afford to show any weakness in front of her husband. They would make the best of what they were allowed.
Opportunity came quickly. Passepartout left his master's room to ask for a trip to the Aurora for changes of clothing. A guard went with him but didn't follow him into the gondola. "Hurry," he said.
Bless their incompetent souls.
Passepartout headed straight up to his master's room for the clothing and down to his workroom. He put several small smoke bombs in his pockets and a derringer in his vest. This might push his luck, but he also grabbed a handful of big towels and layered them with one other pistol ammunition and a few tools of the trade. Passepartout came out just ahead of the guard, calling for him.
"What are the towels for?"
"My master needing bath," Passepartout said.
The guard just rolled his eyes and led him back to Fogg's room.
Back inside, he requested the guard to call for a tub and prepared the bath. Once the guard left was gone, Passepartout lifted Foggs mattress. Phileas came to help. Under the sheet, Passepartout made a break in the mattress binding. They laid the weapons, ammunition, a pair of lapel daggers, a lock pick, the smoke bombs, matches, some fuses, and pliable explosives that Rebecca had come back from Whitehall with.
It was like clay-based dynamite, and sticky. Passepartout had experimented with it for several days at Fogg's country estate. A piece the size of a penny could destroy a lock. A portion the size of a thumb could remove the entire knob assembly, leaving a splintered hole.
Phileas dropped the cover and mattress over their cache of equipment and prepared for a welcome bath. "When will the earl be leaving?"
"Tomorrow evening with the tide," Passepartout said.
"We should do what we can to leave here after his departure. These accommodations are amazingly comfortable for the League. One wonders if it isn't just for show until the earl leaves."
"I being very surprised at such comfort, too," Passepartout said. "I am overhearing plans for us to leave. They say the master is very pleased with the local commander has you."
Phileas greeted that with a sour face. "No doubt."