Chapter 4
Close to sunrise, Phileas and Rebecca reached the outskirts of the city. Rebecca had dressed in pants and boots for their meeting with the Irish lawyer to hide the fact she was female. She had kept silent and hidden deep in her cape, allowing her cousin to handle the questioning.
There are things Phileas can do that I cannot, she admitted, such as scare the living hell out of people with just his tall presence and granite hard voice. Of course, the pistol had helped.
Rebecca left her cousin's side to ride on to the back door of the Queen's Inn. Her daily rounds in the shops would not happen in the morning when the sun came up. She intended to give Jules a quick message to tell him of Harris's cooperation, and then head back to rest.
Leaving the horse a block away, Rebecca went into town, ducked into the kitchen door of the Queen's Inn and found a maid's uniform on a rack. The black dress was a big shapeless thing with a high collar, long sleeves and skirt long enough to sweep the floor as she walked. Its white starched apron that synced it around her waist would be the only thing that gave it a polished look. The now proper looking maid tied her hair in a knot on itself several times until it was secure and banished it from sight under a mobcap to match the apron.
The trip up to Verne's room was easy. No one questioned the appearance of a maid in the halls, even at this early hour. Rebecca took her lock pick to the door and was through in seconds.
Verne heard her come in. He was sitting up in bed, having hastily pulled on a nightshirt. "How did it go?" He said sleepily.
"Perfectly," Rebecca said as she came to sit beside him. "This lawyer friend of yours told us he is one of David's helpers. After Phileas scared the life out of him, he agreed to help us rescue him without a single protest."
Having had the displeasure of having the life scared out of himself by Phileas Fogg, Jules did not ask for details. He was just glad he had not had to see it.
"Phileas and I will sleep in today to prepare for this evening," Rebecca said. "Do as you would normally do, but try to get some rest yourself before the excitement this evening."
Jules took in Rebecca's report and warning for him, thinking they could have been talking of a midnight raid on an apple orchard for the sense of adventure she gave it. In a way, he felt her sense of adventure, despite the genuine dangers. Jules wondered if the Fogg courage was rubbing off on him.
Maybe I am playing my part so well, I am fooling myself.
Sitting in his room, getting a sunrise report from a beautiful fellow conspirator gave him a few thoughts of how this scene could be played out if he were the writer controlling events. Verne had written several adventure stories. He had even written a few with himself in the hero's role. He didn't use his own name, of course, just visualized himself performing heroism. On paper, he defeated danger, and won the girl in the end. Watching Phileas over their association had given him lots of material to work with.
Jules checked his imagination as Rebecca left his side, heading for the door. She quickly checked the hall and was gone without a sound.
None of the ideas he had half conceived would have worked on his present conspirator. More likely, I would get severely hurt trying it. Verne grinned ruefully and went back to sleep, considering recharacterizations and shifts in reality.
It took Rebecca more time than she had expected to get changed and out of the Queen's Inn. The kitchen staff had arrived and started the morning baking. She had had to leave the inn in the borrowed uniform with her cape pulled over it. Her horse had been hard to mount in the confining bulk of her highwayman's outfit under the maid's dress, shrouded in a heavy hooded cape, but she managed and took a roundabout path back to her hid-a-way.
When she reached the inn, Rebecca found signs of a large scuffle on the backside of the stable and an empty tack room. Before she did more than jump down and examine the signs, a voice barked behind her, "What are you doing here?"
Rebecca turned sharply to find a large man with the Boar and Lions's innkeeper staring down on her.
"Don't mind her," the innkeeper said to his companion. "That's my cousin's daughter."
"Put your horse in the stall and get up to your room," he said. "There has been trouble here tonight. I will get someone to see to the saddle later."
Rebecca quickly nodded and led the horse to a stall.
Please, she prayed all the way up the stairs to Phileas's room, be asleep and safe.
Her prayers were unanswered. The room was empty.
