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Grumbling, she let us go past her.
“Thank you very, very much, Madame Rossini,” I said.
“Ah, my little swan-necked beauty! It was a pleasure! At least you appreciate my work.” I had to grin. I liked the idea of being swan-necked.
Mr. George’s eyes twinkled at me. “If you’ll follow me, please, Miss Gwyneth.”
“We have to blindfold her first,” said Gideon, about to take my hat off my head.
“Dear me, yes. I’m afraid Dr. White insists on it,” said Mr. George, with an apologetic smile.
“But it will ruin her ’airstyle!” Madame Rossini snatched Gideon’s fingers away. “Tiens! Do you want to pull ’er ’air off ’er ’ead? Never ’eard of a ’atpin? There!” She firmly planted the hat and hatpin in Mr. George’s hands. “And carry that ’at carefully!”
Gideon tied a black scarf around my eyes. I automatically held my breath as his hand touched my cheek, and unfortunately I couldn’t keep myself from blushing. But luckily he couldn’t see that because he was standing behind me.
“Ow!” I said. He’d caught a few of my hairs in the knot.
“Sorry. Can you still see anything?”
“No.” There was nothing but darkness before my eyes. “Why can’t I see where we’re going?”
“You’re not allowed to know exactly where the chronograph is kept,” said Gideon. He put one hand on my back and propelled me forward. It was an odd feeling, walking along unable to see my way, and Gideon’s hand on my back made it worse. “An unnecessary precaution, if you ask me,” he said. “This house is a labyrinth. You’d never find your way back to the room. And Mr. George thinks you’re beyond any suspicion of treachery anyway.”
That was nice of Mr. George, even if I didn’t know exactly what it meant.
My shoulder collided with some hard object. “Ow!”
“Hold her hand, Gideon, you stupid oaf,” said Mr. George, sounding rather annoyed. “She’s not a supermarket trolley.”
I felt a warm, dry hand closing round mine and jumped nervously.
“It’s okay,” said Gideon. “Only me. We go down a couple of steps now. Watch out.”
For a while we went on in silence, side by side, sometimes straight ahead, then down some stairs or around a corner, and I concentrated as hard as I could on not letting my hand shake. Or sweat. I didn’t want Gideon thinking he made me feel awkward. Did he notice how fast my pulse was pounding?
Then my right foot suddenly met nothing, and I stumbled and would have fallen over completely if Gideon hadn’t caught me with both his hands and put me back on solid ground. Now his hands were around my waist.
“Careful, there’s a step here,” he said.
“Yes, thanks. I noticed when my ankle turned over,” I said indignantly.
“For heaven’s sake, Gideon, do be careful,” said Mr. George. “Here, you carry the hat, and I’ll help Gwyneth.”
It was easier to walk along holding Mr. George’s hand. Maybe because I could concentrate more on the steps I was taking than on not letting my hand shake. Our walk lasted half an eternity. Yet again I had a feeling we were going down into the depths of the earth. When we finally stopped, I suspected they’d taken me on a couple of long detours just to confuse me.
A door was opened and closed again, and at last Mr. George took my blindfold off.
“Here we are.”
“Exquisite as a young May morning,” said Dr. White. But he was talking to Gideon.
“Thanks!” Gideon made a little bow. “The latest thing from Paris. I ought really to be wearing yellow knee breeches and yellow gloves with this outfit, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
“Madame Rossini is furious,” said Mr. George.
“Gideon!” said Mr. de Villiers reproachfully. He had just appeared behind Dr. White.
“Well, Uncle Falk, I ask you! Yellow knee breeches?”
