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“That’s how I see it too,” said Mr. George.
Gideon sighed, resigned. “It’s all been decided now, anyway.”
* * *
MADAME ROSSINI PUT an ankle-length white dress with a fine-check pattern and a kind of sailor collar over my head. It was held in around the waist by a sky-blue satin sash, and there was a ribbon bow of the same material where the collar met a buttonhole.
When I looked at myself in the mirror, I was a little disappointed. I saw the reflection of a demure, good girl. The outfit reminded me slightly of what the servers wore at Mass in St. Luke’s, where we sometimes went to church on Sundays.
“The fashions of 1912 can’t, of course, be compared with the extravagance of the Rococo era,” said Madame Rossini as she handed me a pair of buttoned leather ankle boots. “I would say the idea was to conceal rather than reveal feminine charm.”
“I’d say so too.”
“And now your ’air.” Madame Rossini gently pushed me down on a chair and made a long side parting in my hair. Then she put it up in strands at the back of my head.
“Isn’t that a bit—well—bushy over my ears?”
“It’s in period,” said Madame Rossini.
“But I don’t think it suits me, do you?”
“Everything suits you, my little swan-necked beauty. Anyway, this isn’t a beauty contest. It’s all about—”
“Authenticity. Yes, I know.”
Madame Rossini laughed. “Then zat’s all right.”
This time Dr. White came to collect me and take me to the cellar where the chronograph was hidden. He looked very bad-tempered, as usual, but to make up for it, Robert the little ghost boy gave me a beaming smile.
I smiled back. He really was very cute with his blond curls and dimples. “Hello!”
“No need to sound so effusively pleased to see me,” said Dr. White, bringing out the black blindfold.
“Oh, no! Why do I have to have that on again?”
“There’s no reason to trust you,” said Dr. White.
“Oh, let me do that, you clumsy fool!” Madame Rossini snatched the black blindfold from his hand. “Zis time no one is going to ruin my lovely ’airstyle!”
A pity, really. Madame Rossini herself put the blindfold on, very carefully. Not a hair was disturbed.
“Good luck, ma petite,” she said as Dr. White led me out. I waved in what I thought was her direction by way of good-bye. Once again, it was an unpleasant feeling to be stumbling about in a void. All the same, the way was beginning to seem more familiar. And this time Robert kept warning me in advance. “Two more steps and now left through the secret doorway. Careful, mind the step. Another ten paces and then we come to the big staircase.”
“Great service you give here! Thanks a lot.”
“Let’s leave out the sarcasm,” said Dr. White.
“Why can you hear me and he can’t?” asked Robert sadly.
“I’m afraid I don’t know either,” I said, and I felt so sorry for him it was almost too much for me. “Is there anything you’d like to tell him?”
Robert did not reply.
“Glenda Montrose was right,” said Dr. White. “You really do have conversations with yourself.”
I put out my hand to feel my way along the wall. “Oh, I recognize this spot. Now there’s another step—yes, there it is—and after twenty-four footsteps, we turn right.”
“You’ve been counting!”
