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“Huh?” said Nick. “What sort of sense does that make?”
There was a knock, and Mr. Bernard came in with the telephone. Lesley would probably have freaked out if she’d seen the phone lying on a silver platter. Sometimes Mr. Bernard overdid the butler thing a bit.
“A telephone call for Miss Grace,” he said.
Mum picked up the phone, and Mr. Bernard turned around to leave the dining room. He didn’t eat dinner with us unless Lady Arista invited him to, which was about twice a year. Nick and I suspected that he ordered out for Italian or Chinese meals and enjoyed them in the comfort of his own room.
“Yes? Oh, Mother, it’s you.”
Great-aunt Maddy’s eyes twinkled. “Your grandmother can read thoughts!” she whispered. “She guesses we’re discussing forbidden subjects here. Who’s going to clear these plates away? We must make room for Mrs. Brompton’s apple cake.”
“And the vanilla custard!” I’d eaten a huge mound of rosemary potatoes with glazed carrots and pork medallions, but I wasn’t full yet. All the excitement had made me extra hungry. I stood up and began clearing the dirty dishes into the dumbwaiter.
“If Charlotte goes back in time far enough, could she bring me back a baby dinosaur?” asked Caroline.
Great-aunt Maddy shook her head. “Animals and humans without the gene can’t move through time. And no one can travel that far back anyway.”
“Oh,” said Caroline, looking rather disappointed.
“Just as well, if you ask me,” I said. “Imagine what it would be like if time travelers were always bringing back dinosaurs and saber-toothed tigers—or Attila the Hun or Adolf Hitler.”
Mum had finished talking on the phone. “They’re staying the night there,” she said. “To be on the safe side.”
“Staying the night where?” asked Nick.
Mum didn’t answer. “Aunt Maddy?” she said. “Are you all right?”
Twelve pillars the castle of time will bear.
Twelve creatures rule land and sea.
The eagle is ready to soar in the air,
Five’s the foundation and also the key.
In the Circle of Twelve, Number Twelve becomes Two.
The hawk hatches seventh, yet Three is the clue.
FROM THE SECRET WRITINGS OF COUNT SAINT-GERMAIN
FOUR
GREAT-AUNT MADDY looked curiously rigid. She sat staring into space, her hands clutching the arms of the chair. All the color had drained from her face.
“Aunt Maddy? Oh, Mum, has she had a stroke? Aunt Maddy, can you hear me? Aunt Maddy!” I tried to take her hand, but Mum stopped me.
“Don’t do that! Don’t touch her.”
Caroline started crying.
“What’s the matter with her?” asked Nick. “Is something stuck in her throat?”
“We’ll have to call the doctor,” I said. “Mum, do something!”
“She hasn’t had a stroke, and there isn’t anything in her throat. She’s seeing a vision,” said Mum. “It will be over soon.”
“Are you sure?” Great-aunt Maddy’s rigid glance frightened me. Her pupils were hugely dilated, and she wasn’t blinking at all.
