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“As you might expect in the circumstances,” replied Mr. George gravely.
Once again Charlotte cast me a brief, searching glance. I stared darkly back. Did it give her some kind of sick satisfaction to know something I didn’t know, although she thought it would be of burning interest to me?
“Oh, nonsense,” said Xemerius. “He’s doing fine, trust me, darling! He just ate an enormous veal schnitzel with French fries and green vegetables. Does that sound like as you might expect in the circumstances?”
Giordano was getting cross because no one was listening to him. “I just hope I won’t be held to blame!” he said shrilly, pushing his little chair aside. “I have worked with unacknowledged talents, I have worked with the truly great men of this world, but never, never in my life has anything like this come my way.”
“My dear Giordano, you know how much we esteem you here. And no one would have been more suitable to teach Gwyneth the…” Here Mr. George fell silent, because Giordano had pushed his lower lip forward in a sulky pout, throwing his head with its cement hairdo right back.
“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he snapped. “That’s all I ask.”
“Very well,” said Mr. George, sighing. “I … yes, well, I’ll pass the message on. Coming, Gwyneth?”
I’d already taken off the hooped skirt and hung it up over the piano stool. “See you sometime,” I said to Giordano.
He was still pouting. “I am afraid there will be no avoiding that.”
* * *
ON THE WAY down to the old alchemical laboratory, which I knew almost by heart now, even blindfolded, Mr. George told me what had happened in the morning. He was a little surprised that Mr. Marley hadn’t passed the news on to me, and I didn’t go to the trouble of explaining.
They had sent Gideon back to the past by chronograph (Mr. George wasn’t telling me what year), to carry out a little errand (Mr. George didn’t say just what that was either), and two hours later, they’d found him unconscious in a corridor not far from the chronograph room. With a lacerated wound on his forehead, obviously made by something hard and heavy. Gideon couldn’t remember anything about it, but the attacker must have been lying in wait for him.
hitman and the boy turned around. When those green eyes under thick, dark eyelashes glanced at me, I knew at once who the strange boy was. Good heavens! Maybe Lesley ought to pinch me too.
“Ah, just the right moment,” said Mr. Whitman. “Raphael, these three girls are from your class. Cynthia Dale, Lesley Hay, and Gwyneth Shepherd. Meet Raphael Bertelin, girls. He’ll be joining your class on Monday.”
“Hi,” Lesley and I murmured, and Cynthia said, “Is this for real?”
Raphael grinned at us, hands casually in his pockets. He really did look very like Gideon, although he was a bit younger. His lips were fuller, and his skin was bronzed as if he was just back from a month in the Caribbean. I supposed the lucky people there in the south of France all looked bronzed.
“Why are you changing school in the middle of the school year?” asked Lesley. “Did you do something to get yourself thrown out of your old one?”
Raphael’s grin grew broader. “Depends how you look at it,” he said. “I’m really here because I was fed up to the teeth with school. But for some reason or other—”
“Raphael has moved here from France,” Mr. Whitman interrupted him. “Come along, Raphael, Mr. Gilles is waiting.”
“See you Monday,” said Raphael, and I had the feeling he was speaking exclusively to Lesley.
Cynthia waited until Mr. Whitman and Raphael were in the principal’s office, and then she raised both arms in the air and cried, “Thank you, God, thank you for answering my prayer!”
Lesley dug her elbow into my ribs. “You look as if a bus had just run over your foot.”
“Wait till I tell you who that is,” I whispered. “Then you’ll look the same.”
Every period of time is a sphinx that throws itself into the abyss as soon as its riddle has been solved.
HEINRICH HEINE
SEVEN
WHAT WITH MEETING Gideon’s little brother and my hasty conversation with Lesley afterward (she asked, “Are you sure?” ten times; I said, “Absolutely sure” ten times; and then we both said, “Crazy!” and “I don’t believe it!” and “Did you see his eyes?” about a hundred times), well, what with all that, I arrived at the waiting limousine several minutes after Charlotte today. Mr. Marley had been sent to pick us up again, and he seemed more nervous than ever. Xemerius was squatting on the car roof swishing his tail back and forth. Charlotte was already in the back of the limousine. She looked annoyed with me. “Where the hell have you been all this time?” she snapped. “One doesn’t keep a man like Giordano waiting. I don’t think you realize what a great honor it is to be taught by him.”
Mr. Marley, looking embarrassed, helped me into the car and closed the door.
“Anything wrong?” I had a nasty feeling that I’d missed out on something important, and Charlotte’s expression confirmed that idea.
When the car began to move, Xemerius slipped through the roof into the interior and flopped down on the seat opposite me. Like last time, Mr. Marley was sitting in front beside the driver.
