The headmistress batted her long eyelashes. “Why, sir, what could you possibly want from us? I’m simply a headmistress transporting these children to their final destination.”
Laying it on a bit thick, isn’t she? thought Sophronia.
“We have nothing of great value. We—”
The flywayman interrupted Mademoiselle Geraldine. “Silence. We know perfectly well what you’ve got those pretty little mitts on. Hand over the prototype.”
“I have absolutely no idea what you are on about.” The headmistress’s trembling smile was well executed, but apparently not convincing.
“ ’Course you do. Where is it?”
Mademoiselle Geraldine shook her head, eyelashes lowered prettily.
“Well, perhaps we’ll simply have a look for ourselves.”
The man stuck his head, briefly, back out the door and yelled something indistinguishable up to the sky.
There came a thump on the top of the carriage. Sophronia and the others could do nothing but watch, mutely, as their trunks, bags, and hatboxes were thrown from the roof to crash to the ground. There they fell open, littering the dusty road with clothing, hats, and shoes.
Two more flywaymen, dressed much like their leader, jumped down after and began rifling through the spilled contents. Whatever they were looking for appeared to be relatively small, as every piece of luggage—no matter what the size—had to be emptied. One of the men even used a knife to slash the bottoms of the trunks, searching for hidden pockets.
This was all highly embarrassing, to have one’s private possessions strewn about in public! Sophronia was particularly mortified that Pillover could see all her underthings—a stranger, and a boy! She also noted that Mademoiselle Geraldine’s trunks included some very salacious night garments. Why, there was a nightgown of purple flannel. Imagine that!
The flywaymen’s movements became increasingly frenzied. Their leader, while still guarding the occupants of the carriage, glanced frequently behind him at the activity in the road.
After a quarter of an hour, the man’s hand, the one holding the gun, began shaking from fatigue.
“Where is it?” he hissed at Mademoiselle Geraldine.
“I told you, young man, you will not find it here. Whatever it is.” She tossed her head. Actually tossed it!
“Impossible. We know you have it. You must have it!”
The headmistress looked off to the far distant horizon, nose elevated. “Your information would appear to be faulty.”
“Come with me. You, children, stay here.” The man dragged Mademoiselle Geraldine from the carriage. The headmistress struggled briefly, but finding the man’s strength superior to her own, she subsided.
“Where’s the coachman?” Sophronia hissed to Dimity and Pillover.
“Probably overcome by physical assault,” said Dimity.
“Or dead,” added Pillover.
“How’d they get to us? I didn’t hear any horses or anything.”
Pillover pointed up. “Sky highwaymen. Haven’t you heard of them?”
“Well, yes, but I didn’t think they actually existed.”
Pillover shrugged.
“Must have been hired by someone,” Dimity said. “What do you think the prototype is for?”
“Does it matter?” her brother asked.
“You think she actually has it?” Sophronia wondered.
Pillover looked at Sophronia with something like pity in his dark eyes. “Of course she has it. Question is, did she hide it well enough?”
“Or did she make a copy?” added Dimity.
“Is it safe to let them think they’ve won?”
“And was she thinking that far ahead?”
Sophronia interrupted their speculation. “That’s a lot of questions.”
They heard Mademoiselle Geraldine say something sharp to the men rifling through the luggage. All three looked out the open door to see what would happen next. The flywayman with the gun struck the headmistress across the face with his free hand.
“Oh, dear,” said Sophronia. “Violence.” She suppressed panic and a strange urge to giggle. She’d never before seen a grown man actually hit a woman.
Dimity looked slightly green.
Pillover’s small face became drawn behind his round spectacles. “I don’t think she planned for this.”
His assessment seemed correct, for Mademoiselle Geraldine proceeded to have a bout of hysterics, culminating in a very dramatic faint in the middle of the road.
“Quite the performance. My sister Petunia once acted like that over a mouse.”
“You think she’s shamming?” Dimity was inclined to be impressed.
“Shamming or not, she seems to have hung us out to dry.” Sophronia pursed her lips. I don’t want to go to finishing school, but I don’t exactly want to be kidnapped by flywaymen either.
The carriage lurched up again.
Sophronia looked at the ceiling. The flywaymen’s transport must be tied to the luggage rails above. She put two and two together: the flywayman’s goggles plus his onion-shaped pin. Balloon transport. At which point Sophronia decided she had better do something about their predicament. “We need to cut the balloon’s ties to the carriage and get to the driver’s box and take command of the horses. Once we get moving, can we outrun them?”
Pillover nodded. “No scientist has figured out how to make air transport move as quickly as ground. Although there were some interesting dirigible prototypes in last month’s Junior Guide to Scientific Advancements and Amoral Superiority. Something about utilizing the aether currents, but nothing on balloons, so –”