When Pascale Auber is forced out of the airship of the evil Dr. Simpelstur, she finds herself rescued by a handsome Ruritanian diplomat, Theo von Hentzau. Pascale soon realizes that Theo is hiding something - something to do with the evil doctor, th...
Dahlia's narrow, wooden desk was wedged into a corner of the room between a coat tree and the window. Dahlia triumphantly placed her chocolates on the desk, then sat down on the single, hard chair, and pulled open the desk's single drawer. I hovered over Dahlia's shoulder as she pulled out her draft of the article, written in pencil on a single sheet of foolscap.
"You can look, but you can't touch," she said, placing the sheet of paper on the desktop. She then proceeded to open the box of chocolates
I leaned over the desk, devouring the article with my eyes. My first order of business was to find that quotation, so I would know how much trouble I was in with my boss. I skimmed past the description of the persons attending the embassy party - the younger son of the king of Barataria; Miss Silverstar; the ambassador, etc. - and some purple prose about the injustices imposed upon young reporters by the metropolitan police before I came upon the right section.
"A terrible accident has happened here," I read out loud, "all evidence points to the explosion starting as a compressed-gas explosion," I gave Dahlia a meaningful look, then continued, "or so claims an alleged compressed-gas inspector who may have been trying to mislead this reporter!"
"Well," Dahlia demurred, popping one of my chocolates into her mouth, "You were, weren't you? It was pretty obvious that it wasn't an accidental compressed gas explosion."
"Yes, you said that at lunch," I agreed, "And suggested there was more evidence - a note - which, I might point out, I haven't seen."
Dahlia rolled her eyes, selecting another chocolate from the box she held in her arms. "I thought you were a real inspector and therefore in league with those loitering ne'er-do-wells who claim to be policemen. But aside from that, it's in the article."
I ignored her judgemental look as I scanned further down the article. I read that the note had been written in pencil on a piece of light cardstock, like the one with the mysterious finger mark. The author had used block letters, meaning that the handwriting was unrecognizable. The note itself was simple:
DOWN WITH ALL ROYALIST SCUM
VIVA RURITANIA!
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