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...
I found Theo von Hentzau sitting at the top of the steps leading into the Ruritanian embassy, leaning against the mechanical door-opener in the shape of a huge, wooden stag, standing on its rear legs. Hentzau's brow was furrowed; he held his gloves in his left hand, repeatedly slapping them against the palm of his right hand, then switched hands. Although it was no longer raining, he looked damp, as though he were a black and red handkerchief which had been dropped into a puddle. He heard my approach and looked up just as I got to the foot of the stairs; he was pale, but looked relieved to see me. As he removed his hat, he almost smiled.
"I thought you might not come," he said.
"They have my brother," I responded, unable to keep the annoyance from my voice.
Theo nodded and I pushed past him up the steps.
"Not that way," he said. "We need to have this conversation privately."
~*~
Hentzau led me around to the side of the embassy building, to a location where there was a narrow arch in the red brick walls. The arch created a narrow corridor, access to which was blocked by a white-painted iron gate. Next to the gate was another of the wooden doormen, this one a plump bear cub sitting on a white-painted steel column. Hentzau looked up and down the street, and then up into the air, as if to ensure that not only were there no pedestrians, but no airships, either.
"Here," Hentzau said, shoving his gloves into a pocket, "Give me your hand."
I must have looked doubtful, because he sighed, popped his hat back on his head, and said, "I wish to show you how to unlock the gate."
I fought to keep my interest off my face, casting my mind instead onto my worry for my brother. With what I hoped appeared to be reluctance, I extended my hand.
I was surprised by the warmth of Hentzau's hand. I must have been more chilled than I had realised, fulled entirely by nervous energy in place of warmth, but touching Hentzau's hand gave a sense of pleasant frisson, like tiny electrical sparks driven off a generator.
Hentzau delicately pressed my fingers under the chin of the little bear; there were four buttons, cool and smooth with the feel of metal nestled amongst the wood. He pressed my fingers down – ring, middle, baby, index, middle, index twice. The bear whirred softly, and somewhere inside the building, machinery groaned to life. Hentzau snatched my hand from the bear as its small paw drew back, swinging the gate open.
Hentzau walked through; I followed.
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