“When did you start to feel unwell?” Bimmy examined Audie’s face with concern.

“It’s likely just opening-night jitters.” Audie made her most pitiful expression and pressed her hands to her stomach. “Or maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that second sandwich at luncheon.” She hated misleading Bimmy in this way, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “You go on down to supper with Cypher. I’ll be fit as a fiddle after a little rest.” She smiled wanly. “The show must go on!”

Bimmy, already in costume, tugged at the tassels dangling from the hem of her skirt. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

As if on cue, Min slipped through the window, landing with a soft thump on the floor.

“I’ll be in good hands,” Audie said. “Or rather, paws. Go on, now. I’ll meet you at the theater.”

“If you’ve still got your sense of humor, I suppose it can’t be too serious.” Bimmy shrugged into her coat. “But I’ll make sure it’s a very short meal.” She fumbled with the buttons. “Perhaps they could even wrap up my supper and I can bring it here to eat. Keep you company.”

Audie squirmed under the bedcovers. How could she have underestimated Bimmy’s loyalty and concern? “I think the smell of food might make it worse. An hour’s rest and I’ll be good as gold.”

Bimmy bent to tuck the quilt to Audie’s chin. “You’re always good as gold,” she said, placing a little peck on Audie’s forehead. “You rest, then. We’ll meet you at the theater.” Then she was finally on her way.

Audie counted to one hundred, as slowly as she could force herself. “One, two, three … ” It was agony. “Eighty-five, eighty-six.” She peeled back the quilt. “Ninety-nine. One hundred!” She hopped off the bed and grabbed the buttonhook to do up her boots. Min helped by snagging Audie’s coat and dragging it over.

“Thank you, Min.” Audie fastened the last few boot buttons and slipped into the proffered garment. “Fingers and paws crossed that everything goes according to plan.”

Min bounded out the window, while Audie snuck into the hallway to return an exceedingly important phone call. “Yes, it’s all arranged,” she said into the receiver. “Saturday it is.” That mission accomplished, she ducked down the back stairway. It was imperative that she not be seen.

At street level, she cracked the hotel’s rear door, peeking left and right before stepping outside. She adjusted her costume bag over her shoulder, then hurried off to see a man about a wagon, a pair of horses, and a very large container. Had her nerves not been in such a state, Audie would have realized that her exit had been observed. At a respectable pace, her acquired shadow followed, leaving a vinegary trail in her wake.

*   *   *

“I’m worried about Audie,” Bimmy confessed. “In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her unwell.”

Cypher poked at the meat loaf in front of him, making a mental note not to order the Blue Plate Special in the future. “I thought you said it was opening-night jitters.” He tried a bite of mashed potato with gravy. Barely edible.

“Whichever it is, she shouldn’t be alone.” Bimmy held on to the chair seat with both hands, legs swinging like pendulums. “I have a mind to go back to the hotel. Right now.”

“Stay put.” Cypher pointed his fork at her chair. “If she’s unwell, she needs rest and quiet.” He tilted his head in a sideways nod. “Sometimes even the best of friends need a breather from one another.”

Bimmy bit her lip. Had she worn out her welcome with Audie? They had chatted rather late into the night, talking about Houdini and Theo and the Pomegrantos. “I suppose you’re right,” she said glumly.

Cypher set down his utensils, catching something in Bimmy’s eyes that tugged at his well-protected heart. Something he recognized. He cleared his throat. “I planned to go by myself,” he began. “But I could use a hand with my after-supper errand.” He raised an eyebrow at Bimmy. She did not seem to be taking the bait. “Escorting Miss Theodora Quinn to the theater.”

“Oh?” She leaned forward the tiniest bit. “Do you suspect trouble tonight?”

He had her now. Best to play it up. Set the hook. He lowered his voice. “I can’t talk here.”

Bimmy considered. He could sense her about ready to agree. “Well,” she started. “I suppose there is safety in numbers.”

Cypher smiled, triumphant. It seemed he knew a thing or two about young ladies, after all.

“As long as we hurry,” Bimmy added. “I don’t want to keep Audie waiting at the theater, you know.”

“Yes.” He sighed. “Yes, of course.”

*   *   *

Theo answered at the first knock. “I’m almost ready!” She waved them inside. “Come see my laboratory!”

Her hands darted about like finches—scattering bits of string—as she took them on a quick tour. By the time Theo finished showing off her volumetric pipettes and sample tubes and all the different varieties of flasks—Erlenmeyer, and Florence, and filtering—her face was flushed with joy.

“It’s wonderful.” Bimmy eyes glowed with interest. She could imagine herself in just such a place. Someday. Not now, but someday.

As if reading her mind, Theo said, “I meant it about the standing invitation.” She brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. “You are welcome to join me at any time.”

Bimmy nodded her gratitude. “I don’t think I could be a city girl,” she said.

“I’m hoping to move out to the country somewhere. Peace and quiet and—” Theo stopped. “It’s a big dream, I know. But one must have dreams.”

Cypher pulled out his pocket watch and tapped it. “We’re running late.”

“I’ll be only a moment!” Theo turned off this Bunsen burner and stoppered that beaker. She dug her costume bag out from under a mountain of papers. “Ready!”

Cypher took the bag from Theo, struggling with its weight. Had she packed bricks along with her ballet slippers, tunic, and tights? Setting such questions aside, he flagged a cab and they were soon inside. Once they were settled on the smooth leather seats, jostling their way to the theater, Cypher removed a small notepad from his vest pocket. “I’ve been doing some background work on our Mr. Oberon. Does the name Wylie Wurme ring any bells?”

Theo shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“He lived in your boardinghouse at one time.” Cypher checked his notes. “For several years, off and on. Seemed to have formed a friendship with your landlord.”

“Bad taste in friends, if you ask me,” Theo said.

With one ear on the conversation, Bimmy watched the street activity outside the carriage. She mulled over Theo’s invitation. Bimmy Dove, assistant scientist. That had a lovely ring to it.

“Be that as it may, I was wondering if you had ever seen any of Mr. Bottle’s visitors.”

Theo shook her head. “I can’t say that I have. Though if I’m engrossed in an experiment, the President of the United States could come to call on Mr. Bottle and I’d never know it.”

It gave Cypher pause to think of Mr. Taft in conversation with one such as Billy Bottle. The image so distracted him that he lost his train of thought.

Bimmy started at the sight of a familiar shape. Wasn’t that the girl from the train station? The one selling pickles? She leaned forward for a better view, only to have her vision blocked by a wagon bearing a gigantic cask. After it passed, there was no sign of the girl.

Theo spoke again. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

“There is one more thing.” Cypher consulted his notes as the cab drew up to the Hippodrome. “Have you spoken with anyone at the theater? Even a few words after rehearsals?”

“I have followed my orders to the T,” Theo replied with great sincerity. “I promise. I haven’t spoken to a soul.”