She prayed that someone, anyone, would notice Professor Rattigan from the news and contact the police. But it was hopeless. No one paid him the slightest bit of attention. He kept his hat pulled low and he walked quickly, whistling, as if he were taking the children to an excursion at the zoo. Pippa wondered how far they would walk and felt a brief surge of hope—they must surely pass a policeman at some point. But immediately, her hopes were crushed. As though in response to a secret signal from Rattigan, a dark sedan with tinted windows turned the corner and pulled up next to a fire hydrant. She knew that once they got in the car, they were lost.
“I don’t trust him one inch,” Thomas whispered. The children were all hanging back together, moving as slowly as they could without being accused of delaying. “Who’s to say he won’t kill Dumfrey even if we do go with him?”
“You really think he rigged an accident for Dumfrey?” Max whispered.
Thomas nodded. His face was white. “I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
Pippa swallowed. “Then we’ve got no choice,” she said. “We’ve got to make a run for it, and save Dumfrey ourselves.”
“But by the time we get back to the museum, it may be too late,” Sam said gravely.
“If we get in that car, we’re done for,” Pippa said. She felt a desperate panic clawing its way up her chest. Rattigan had reached the car and opened the back door. The interior was dark and smelled like new leather.
“Come along, come along,” Rattigan said in a singsong. But Pippa could tell he was getting impatient. His eyes darted back and forth, as if he was scanning the crowd for potential danger. “Time waits for no man, the early bird catches the worm, and so on and so on.”
Pippa felt like her limbs were rooted to the ground. She could not—she would not—get into the car. Thomas, Max, and Sam had stopped beside her.
Rattigan lowered his voice. “Remember our agreement,” he said, showing his teeth again. “Let’s have no unpleasantness, now.”
“Sorry, Pip,” Sam said. And, sighing, he started to climb into the car.
Then—a miracle. Across the street, Pippa saw a heavyset woman wearing a large feathered hat and gloves trimmed with fur.
Andrea von Stikk.
Pippa had never, ever thought she’d be happy to see the horrible woman—but in that minute, she would have dropped to her knees and kissed the toes of von Stikk’s leather shoes.
“Miss von Stikk!” she called, frantically waving her arms. Sam straightened up instantly, and Rattigan let out a sound like a dog’s growl. “Miss von Stikk!”
“Pippa!” Miss von Stikk’s voice pierced the thin air. She instantly changed course. “How amazing. I was on my way to see you—well, to see Mr. Dumfrey.”
“That was very stupid,” Rattigan spat out, seizing Pippa roughly by the arm.
“Let her go,” Thomas said.
“Very convenient.” Andrea von Stikk barreled into the street toward them. A car had to swerve to avoid her, and the driver leaned on his horn and shouted something rude out the window. “You see, we have much to discuss. I spoke to my lawyers yesterday. . . .”
At that moment, a police car, perhaps attracted by the noise of the honking, turned from Grand onto Ludlow. Rattigan and Pippa spotted it at the same time.
“Sam!” Pippa hissed, jabbing a finger toward the fire hydrant.
Sam didn’t hesitate. He sprang forward and gripped the hydrant with both hands; then, with a grunt, he pulled. The fire hydrant snapped out of the pavement, and instantly, a huge geyser of water shot up from the ground.
It was as though a fountain had been opened in the sidewalk. Suddenly, everyone was shouting and pointing fingers. Andrea von Stikk, drenched from head to toe, stood spluttering and pushing limp feathers from her face. Children hung out the windows. And the police car skidded to a halt.
Rattigan released Pippa and straightened his tie with his long fingers. “How disappointing,” he said, and climbed into the backseat of the waiting car. “No matter. We’ll meet again. Say good-bye to Dumfrey, children.”
He slammed the door and motioned for the driver to go.
Thomas spun toward Sam, who was still holding the torn-off fire hydrant, and shouted, “Stop him!”
Clutching the hydrant in one hand, Sam cocked his arm like a quarterback and took aim at Rattigan’s car, which had pulled away from the curb and was picking up speed.
Pippa tossed the stolen silver letter opener to Max. Max didn’t even blink. Turning gracefully, she raised the letter opener, squinted, and took aim at a tire.
Just then, the doors to the squad car flew open and two policemen jumped out: Sergeant Schroeder and Officer Gilhooley.
“Drop it!” they cried at Sam and Max.
“But he’s getting away!” Pippa cried.
“I said drop it!” Gilhooley yelled. “Now!”
Sam hesitated for an instant, then let the hydrant fall with a heavy clang to the sidewalk. Max muttered a bad word and tossed the letter opener at her feet.
“Now put your hands up,” Schroeder commanded. “All four of you.”
They had no choice. Like outlaws in a cowboy movie, the four children raised their hands while the gushing water continued to rain down on them.
By then, Rattigan’s car had turned the corner and disappeared.