Chapter 7London, September 1, 1885
Kent’s face went white. “I’ll have her hide for a drum skin.”
Schwieger flinched, but did not say anything. His report given, he fixed his eyes on the wall over Kent’s shoulder and schooled his face to blankness. William wore a similar expression, Elizabeth noted, and concluded it must be a military trick, a means of fading into the background to escape an angry commander’s notice. She glanced at Maxwell to see if he too was employing the technique, but found herself unable to be certain. His face was dull and expressionless, to be sure, but he had not deliberately adopted the self-effacing look in response to Kent’s anger. He had looked like that for two days now, for the entirety of their journey back to London.
In any case, Kent scarcely seemed to b
