Henry selected a picnic site near one of the main paths, where we were quite visible, and though I’d never seen him socialize much, he made a point of waving and speaking to almost everyone who passed. I suspected he was establishing an alibi—making enough show of his presence that anyone who was asked would remember him having been in the park that afternoon. I bit my tongue to keep from smiling at the thought.

While I poured tea from a flask and passed out cakes, Rollo told his uncle in exhaustive detail about the airship. Henry looked as alarmed by the news as I felt. “Where do you think it will dock?” Rollo asked.

“I doubt it will stay. It will unload the troops and return to England, perhaps making a stop in the south for cotton.”

“Do you think Grandfather could get me a tour of it while it’s here?”

I nearly choked on the sip of tea I’d just taken. If I could get on that ship, it would be the perfect opportunity to gain useful intelligence, and I knew if I was with Rollo, I’d get all the technical specifications. “I’m sure it would be very educational,” I said mildly. “And it’s not an opportunity that comes along often.”

Henry nodded to Rollo. “I’ll send a message to your grandfather and see if he can arrange anything. It will depend on how long the ship stays.”

Rollo put his binoculars to his eyes and scanned the sky, then said, “It’s coming back!”

“It may have left some troops north of the city to guard the major roads and railroads,” Henry said, taking his handkerchief out of his pocket, lifting his hat, and wiping his forehead. He looked ill, with beads of sweat forming on his upper lip and his skin a pale, grayish color. He went even paler when a pair of policemen on patrol appeared, and his sigh of relief when they passed was audible.

While Rollo watched the approaching airship, Henry rose to take a turn around that area of the park, stopping to talk to several people he knew. I couldn’t help but muse upon what he was so anxious about. When he returned to us, I asked, “Did you find your beetle?”

“My beetle?”

“The one in the country that’s about to go away for the winter.”

“Oh, that beetle. Yes, we found a rather extensive colony of them, but I’m afraid that will be the last we’ll see of them for a while.”

“Winter must not be a good season for entomology,” I said sympathetically.