ICAP 2 - The Hidden Gallery Read Online Free PDF Page B

nearly blew the four of them in front of a speeding omnibus. Penelope waited until the wind died down before continuing, this time with one hand holding on to her hat. “As Agatha Swanburne once said, ‘Assuming that one is on dry land, the best way to see the sights is on foot. Otherwise, use a canoe.’ Come along, children.”
    Actually, Agatha Swanburne never said any such thing, at least that Penelope knew of. But somehow, pretending that she had made Penelope feel a tiny bit less nervous as she and the Incorrigibles began to navigate their way through the unfamiliar streets.

T HE F OURTH C HAPTER
    A bizarre old woman and a
perfectly nice young man.
    I F YOU HAVE EVER HAD the misfortune of getting lost in a crowded city, you are no doubt already acquainted with a surprising and little publicized fact: The greater the number of people who might potentially be asked for directions, the more difficult it becomes to get someone to actually stop and help.
    Scientists who study human behavior call it the Who, Me? syndrome. For example, if you should have the truly awful luck to get a sliver of sparerib stuck in your throat while dining alone in a restaurant inwhich there is only one other customer, your fellow diner, although a total stranger, will almost certainly leap up and start performing the Heimlich maneuver as soon as you make the universal sign for choking. (If in doubt as to what this sign is, please refer to the informative poster on display in the dining area; this is assuming you are still conscious, of course.)
    Whereas, if the same incident takes place in a bustling restaurant full of people, by the time you draw attention to your plight you may have already turned blue and fallen to the floor. At that point you are truly in a pickle, for instead of swift action there will be a lengthy discussion as onlookers try to determine which of them is best qualified to assist. Some will suggest mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, while others will strive to recall episodes of medical television dramas that may or may not be relevant to your case. A few will phone for help; others will panic and require medical assistance themselves; and many, alas, will simply be annoyed that their dinner was interrupted and will tip their waiters ungenerously as a result.
    Knowing this, in the future you might well choose only to dine in unpopular restaurants. Penelope did not have this option. London was crowded, and there was no getting away from it. Each new street shetrudged down with her three weary charges in tow seemed more packed with unhelpful people than the one before. After an hour’s aimless wandering she knew that she and the Incorrigibles were lost, but all her attempts to ask for directions went unanswered in the din and rush of the crowd.
    Nearing exhaustion, Penelope pulled the children into a dim doorway. There she hoped to catch her breath and make some sort of plan. As it turned out, the doorway already had an inhabitant: a stooped, ancient woman who blended effortlessly into the shadows.
    Drawing upon her last reserves of pluck, Penelope addressed the woman. “Pardon me, madam. Do you have any idea where Muffinshire Lane is? I believe there are likely to be fancy shops nearby?” Penelope did not know for certain about the fancy shops, but given Lady Constance’s affinity for spending money, she felt it was a safe assumption.
    The woman stayed silent. There was something foreign looking about her, Penelope realized: She was dressed in the manner of a Gypsy fortune-teller, with numerous colorful scarves wrapped around her head and a large and equally colorful shawl wrapped around her broad, hunched shoulders. She wore bangle earrings and rings etched with strange talismans on eachof her gnarled fingers. Her deep-set eyes were as dark and shiny as two black olives.
    â€œI am sorry to have disturbed you, then.” Penelope sounded forlorn. She was tired and cold, and she knew the