“I saw it moving earlier!” the conductor said.
“It’s a—ehm—a wind-up model,” said Bronwyn. “Watch.”
Bronwyn knelt down and set Miss Peregrine on the ground on her side, then reached under her wing and pretended to wind something. A moment later Miss Peregrine’s eyes flew open and she began to toddle around, her head swiveling mechanically and legs kicking out as if spring-loaded. Finally she jerked to a stop and toppled over, stiff as a board. Truly an Oscar-worthy performance.
The conductor seemed almost—but not quite—convinced.
“Well,” he hemmed, “if it’s a toy, you won’t mind putting it away in your toy chest.” He nodded at the trunk, which Bronwyn had set down on the platform.
Bronwyn hesitated. “It isn’t a—”
“Yes, fine, that’s no bother,” said Emma, flipping open the trunk’s latches. “Put it away now, sister!”
“But what if there’s no
“Then we’ll poke some blessed
Bronwyn picked up Miss Peregrine and set her gently inside the trunk. “Ever so sorry, ma’am,” she whispered, lowering and then latching the lid.
The conductor finally took our tickets. “First class!” he said, surprised. “Your car’s all the way down front.” He pointed to the far end of the platform. “You’d best hurry!”
“
With a chug of steam and a metallic groan, the train began to move beside us. For now it was just inching along, but with each turn of its wheels it sped up a little more.
We came even with the first-class car. Bronwyn was first to jump through the open door. She set her trunk down in the aisle and reached out a hand to help Olive on board.
Then, from behind us, a voice shouted, “Stop! Get away from there!”
It wasn’t the conductor’s voice. This one was deeper, more authoritative.
“I swear,” Enoch said, “if
A gunshot rang out, and the sudden shock of it made my feet tangle. I stumbled out the doorway and back onto the platform.
“I said
