pitch and wood, and by the time she had worked it free, the Irishman had already managed to steady himself on the anchor.
“Not again!” Sarah shrieked as she ran toward the end of the deck. She threw the metal stick at him with all her might, but it was only enough to send it spinning through the air for a few yards.
But it was too late—the villain was already rising rapidly into the sky, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
B y the time the doctor's assistant told Nathaniel that he could see Alexander, almost three hours had passed. For most of that time he had been sitting with Grüsser.
The Prussian had seemed desperate for company, and had asked Nathaniel question after question about why he thought Stanton had been so eager to get into a fight with the Southerner.
Nathaniel had suggested that perhaps it was the man's murderous attitude towards negroes that had been the final straw, but Grüsser seemed unconvinced. He believed that the Industrialist's temper alone had been the cause of it.
“Something set him off,” he had replied. “I've never seen him hit a man without a reason.”
“Zen I very much hope zat Herr Stanton never finds a reason to hit me, Ja?”
Later on they had taken dinner in the dining room. As disgusting as he found Grüsser's noisy eating habits, he found the slurping to be a definite improvement over his incessant chatter.
Truth be told, Nathaniel had little or no idea what Clements had done that could make Stanton so angry. The White Knight's costume made it obvious that he had some strong feelings when it came to the negroes, no matter how much he protested that he wasn't involved with the Klan “in any official capacity,” as he had so politically managed to describe it.
But that would have hardly been reason enough to set him off. And even if the Stanton temper was something of a legend, he had never seen him resort to goading and needling his enemies the way he had with Clements. He had lost both decorum and control.
It left the most likely reason as the most obvious: that between his taking on responsibilities as the new head of the Paragons along with the disappearance of Sarah, Stanton had been under too much pressure and had finally cracked.
Nathaniel had tried to talk to his step-father about his step-sister's fate, but the old man had refused to discuss her with him. The Industrialist hadn't searched for her, or even spoken her name since the night she had run away.
For his own part, Nathaniel wanted to believe that she was still well—that Sarah had left the city and carved out a life for herself someplace where she might escape the responsibilities of modern life that she seemed to detest so much.
The only thing that his step-father had revealed was that she had been wearing a costume when she had tried to save the Automaton.
It made Nathaniel laugh to think of her battling criminals and villains. The whole concept was completely ludicrous, and yet according to Stanton not only had it happened, but Sarah had succeeded in driving off the two attackers, even if it had been too late to save the mechanical man. And in retrospect, it did seem like the kind of ridiculous enterprise that she would attempt.
Ever since the events at the Darby house, Nathaniel had been coming to the realization that she had never been the girl he had imagined her to be. And, to her credit, Sarah had tried to tell him as much.
Things had not gone well between them since Darby's death, but siding with the machine over him during their battle had been unforgivable. Luckily the burns and cuts had mostly healed, but he still felt wounded by the betrayal.
But no matter what else may have happened, and despite all the questions that surrounded her disappearance after the mysterious events in Madison Square, he was glad to hear that the Automaton had finally fallen that night.
The metal man had been the most dangerous foe he had ever faced, and just the thought that it might
“Not again!” Sarah shrieked as she ran toward the end of the deck. She threw the metal stick at him with all her might, but it was only enough to send it spinning through the air for a few yards.
But it was too late—the villain was already rising rapidly into the sky, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
B y the time the doctor's assistant told Nathaniel that he could see Alexander, almost three hours had passed. For most of that time he had been sitting with Grüsser.
The Prussian had seemed desperate for company, and had asked Nathaniel question after question about why he thought Stanton had been so eager to get into a fight with the Southerner.
Nathaniel had suggested that perhaps it was the man's murderous attitude towards negroes that had been the final straw, but Grüsser seemed unconvinced. He believed that the Industrialist's temper alone had been the cause of it.
“Something set him off,” he had replied. “I've never seen him hit a man without a reason.”
“Zen I very much hope zat Herr Stanton never finds a reason to hit me, Ja?”
Later on they had taken dinner in the dining room. As disgusting as he found Grüsser's noisy eating habits, he found the slurping to be a definite improvement over his incessant chatter.
Truth be told, Nathaniel had little or no idea what Clements had done that could make Stanton so angry. The White Knight's costume made it obvious that he had some strong feelings when it came to the negroes, no matter how much he protested that he wasn't involved with the Klan “in any official capacity,” as he had so politically managed to describe it.
But that would have hardly been reason enough to set him off. And even if the Stanton temper was something of a legend, he had never seen him resort to goading and needling his enemies the way he had with Clements. He had lost both decorum and control.
It left the most likely reason as the most obvious: that between his taking on responsibilities as the new head of the Paragons along with the disappearance of Sarah, Stanton had been under too much pressure and had finally cracked.
Nathaniel had tried to talk to his step-father about his step-sister's fate, but the old man had refused to discuss her with him. The Industrialist hadn't searched for her, or even spoken her name since the night she had run away.
For his own part, Nathaniel wanted to believe that she was still well—that Sarah had left the city and carved out a life for herself someplace where she might escape the responsibilities of modern life that she seemed to detest so much.
The only thing that his step-father had revealed was that she had been wearing a costume when she had tried to save the Automaton.
It made Nathaniel laugh to think of her battling criminals and villains. The whole concept was completely ludicrous, and yet according to Stanton not only had it happened, but Sarah had succeeded in driving off the two attackers, even if it had been too late to save the mechanical man. And in retrospect, it did seem like the kind of ridiculous enterprise that she would attempt.
Ever since the events at the Darby house, Nathaniel had been coming to the realization that she had never been the girl he had imagined her to be. And, to her credit, Sarah had tried to tell him as much.
Things had not gone well between them since Darby's death, but siding with the machine over him during their battle had been unforgivable. Luckily the burns and cuts had mostly healed, but he still felt wounded by the betrayal.
But no matter what else may have happened, and despite all the questions that surrounded her disappearance after the mysterious events in Madison Square, he was glad to hear that the Automaton had finally fallen that night.
The metal man had been the most dangerous foe he had ever faced, and just the thought that it might
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