Beatrice DuPont stood in the back room of an old costume shop whose equally old and quite blind owner owed Mad Hat a favor and called herself the Duchess.

“How’s it looking?” Mad Hat called from the other side of the changing screen as he absently tossed his hat up in the air.

“You are trying to make me one of your tarts!” Beatrice accused.

The old woman whipped away the screen with a toothless “Tah Dah!” and Mad Hat laughed.

“I promise I’m not, but you will blend in quite nicely with them.”

On Beatrice’s feet were black platform stilettos. On her legs were white fishnet tights, secured with black bowed garters to ruffled bloomers. On her hips was a flouncy, pale yellow mini skirt attached to a ruffled, pale yellow top by a tight white corset. On her arms were long, finger-less dinner gloves. On her head was a poofy blonde wig secured with a thick black head band. In her eyes were violet colored tints. On her face was lots of make-up, fake lashes and a look of utter horror.

Mad Hat whistled. “Darling, don’t you look somethin’!”

Beatrice glared. “Not cool, dude.”

“Would you like some tea?” the old woman asked, and then bustled away without an answer.

Beatrice DuPont looked around her. The club looked just the way they had left it. The music was still blaring, the patrons were still drinking, and the bartender was still polishing.

“Who’s the new cat, Hatty?” a Tart with pouty lips asked her boss as the two strode across the room.

“Nothing you need to worry about, Annette.” He brought Beatrice forward and addressed the small group of employees that had gathered. “Girls, this is Dinah.”

They all looked Beatrice up and down with sour smiles.

Mad Hat led her away. “They’re awful jealous,” he said with a smirk in her ear.

“I’m awful uncomfortable,” she said with gritted teeth.

“You look positively good enough to eat.”

She made a sound of disgust. “Don’t objectify me...”

“Then let’s get going.”

“Sure thing, Hatty.”

He smiled and they walked back into the office where Mad Hat began searching through the stacks of papers piled about.

“It’s around here somewhere…” he trailed.

Beatrice wandered around the room, examining things a lot closer than during her previous time spent there. She found the walls to be covered from top to bottom with shelves upon shelves overstuffed with well worn books titled things like The Complete and Utter History of the Eldeewt Family Tree, and Boating in Sunny Weather, except all the words were written in reverse.

“Ah ha!” he said at last and pulled out a large map. “Now where’s…” he started patting down his pockets and then took off his hat. As Beatrice watched, he stuck his hand farther into his hat than should have been physically possible and pulled out a funny looking spinning top with a hole in it.

He observed Beatrice’s face with amusement. “Why do you think they call me Mad Hat?”

“I thought…” she started. “This really must be a dream - no, I take that back - a nightmare.”

“It can’t be a nightmare while I’m in it, can it, Love?” Mad Hat winked and spun the top on the surface of the map. He had filled the hole in the device with the something he had taken off of the wizard’s desk and now the pieces were spinning together towards a deliberate spot on the delicate paper.

It stopped suddenly, but instead of toppling over it remained standing upright. “Ahh, there we are. Found you.”

“You found the wizard? With that thing?”

“Kelebeck’s not the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve.”

“Or up his hat.”

Mad Hat grinned. “Right.”

“So where is he?”

“Bad news, Buttercup. He’s in the castle.”

“The Prince’s castle?”

“Unless you want to call it my castle,” he shrugged.

She ignored his retort. “So what do we do?”

“We go to the castle.”

“Oh, sure. We just waltz right in and ask the Prince if we could see the prisoner he’s taken. I’m sure he’ll be fine with that.”

“I don’t think he’ll be fine with that,” he argued, missing her sarcasm again. “It won’t be so easy getting to Kelebeck, but he’s our only shot, so we have to try.” The pair walked back out of the office.

“He’s back!” Beatrice hissed from behind her escort. He stiffened but calmly linked his arm with hers and walked forward.

“Play it cool, you look unrecognizable - he won’t even know it’s you… Your Majesty! I see you’ve returned!”

“Is this the girl you were trying to show me earlier?” the Prince asked, his perfectly kept hair still looking like a wig.

“No, I’m sorry, but Dinah is for my own personal collection.”

“Saving the best for yourself, I see.” He looked her up and down.

“Dinah, this is Prince Jacques.”

Beatrice did a small, stiff curtsy.

“Pleasure,” the Prince nodded. “Would you two care to join me for a drink.”

It wasn’t really a question, and the two followed him to a table. Beatrice tried taking the seat next to the club owner but he quickly pulled her to his lap instead. She gave him a fierce look but he merely pointed casually with his eyes to the other tables around them. It appeared that Tartz weren’t allowed their own chairs.

“So how’s the search going for your missing mistress?”

The Prince frowned. “Not well. She seems to have disappeared… my men will catch up with her eventually though.”

Beatrice gazed around the room, trying to look uninterested in the subject of herself.

“I’m sure they will,” Mad Hat agreed, not looking at the woman in his lap who watched curiously as a waiter in a white uniform appeared to be shuffling people’s drinks around while they weren’t looking.

“Harry!” Mad Hat called the waiter over. “Two please.”

Beatrice wanted to ask ‘two what?’, but thought it was best to keep her mouth shut in front of the questionably motivated royalty. The waiter came back with two glass vials filled with bright blue liquid. The two men cheers-ed and took their shots. The Prince made a face after finishing his.

“Too many of those and I swear I can feel my brain shrinking.” He cleared his throat. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh?” Mad Hat asked cautiously.

“I’d like to outsource the search to you.”

“You want me to find your girl?”

“You’re well connected. You’ll hear anything before even my men do. All I ask is that you relay anything you hear about the girl back to me straight away.”

Beatrice was focused intently on her human chair’s jacket collar. She ran her fingers across the seams, but in a more menacing way – as if to threaten strangulation – than in an affectionate manner.

“If I catch wind of anything you’ll be the first to know. How would you like me to notify you?”

“In person, if that’s not too much trouble.” The man of royalty stuck his hand into his coat and pulled out a small key which he slid across the table. “To my private gardens,” he explained. “As I said earlier, I would like this whole business to remain discreet, so I think the side entrance would be best.”

Mad Hat gave a knowing squeeze to the part of Beatrice that his hand was resting on. It happened to be her thigh and her face turned icy. “My ears and eyes are open,” he assured, taking the key and storing it in his hat.

“Good. I’ll let you get to work then!” The Prince stood. “I hope to hear from you soon!”

Mad Hat nodded and his guest left, but not before flirting briefly with a few of the other Tartz. Beatrice jumped up and let out a sigh of relief. “Do you think he was at all suspicious?”

“No… He’s got no reason to believe that what he’s looking for is right in front of him.”

The newly appointed bounty hunter stood and tried leading Beatrice back to the office with a hand on the small of her back, but she bristled away.

“Kindly keep your hands to yourself. Just because I look like one of your tarts doesn’t mean I am one, and you can certainly not handle me like one of them!” She took off her gloves and tossed them at him.

“My apologies.” Mad Hat bowed low, concealing a grin.

“How do we get to the castle?”

He straightened. “That’s easy enough. All roads lead to it eventually... but I know a short cut.” With a rough shake, his hat changed form right before their eyes.