Spring-heeled Jack and the President's Ring

Chapter 7 ~ Magnetron Encounters the Absurd

"'Isn't it grand?' [Boileau] said repeatedly.  'Oh, my goodness, how I wish we had such a lovely hedgehog in the early days, yes, yes, yes!'"

I shouted into the communication tube that led to the bridge.  "Look there! Below and to port! Do you see it?" They saw nothing, as did I when I returned to my window.  What I had seen was another Luftigel over England.  Of course it was not possible.  It had to be an illusion of some kind.  Perhaps the thick and dimly sunlit mist combined with some unusual atmospheric condition to cause the dense water vapor in the air to reflect an image of the Luftigel back at me.

At length, we landed on the sprawling grounds of François Boileau's estate and were met by the former Hogalum member.  He was a spindly looking thing, a mere wisp of a man, with thin gray hair pasted to the top of his balding head, and watery, expressive eyes.  Every time he spoke, he waved both hands vigorously in front of himself as if fanning his belly.  "Isn't it grand?" he said repeatedly.  "Oh, my goodness, how I wish we had such a lovely hedgehog in the early days, yes, yes, yes!  Tell me, do you have a water closet on your hedgehog?  It's ever so large, isn't it?  Does it go under the water?  Oh, dear, you have animals!"

This prattling was gracefully interrupted by Satyros.  "Monsieur Boileau, we are so pleased to be here, but we have had a long journey.  Perhaps you might show us inside?"

"Oh, of course!  Where are my manners?  Yes, yes, yes.  Have your man take your bags inside.  Gurusigphat will take them to your rooms."  We exchanged befuddled glances, silently urging Satyros to continue as spokesman.  "Our man?"  Satyros shrugged his shoulders.  "We have no servant with us."

Boileau became flustered and pointed a withered index finger at Coburn, saying, "yes, your man, your man!"  Satyros began a protest, but Coburn held his hand up to silence us all.  He circled us, grabbing all of our bags and hefting them onto his shoulders as Bunyip screeched and fluttered, finally landing on Coburn's head.  "Let's go, mates!  I smell food."

It was a sumptuous meal spoiled by the most insufferable conversation.  Coburn had disappeared suddenly, taking Bunyip and Baron with him.  We later learned that he had wisely taken the opportunity to eat in the kitchen with the help.

Gurusigphat, Boileau's East Indian servant, provided a welcome counterpoint to his boorish master.  He stood directly behind Boileau throughout dinner, lampooning him in pantomime.  Boileau's mostly unsuccessful attempts at humor became humorous indeed with the addition of Gurusigphat's exaggerated expressions of uncontrollable hilarity displayed directly above Boileau.  Boileau also assailed us with tales of Spring-heeled Jack, the shadowy and apparently supernatural criminal whom Boileau had vowed to study and eventually capture.  Gurusigphat burlesqued these stories by contorting his own face into caricatures of Boileau intrigued, Boileau shocked, Boileau fearful, and so on.

"Why have you not moved to England to study this Spring-heeled Jack more closely?" asked Valkusian.

"I considered that," said Boileau, "but the food!  Quite unpalatable!  Oh dear me, no.  I shall never leave my home."

Thankfully, Boileau became fatigued early in the evening and abruptly bid us all good-night.  Coburn had rejoined us, and the five of us discussed the inexplicable appearance of the Luftigel double over England.  "It's absurd to think of it.  There cannot be another Luftigel," I said.  "The plans for her construction are secured in an impenetrable safe at the Contrivance Conservatory."

"Indeed," said Cerebelli.  "If that is the case, then where were those plans when Coburn and I were attempting to service the Luftigel?"