Spring-heeled Jack and the President's Ring

Chapter 20 ~ Magnetron Feels the Heat

"I laughed heartily, as did the others, but they stopped suddenly.  When I turned back to Pung, he had disappeared—replaced by Mrs. Mackenzie."

Satyros's stage explosives proved an effective misdirection.  Southwick's men had run round to the rear of the mansion to investigate, permitting us to exit unmolested via the front doors.  Coburn had piloted the Luftigel at an imprudent velocity and an inadvisably low altitude to rendezvous with us at the prescribed location.  We boarded hastily—I, Cerebelli, Satyros, Anders, and Southwick, who was still unconscious and draped heavily over Anders's shoulder.  Baron barked incessantly at the recumbent General, and remained agitated until we set down hours later at the Contrivance Conservatory.

Home once again, we congregated in the drawing room.  Mrs. Mackenzie stood in the doorway, crossing and uncrossing her arms in a manner that typically presaged a volcanic eruption.  Her jaw was set just so, and her eyes shimmered with unspeakable displeasure.  Each of us in our turn felt the weight of her disapprobation as her gaze fell upon us.

Satyros averted his eyes, rummaging through his many pockets, searching for something.  Cerebelli set his exquisite watch with exquisite precision.  Valkusian put down carefully considered notes to a small leather-bound pad.  Coburn puffed on a cigar and fed pistachios to Bunyip.  I held my hand up to stroke my moustache and realized that I still wore Southwick's butler costume.  Mrs. Mackenzie rolled her eyes theatrically and then directed her most penetrating scrutiny at Anders, who began to redden quite noticeably.  She ignored the tousled Confederate General now handcuffed to Coburn, and seemed not to notice the conspicuous presence of the mask Cerebelli had placed upon the mantelpiece.

We had arrived home at approximately midnight, and evidently awakened her.  No doubt she was annoyed that we had found Anders in Calais, lost him, found him again, and still took several more hours to send her a telegram.  Perhaps she assumed that we would return forthwith, as I had not informed her of our planned mission to the Remarkable Myrmidons's field army.  But it was a secret mission, confound it!

Mrs. Mackenzie huffed indignantly, striding out of the drawing room as soundlessly as she had entered.

Relieved, we continued in our assessments and making of plans.  Satyros applied to Southwick's finger a liberal glaze of a greasy preparation he ordinarily reserved for extricating himself from manacles and other restraints.  President Grant's ring slipped off easily despite the swelling which had set in from Anders's indelicate tugging.  "Voila!" said Satyros.

Pung appeared amongst us, beaming like a new father.  He carried four kittens, two in each hand.  "I find Mozi!" he said, and indeed, the errant feline was at his feet, nimbly threading loops around Pung's spindly legs.  "Look at these fuzzy kitties she make!  I not tell Mrs. Mackenzie, though.  She go clazy when she know."  I laughed heartily, as did the others, but they stopped suddenly.  When I turned back to Pung, he had disappeared—replaced by Mrs. Mackenzie.  She carried a small medical kit.  She removed the crude bandages around Anders's head and began cleaning and dressing the wound, speaking in low tones to Anders.

As we Hogalum brothers conversed, Anders displayed a dismal hangdog expression as he silently received his treatment from Mrs. Mackenzie.  Apparently, he attempted to soothe Mrs. Mackenzie's annoyance by apologizing.  He might have known better.

"Sorry?" Mrs. Mackenzie flushed a brilliant shade of vermillion and the lava began to flow.  "'I'm sorry,' he says.  Oh you'll be sorry all right, Mr. Going-to-visit-my-imaginary-family-be-back-when-I-bloody-well-feel-like-it!  Sorry!  Mary, mother of Jesus!"  This eruption continued at roughly the same intensity until Anders wisely prepared a blindingly potent toddy that placed her in a rather more fumarolic state.

By then, General Southwick was wide awake—and in a blistering foul temper.