Tom Derringer and the Electrical Empire by Lawrence Watt-Evans

Author:Lawrence Watt-Evans
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy series
Publisher: Misenchanted Press

Chapter Twelve

The Family Informed

I had gotten a later start than intended after wrapping up my business in Cape May, and as a result I missed my connection on the way to New Brunswick. The next train would have gotten me in too late to reasonably call on the Vanderharts, so I spent the night in Camden before proceeding. The next morning I breakfasted in Camden, but then went directly from my hotel to the station and caught the next northbound train. With my leather bag in one hand and a newly acquired umbrella in the other I walked from the station to my destination, despite the intermittent rain. I could have secured a hack, but I did not mind the exercise after being cooped up on the train, and I was trying to be less profligate with my family’s money.

I rang the bell, and after only a very brief interval the front door of the Vanderhart home opened. I was startled to see that Betsy’s brother Johannes had answered, rather than an adult; Joe, as he was called, was the elder of the two boys, but still no older than fourteen.

“Yes?” he asked. Then he recognized me. “Oh, Mr. Derringer! Mother’s been waiting for you. Please come in!”

I folded my umbrella and obeyed, setting bag and umbrella by the coat rack inside the front door. Rather than presume a welcome that had not yet been given, I kept my hat on. A moment later I found myself in the parlor, where Mrs. Vanderhart, who had been in one of the armchairs, leapt to her feet and demanded, “Where is he? Why can’t he come home?”

Betsy had been seated beside her mother; now she rose as well, and put a restraining hand on her mother’s arm. “Mother, please,” she said. She looked at me. “Hello, Tom.” Then she turned to her brother. “Joe, could you take Mr. Derringer’s hat and put on the kettle?”

“Where is he?” Mrs. Vanderhart repeated, staring me in the eye.

“Wildwood Island,” I said, as I handed the lad my hat. “I take it you got my telegram.”

“We did,” Betsy said, as her mother glared wordlessly at me. “You said you would explain.”

“And I will! I assure you, it is in no way as bad as we feared. Your father and the other missing scientists are alive and well, safe and well fed and in no immediate danger.” I gestured at a chair. “Might I sit down?”

“Please,” Betsy said, dragging her mother by force back to her own just-abandoned chair.

When all three of us were seated I began, “Professor Vanderhart is currently in the employ of an eccentric and very wealthy Frenchman by the name of Sebastien Boireau.”

“Employ? He teaches at the college!” Mrs. Vanderhart exclaimed.

“But I believe he is presently on sabbatical?”

“Yes, he is,” Betsy confirmed. “He took the year off to visit that volcano in the South Seas, Krakatoa or whatever it’s called. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Since he had returned to America

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