Invasion

Catching his breath Renzi stammered, 'To be here, when . . .'

Laplace tut-tutted, clearly moved by Renzi's ardent manner. 'Sir, this at the least I will do. I will leave it to Mr. Fulton whether or no he desires to be introduced to one who stands in admiration of his work and prays that he might learn more. I believe the proctor's office will be available to us at this hour, and thus you may discreetly satisfy your curiosity as he will permit. That is all I can promise.'

It was an incredible stroke.

CHAPTER 7

IN THE BOOK-LINED, leather-smelling proctor's office Renzi waited for Laplace's return with pounding heart. It seemed an interminable time but suddenly he heard voices outside, then two men entered the room.

Renzi got hurriedly to his feet. 'Th-thank you, sir, so kind in you to see me.'

The man was tall and slender, even graceful, but what caught Renzi's eye was the intensity of his features, the large, dark eyes, intelligent forehead and quick, darting manner. 'Not at all, my friend,' he replied, in a hardly noticeable American accent, then smiled. 'And if I'm not mistaken in my reckoning, you're English, sir.'

'Oh—Smith, Nicholas Smith of, um, Plymouth in Devon,' Renzi stammered, hoping to appear overcome at being in the presence of such genius.

'I know where Plymouth is, friend. I spent three years in Devon at my easel. Fine place to be. Now, be so good as to tell me how an Englishman is here in Paris unhung?'

'Er, I'm assistant to the official mission concerning the exchange of prisoners-of-war—and by way of a scholar, but in the meanest degree,' he added, with a shy glance at Laplace.

'A cartel man? So, not a son of Albion come to his senses and the Republican cause?'

'Ah, not as who should say, sir,' Renzi said, aware that any pretence to radical sympathies as a means of penetrating a tight-knit group of expatriates of the Revolution would never stand scrutiny.

'Pity. So what can I do for you, sir?'

'Mr. Fulton, Monsieur Laplace was good enough to tell me something of your submarine boat, and I confess I'm quite overcome with the grandeur of your vision. To conceive of a craft that swims with the fishes, inhabits Neptune's world like the native denizens—it is truly magnificent.'

'I thank you, sir.'

'Do tell—for I'm on fire with curiosity—when under the sea, do you see by light from the windows or is it a lanthorn or similar? I cannot imagine how it must be, warm and dry but fathoms down in the pelagic gloom lit only by . . . ?'

'Foxfire, sir. Naught but your common foxfire!' At Renzi's look of incomprehension he gave a boyish grin and said, 'A lanthorn or candle produces vitiated air, not fit for a human. This foxfire, we get it from the woods after a season of rain. It glows in the dark, quite enough to conn our noble craft, sir.'

'And you speak of air. Do you take a—a balloon or some such with you on the expedition, to release when the breathing becomes . . . difficult?'

Laplace stood up. 'Forgive me, gentlemen, I must attend to another matter. Do feel free to continue your discussion while I'm gone but, pray, do not leave this office together. It would prove . . . inconvenient for me.'

Renzi could hardly believe his luck: was this his chance?

His whole being urged him to make the move while he could— there might be no further opportunity. Yet a tiny voice of caution insisted that until he knew more of this man he stood a good prospect of being denounced as a British agent.

Fulton moved to the proctor's desk and sprawled in his chair, fiddling with a quill. 'You're both fascinated and in dread of the beast, am I right?'

'Your Nautilus is a scientifical phenomenon of the first order and I'm finding it difficult to grapple with its implications for mankind,' Renzi said.

'It is that.'

'Then—then do you not fear that your wonderful creation might not be subverted to serve an other, baser interest?'

'That of war?'

'It might be supposed.'

Fulton smiled cynically. 'Then, Mr. Englishman, I have news for you. The entire reason for my inventing it is war.'

'Sir, I beg you to elucidate.'

'Believe me, Mr. Smith, to be an enemy to oppression wherever it's to be found. And the only guarantee of liberty for the individual is freedom for the nation. I see that there exists one tyrant, one oppressor, who sorely bears on the nations of this world, that has made perpetual war in my lifetime by bestridin' the seas and robbing the world of its ancient maritime freedoms. Sir, I speak of the Royal Navy!'

'Go on, sir,' Renzi said.

'The rest then surely follows. Nautilus and her sisters'll make it impossible for your damn navy to take to the seas. Their ships'll skulk in harbour, a-feared o' silent assassination, the people will rise up on their monarchy, and then the oceans will be free for all nations in amity to progress on their lawful occasions.'

Was there any sign of madness behind the triumphant smile? If so, Renzi couldn't detect any.

'And that, Englishman, will be the end of war as we know it. No state will ever more hazard to set a fleet of ships a-swim with the intention of dominating the seas, which will then oblige each nation to live peaceable within the bounds nature has set it.'

He spindled a paper lazily. 'In course, I've taken steps to place the whole on a sound commercial footing, as you'd expect of a Maryland farming boy—there's to be a bounty payable on every warship put down by my