Chapter 11

At number seven on Saville Row, in a different part of London, Passepartout woke up the morning after the Foggs had left for their roof tour to find the house empty. He was concerned, but went about his morning duties. When no one came home by breakfast time, the servant made only enough for himself, but kept the stove hot just in case. After cleaning up the kitchen, he gave the house a good once over and did errands.

Passepartout came home four hours later to a still empty house. Preparing for dinner, the man was getting worried. If this were a mission for the Queen, Passepartout wouldn't need to be concerned until they were missing two days. But this wasn't a mission, yet the same rule might apply. Passepartout set out his dinner and then went to bed with both anticipation and dread for the morning.

The next day, when they hadn't returned, the valet left the house to check Miss Rebecca's residence. When he found no one there, he went on to the old cobbler's shop. The door was locked and quickly unlocked. Passepartout wasn't the servant of a former secret service agent for nothing. He knew all about the little tools of the trade and could use any of them.

He entered the building and headed straight for the roof. The doors to the roof were closed but unlocked. The building keys were in the chain and lock, on the floor next to the doors. Outside on the roof, he found the plank he had made for their use still spanning the alley.

"Master went across, yes, but didn't come back."

Passepartout was about to cross over to look around when he heard the two men down below. They were discussing the discovery of the plank walk and how to get it down. Quickly, he showed himself and retrieved his boardwalk before they could take it away. Master Fogg and Miss Rebecca will need it, and so will I, when I go looking for them tonight.

That thought came into his head of its own accord. Passepartout was a brave man in his way and very loyal to his employer. Over the time he had been with Phileas Fogg, he had extended the work of valet to include bodyguard and partner in missions. These things he had training of sorts for and did well. Passepartout, however, wasn't in the habit of acting on his own and had no instructions about what to do. Can't go to the Director of Secret Service at Whitehall. This not official disappearance and can't be going to the police because he would have to tell them his employer had trespassed on his new neighbor's roof. The only choice seemed to follow.

Passepartout left the building for supplies, planning to return just after dark. Fogg's mission supply list was burned into his memory from constant use. He added several things needed for roof climbing and arming the Foggs should they be in trouble and need to fight their way back.

Near midnight, Passepartout opened the doors to the roof with his lantern to carry out the planking. The glowing green eyes of a little night demon met him. Passepartout started so badly he jumped back, dropping the lantern and falling on the steps. Getting up on his elbows, Passepartout looked to the doorway to see his night demon lightly jump from the balcony rail to greet him. It was just a cat; a black tomcat with white feet and a white patch on his chest that looked like a gentleman's cravat. Passepartout laughed at himself and addressed the cat.

"Kitty giving Passepartout scare!" the valet said, still sprawled on the steps. "Kitty shouldn't be sitting in doorway like that." Passepartout sat up to get to his feet. The cat walked right up to him, sitting down on his lap, and cried at him in a loud voice.

"Passepartout scare kitty too, you say?" he interpreted. "Very sorry," the valet apologized. "Now you must be getting off me so I can get back to sneaking." He tried to shoo the cat away gently, but the animal refused to be moved. The valet finally picked it up and placed it on the floor next to him. That let him get up, but the obstinate animal got in front of his feet, blocking his path. "Kitty is getting very bothering now," Passepartout said. "Kitty needs to go home." He picked the cat up and gave it a toss over the balcony onto the roof and headed back inside to get the boardwalk.

Like a streak of black lightning, the cat came back into the building after him, and stood on the boardwalk before Passepartout could lift it. When the valet made a swipe at the animal to shoo him off again, the cat swiped back with claws extended and hissed. The angry cat bit at his collar. Half-hidden under the fur, something white peaked out, wrapped around the animal's neck.

Passepartout approached the cat slowly. When it didn't offer to attack him again, he inspected the cat's collar. It was a silver chain, a lady's bracelet perhaps, with a fine-looking onyx pendant.

"Kitty's mistress having very much love to give such a pretty thing," Passepartout said. "But kitty having something caught in it. Let me see…"

The paper had been rolled around collar and held with string. Passepartout deftly untied the string and pulled the paper loose. He wondered if this was an address for returning the beloved lost pet. The valet took the note to the lantern.

"Your mistress writes a note," he said to the cat. "It says… Don't follow. Phil."

For a moment, Passepartout didn't quite believe what he had read. It wasn't Phileas Fogg's writing. The letters were all capitals, written stiffly. "Do not follow Phil?" He said aloud to himself. "Don't follow Phileas, or is it? Don't follow, from Phileas?"

Passepartout sat down hard on the steps. The cat came to sit with him, staring up with big green eyes. The servant looked down at the messenger cat, very confused. "I not to follow Master Fogg?" To his surprise, the cat nodded its head as if he understood.

"Something telling Passepartout you are very unusual, kitty, Passepartout will do as note says, but for how long? Kitty knowing where Master Fogg is? Kitty can take me to Master Fogg?"

The cat shook his head no.

"No? Passepartout wishing kitty could talk instead of just moving head," he complained, more to himself than the animal. "Passepartout wait two more days. If Master Fogg not returning, messenger kitty better be here to keep Passepartout from sneaking across roof."

The cat seemed to consider his work done. He walked back out onto the balcony, and with one backward look, he bounded off the rail into the darkness.

Passepartout locked the balcony doors. Taking orders from a cat wasn't to be thought about too closely. The tomcat seemed to be more intelligent than the usual kitty, and when the valet looked into those green eyes… for just a moment…

Passepartout shuddered and left the building as fast as he could.

Two days later, Passepartout came back to the old cobbler's shop and opened the doors to the roof at midnight. The cat was there. It was sitting on the rail, waiting. On his collar was another note. This one had only three words in it. Wait one week. The valet read the note and looked to the cat unhappily. "This from Master Fogg?"

The cat nodded its head.

"Kitty, not knowing how troubling this is for Passepartout. Sir Chatsworth looking for Miss Rebecca. I tell him Master and cousin go away together without telling me where. He not believing me. He says Passepartout knowing where Master and cousin go and must tell. How is Passepartout to tell secret service master that kitty giving me messages like carrier pigeon? Passepartout will be called cuckoo and be locked away!"

The cat had no more instructions and couldn't respond. He jumped onto the roof and headed over the ridge to the front of the building.

Passepartout closed the doors quickly and headed for the front. He saw the cat run across the street just as he opened the door. Following carefully, Passepartout tailed the animal for several blocks.

The cat jumped over a fence into a residential area and jumped the fence again, heading to the front of a townhouse.

Passepartout circled to the front of the block. He heard a low cat cry overhead, several houses down where the messenger cat had been. He watched from behind a tree. A window on the second floor opened. The black cat with white paws jumped into the window, which was closed again quickly.

"Master Fogg might be in this house sending messenger kitty. Then again, maybe this was home to someone holding Master Fogg prisoner."

Passepartout didn't go to the door to find out. He noted the address, choosing to come back later to visit. Whether the messenger cat met him again, this townhouse would be watched to see who came and went. "Sending messages by carrier cat is not Master Fogg's style," Passepartout said to the wind. "Master Fogg not even like cats."