Chapter 19

Jules Verne met the Aurora at its usual landing site on the grounds of the British Embassy. When he arrived, the airship had already been tied down and tea was waiting for him. The sight of the Aurora welcomed him from across the lawn like a favorite aunt with a plate full of cookies.

In the time he had become associated with the Foggs, this ship had become a haven for Jules. A home, and he had been away from that home for almost six months. That was quite unusual. They got together for social visits or Rebecca's missions several times a year since they first met.

"How is the mission going in England?" Jules asked it as he reached for his second sandwich from the plate of dainty little creations Passepartout had laid out. That was the main thing on the young man's mind. He was tired of this work and wanted to be rid of it.

"Oh, splendid," Fogg said. "Your part in it is almost over. I noticed you slowed down the pace over the winter. Good idea. I am planning to shut activities down on this end. It will help to have the flow of the research appear to end gradually. Passepartout has been looking over the notes you sent in your last dispatch. He thinks he can help you make a sticky problem with some of the last experiments to give the project a snag great enough to justify closing it."

With that, they finished their tea and went to the warehouse to give the news to the Paris agents.

It took four days to wrap things up. Passepartout and Jules set up a logged snare that in three weeks' time would end the project and Verne's career as an inventor.

On the fifth day, Fogg and Verne spent a night on the town with good food and a play as a celebratory end to the mission. When Jules was dropped off at his garret at the end of the evening, Phileas gave him a thick envelope before parting ways.

"What is this?" Jules said.

"It is your pay," Phileas said in the coach.

Jules just looked at him as if he said something funny. "What?"

"Oh, really Jules. You knew you were not doing all that work just as a favor to us," Fogg joked. "I told you there would be compensation for your time when we started this. Now, here is the full sum for the months you worked for us. Use it in good health and don't spend it all in one place." With that, Fogg closed the coach door and signaled the driver to move on.

Jules put the envelope in his pocket as he watched the coach drive off. He headed up to his cold, quiet quarters. He took it out again and stared in wonder before opening it. He had forgotten about the compensation. It had been many months since the start of this enterprise. He had been enjoying the doing, at least in the beginning. It had been a challenge, a stretching of his mind on a more practical level. It had been much more complex than interpreting his visions of future machines that may or may not materialize in his lifetime. In that, all he did was draw things out. For the mission, he actually had to make them work plausibly.

Finally, he opened it. Inside the envelope, Jules found an accounting overview of his activities and his full compensation, along with French francs enough to make his mouth gape. He could not dispute the figures in the summary. It was all completely correct, but it still had his head swimming to see it handed to him all at one time.

Jules laid the notes out on his desk and counted them one by one, smiling in excitement. There was more money here than he had seen in one place since Fogg won that pile in Monte Carlo. It was twice the yearly living allowance from his father before he had cut it to keep Jules at his studies.

"So, this is earning a living. Better than putting on plays no one comes to see. Maybe I am better at research?"

Jules looked at the half-formed play on his desk and considered what it was about. He got an idea to remake it a little into a history. He could put it in the Sun King's time frame and turn it into the story of a French would-be explorer. I need to do some digging into what it took to build an expedition. What did it take to outfit a ship to the new world? How did one get a royal charter? How…

The questions rolled on and on for the next hour as he took notes by candlelight, oblivious to the rest of the world, filling pages with words.