Read Online The Oilman's Daughter by Allison M. Dickson, Ian Thomas Healy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Allison M. Dickson, Ian Thomas Healy
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in an apron tangled up in a half dozen recalcitrant dogs, the driver bullied his way to the curb.
While Porter paid the driver, Jonathan climbed down into the lazy afternoon sunlight. He’d spoken to the head financier at the Banque de France and obtained several thousand francs on his personal credit. Porter carried most of it on the theory that he was a less-likely target for a pickpocket.
Many people strolled the narrow streets or rode bicycles to and fro. Horses pulled carts laden with bolts of cloth, piles of lumber, or bags of flour. A civil crew worked at replacing broken cobblestones, chipping them out with a sledgehammer and chisel and pounding new ones into place. Laughter arose from a nearby cafe as an orator regaled his audience in French. Somewhere nearby, a pianist accompanied a woman singing opera. Overhead, a housewife snapped linens from her window while schoolchildren ran past, shrieking at one another.
As the children raced past him, the young man with the dogs became entangled even worse than before. One of his charges broke free and the tiny schnauzer ran yapping after the children. Jonathan bent down and snagged the errant leash and the dog pulled up short with a jerk. It turned and barked its indignation at him.
“Come on, little fellow.” Jonathan gave a firm tug on the leash and the dog, resigned to having lost its freedom once more, trotted past him to sniff at the other dogs held by the young man.
“ Merci, Monsieur .” He turned to the hapless dog. “ Vous êtes un chien très mauvais, Kaiser .”
The schnauzer laid its head on its paws and suffered the man’s rebuke.
“Ask him if he knows Doctor Renault,” said Jonathan.
“English?” asked the man.
“American, actually. Do you know a Doctor Renault who lives nearby?”
“ Oui, Monsieur . He lives in this building. Second door from the end.” The young man pointed to where a hefty woman stood on a stoop, yelling into an open window.
“What’s that all about?” asked Jonathan.
“That is Madame De Gaulle. She’s, how do you say? La maîtresse de maison.”
“Ah,” said Porter. “The landlady.”
“He must be behind in his rent again. The man is helpless without his daughter.”
“I see,” said Jonathan. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful, my friend.”
The man nodded and wrestled the dogs on down the street. Jonathan waited until the landlady left and then he and Porter ascended onto the stoop. He knocked on the door. “Monsieur Renault? Are you home?”
“ Non ,” came a voice from somewhere inside. “Go away.”
“Monsieur, it’s about your daughter. May we come in?”
The door opened a crack and Jonathan could see a suspicious eye looking them up and down. “You’re not with that horrible woman?”
“No, sir.”
The door opened and Doctor Renault urged them inside. “Quickly, quickly, before she returns. Dreadful woman. Her demands will be the death of me.” He was a rotund man with a florid face and cheeks like ripening apples. His tiny black mustache almost disappeared under a prodigious nose and heavy jowls. He mopped his forehead and pushed an errant strip of black hair away from his face. “Now, what is this about Cecilie? She’s supposed to be home by now and she isn’t.”
Jonathan held his hat in his hands. “Monsieur, I’m Jonathan Orbital, with the Circumferential Railroad. I need to inform you that there was an incident, and your daughter is missing.”
“An incident? Missing? But she was in space! What sort of incident?”
“Pirates, Monsieur. They attacked the train and took your daughter.”
Renault collapsed onto a divan. “Pirates took Cecilie? But why?”
“For ransom, I would assume. Are you a wealthy man, Dr. Renault?”
“ Non , not at all.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m behind on my rent. Madame De Gaulle is an evil, evil woman. Uneducated in the ways of science.”
“Perhaps it’s not money the pirates want from you,” said
While Porter paid the driver, Jonathan climbed down into the lazy afternoon sunlight. He’d spoken to the head financier at the Banque de France and obtained several thousand francs on his personal credit. Porter carried most of it on the theory that he was a less-likely target for a pickpocket.
Many people strolled the narrow streets or rode bicycles to and fro. Horses pulled carts laden with bolts of cloth, piles of lumber, or bags of flour. A civil crew worked at replacing broken cobblestones, chipping them out with a sledgehammer and chisel and pounding new ones into place. Laughter arose from a nearby cafe as an orator regaled his audience in French. Somewhere nearby, a pianist accompanied a woman singing opera. Overhead, a housewife snapped linens from her window while schoolchildren ran past, shrieking at one another.
As the children raced past him, the young man with the dogs became entangled even worse than before. One of his charges broke free and the tiny schnauzer ran yapping after the children. Jonathan bent down and snagged the errant leash and the dog pulled up short with a jerk. It turned and barked its indignation at him.
“Come on, little fellow.” Jonathan gave a firm tug on the leash and the dog, resigned to having lost its freedom once more, trotted past him to sniff at the other dogs held by the young man.
“ Merci, Monsieur .” He turned to the hapless dog. “ Vous êtes un chien très mauvais, Kaiser .”
The schnauzer laid its head on its paws and suffered the man’s rebuke.
“Ask him if he knows Doctor Renault,” said Jonathan.
“English?” asked the man.
“American, actually. Do you know a Doctor Renault who lives nearby?”
“ Oui, Monsieur . He lives in this building. Second door from the end.” The young man pointed to where a hefty woman stood on a stoop, yelling into an open window.
“What’s that all about?” asked Jonathan.
“That is Madame De Gaulle. She’s, how do you say? La maîtresse de maison.”
“Ah,” said Porter. “The landlady.”
“He must be behind in his rent again. The man is helpless without his daughter.”
“I see,” said Jonathan. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful, my friend.”
The man nodded and wrestled the dogs on down the street. Jonathan waited until the landlady left and then he and Porter ascended onto the stoop. He knocked on the door. “Monsieur Renault? Are you home?”
“ Non ,” came a voice from somewhere inside. “Go away.”
“Monsieur, it’s about your daughter. May we come in?”
The door opened a crack and Jonathan could see a suspicious eye looking them up and down. “You’re not with that horrible woman?”
“No, sir.”
The door opened and Doctor Renault urged them inside. “Quickly, quickly, before she returns. Dreadful woman. Her demands will be the death of me.” He was a rotund man with a florid face and cheeks like ripening apples. His tiny black mustache almost disappeared under a prodigious nose and heavy jowls. He mopped his forehead and pushed an errant strip of black hair away from his face. “Now, what is this about Cecilie? She’s supposed to be home by now and she isn’t.”
Jonathan held his hat in his hands. “Monsieur, I’m Jonathan Orbital, with the Circumferential Railroad. I need to inform you that there was an incident, and your daughter is missing.”
“An incident? Missing? But she was in space! What sort of incident?”
“Pirates, Monsieur. They attacked the train and took your daughter.”
Renault collapsed onto a divan. “Pirates took Cecilie? But why?”
“For ransom, I would assume. Are you a wealthy man, Dr. Renault?”
“ Non , not at all.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m behind on my rent. Madame De Gaulle is an evil, evil woman. Uneducated in the ways of science.”
“Perhaps it’s not money the pirates want from you,” said
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