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The Royal Society had sponsored other expeditions, with the British government adding supplemental funding. Unfortunately, Fergusson’s ideas seemed just a bit too unorthodox for the conservative members of the club, and they refused to finance the doctor’s proposal. They allowed quite generous grants to numerous other expeditions, making certain that the world was explored and investigated to the fullest extent possible. The Society sent out veritable armies of scientists and collectors to the four corners of the globe.

But not Samuel Fergusson.

Not in the doctor’s favor, was the evidence that two of his other “innovative” (or “crackpot”) designs had failed to get off the ground, after the Society had funded them, and the members in control of the treasury did not want to waste further money on Fergusson’s ideas. His remarkable double-balloon design would not likely progress beyond a scheme on paper.

While sitting in his room, ignoring the dull blueprints of Paris sewers and storm drains, Nemo thought the explorer’s idea had merit, despite his apparent arrogance and blustery personality. As he reread the article, excitement grew within him. But when he studied the diagram for Fergusson’s balloon, he realized it would never work.

As planned, the balloon would not have enough carrying capacity for supplies, scientific instruments, and passengers. The vessel would never make it across the continent, but would instead sink into uncharted areas. Nemo had no doubt that if Fergusson persisted in this plan, he would never be heard of again.

Unless the balloon could be modified. . .

Nemo shrugged off all thoughts of Parisian sewers and set to work with pen and paper, making calculations, incorporating his own ideas. He did not sleep, but still felt more refreshed and alive than he had in many months.

iii

Standing in front of an imposing door covered with peeling black paint, Nemo rang the English explorer’s bell in the middle of the afternoon. He was still breathless but filled with ideas. He had never been to London before.

“I request an audience with Dr. Samuel Fergusson, please.” Nemo stood straight-backed and unwavering on the doorstep. He had spent his savings on a passage across the English Channel, then took a train into London, where he’d had no difficulty finding the doctor’s address.

The gaunt manservant scowled, assessing the young man. He had a high forehead and drooping eyes as gray as winter clouds. His mouth drew together in a pinched frown like a flowerbud shriveling in the sun. “And might I inquire as to your business, sir? You sound . . . French.”

Nemo blurted out the sentence he had rehearsed, though his English was still a bit rough. “The doctor’s proposed balloon design will not work. I have a better idea to share with him.”

Skeptical, the manservant stepped back into the foyer and closed the door, leaving the young man to stand on the street. While he waited, Nemo checked his clothes and smoothed his dark hair, making certain he did not appear to be a wild-eyed madman. He tucked his rolled drawings neatly under one arm, as if they were weapons.

When the door was flung open again, Nemo looked up to see a long-legged man with hazel eyes, bushy dark eyebrows, and a ridiculously huge black mustache that balanced like a canoe upon his lip.

“Whatever is the meaning of this, eh?” Fergusson said, like a roaring lion. “How could you possibly know whether or not my balloon will work? Indeed, I have spent hours on the design, and I missed nothing.”

Nemo held up his rolls of sketches and designs. “Allow me to show you why, Monsieur.” Without waiting for permission, he pushed past the doctor and marched down the corridor, following daylight to the large windows in a drawing room. There, he found a writing desk at which Fergusson had been compiling notes and a list. Nemo unrolled his blueprint on the flat surface.

“Why, I don’t even know you, sir!” Fergusson hovered behind him. “This is highly irregular.”

“Your idea to cross Africa in a balloon is also highly irregular,” Nemo pointed out. “And