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“Brilliant, eh? Yes, yes it is. But because of my, er, unfortunate track record with similar balloon designs, the Society chooses to fund more conventional expeditions. I shall never get the chance.”

“Your balloon designs are flawed, as I will demonstrate. You, of all people, Dr. Fergusson, should listen to an unorthodox concept. I would hate to see your expedition fail because of several miscalculations that could have been avoided. I suspect that your earlier test flights failed for the same reasons.”

“But what sort of . . . miscalculations can you mean?” He stroked his thick mustache like a man petting an unlucky cat. “Indeed, I cannot deny that my earlier balloons were disasters, eh?”

Nemo pointed to the columns of numbers, and the flustered doctor scanned them, pretending to redo the math in his head. “You’ll need five weeks in a balloon to traverse Africa, Monsieur. As is apparent here” -- he jabbed a finger at his calculations -- “even under favorable winds, you will not have enough flotation for three weeks. Your hydrogen gas will not last for the duration necessary to cross such a distance. Even if the Society had seen fit to fund your expedition, you would have crashed in the middle of the continent.”

“Yes, yes, I see now. Perhaps they were wiser to fund traditional overland treks instead, considering. . . .” Fergusson nodded, intent. His indignation forgotten, he stared at Nemo’s drawing instead. “Indeed.”

“My new balloon design will, on the other hand, succeed.” Nemo squared his shoulders. “I am confident of it.”

Fergusson tapped the sketch with his forefinger. “You appear to have two balloons?”

Nemo nodded. “One inside the other, with a valve so that gases communicate from the inner sphere to the outer sphere. I have also developed a mechanism that can heat and recondense the hydrogen gas to increase our buoyancy.”

“And the purpose for that is?” Fergusson raised his bushy black eyebrows. He sounded testy now, but Nemo could tell it was only an act. The man was intrigued by the innovative design, and somewhat abashed at the clear mistakes he had made with his own proposal.

“For maneuverability,” Nemo said. “In previous travel by balloon, one has been at the mercy of the winds. However, aeronautical studies have proven that the winds blow in different directions at different altitudes. Therefore, we must simply seek a height at which the winds will blow us on our westward course.”

“Our course? We? What do you mean, we?”

“I intend to come along, Doctor, since the design is mine.” Nemo’s gaze was calm and unshakeable. “Is that so much to ask?”

“An international expedition, you say? English and French? My, that would cause quite a scandal.” Then Fergusson’s excitement deflated. The long-legged man stepped away from the writing desk. He shook his head. “Alas, it is a moot point now, my friend.”

“Why? The design is quite practicable,” Nemo insisted. “I know it can take us across Africa.”

Fergusson tugged on his enormous mustache, as if trying to remove it from his lip. “No, young man. The problem is with the Royal Geographical Society. They have sent out their quota of explorers already for the coming year. This afternoon they denied my second appeal for expedition funding, and therefore there will be no balloon trip. Unless you have a private fortune of your own, eh?” The doctor chuckled. “And that much I doubt, from your appearance.”

Flushed with embarrassment and disappointment, Nemo realized the brashness of his scheme to come here. He should not have bothered the scientist. His new balloon design must have thrown salt on the would-be explorer’s wounds.

“I apologize for taking your time, Monsieur.” Nemo gathered his drawings and backed out of the drawing room. “If circumstances should change, allow me to give you my name and address so that you can contact me.”

Fergusson nodded, his thick brows knitting together. “Most certainly, my friend. I admire your verve -- and audacity. Reminds me of your Napoleon Bonaparte, eh? Of course, he was defeated in the end, as well.”

Nemo took