Rip found it easier to focus on the black-cloaked Lord Humphries rather than take in the whole crowd at once. So he locked eyes with the man as he spoke.

“I’m afraid there’s not really much I can present to you for evidence, other than myself.”

Whispers erupted in the crowd. Rip caught a couple of them.

“That accent!”

“I say! Where’s he from, you think?”

“My word but he’s handsome.”

That last came from a woman seated nearby. Rip felt his ears burn.

Humphries glared at him with a hint of contempt.

“Perhaps you can describe this so-called parallel world you hail from, my good fellow. That might give us a start as to judging your fidelity.”

Rip raised his eyebrows. This time he did sneak a glance at the crowd. They had quieted down, all eyes focused on him in expectation.

“Well . . . it’s similar in many ways to yours. Some of our countries go by different names, and certainly our history has diverged on a few key points. I won’t bore you with the details. The biggest difference between your world and mine, I think, is that we have fully harnessed the power of electricity.”

This statement created a much stronger reaction in the crowd. It ranged from gasps of astonishment and guffaws of disbelief to exclamations of wonder from some of those in lab coats.

“Explain.”

“For power, we use electricity almost exclusively. Very rare indeed is the use of steam, water or natural gas in and of themselves. When we do use those, it’s mostly to generate electricity which we use for lighting, reading, communications . . .”

Rip decided this was not a good time to try and explain the Internet.

“In short, it is as much a part of our everyday life as breathing. In many ways, we have become so dependent on it, we literally could not live without it.”

The murmurs started up again. Humphries raised a hand until the hubbub died down.

“I realize, Sergeant, you have no physical evidence. We have only your words to go by. Rather than have you spend more of our Sovereign’s time than necessary at this meeting, let me instead ask you a personal question. Presuming you are whom you say, what is the one thing you desire most whilst visiting our world?”

Rip did not flinch at this question.

“I would like to go home, as soon as possible.”

Humphries nodded and sat down, ceding the floor.

Hedgefield cleared his throat and said, “Are you certain that is all you wish to inquire regarding this matter, Lord Humphries?”

“There is no way to prove his origin one way or the other,” the earl said, his massive sideburns quivering. “But based on his answer, I am convinced he is who he says he is. Who among us would not want to return home if called from the void to a new world? Were he a deceiver, he would use that question to his advantage, revealing at least part of his agenda. He has not. Therefore, I am inclined to believe him.”

A few more whispers whisked around the room at this statement. The reporters dutifully wrote his comments down verbatim.

He must be a renowned skeptic, Rip thought.

Humphries’s comments turned a lot of thoughtful glances toward him.

“I will allow one question from the bof— the scientists. Professor Briarton, would you like to address Baron Swathmore’s team?”

A short man, completely bald and rather pudgy, stood up in the audience to Rip‘s left. He moved his arms when he spoke, making his sleeves rustle.

“Who cares whether this man is who he says he is? The important question is, how did Darhaven forces get a state-of-the-art tabulator and an electrical resonator deep inside a steam vault?”

A roar of assent erupted from the lab coat crowd. Rip decided they truly were more concerned over that revelation than anything else, based on their enthusiastic support of Dr. Briarton’s statement.

Hedgefield waited patiently for the huzzahs to die down.

“I’m sure there will be inquires, both by the RVS and the Lyceum as well. These matters will be fully investigated. The important thing is, Baron Swathmore and his team fulfilled their assigned mission, and returned safely with Dr. Oggolopoli. I am now closing the public portion of this report. Those wishing to speak with Dr. Oggolopoli further in regard to his experiences are invited to attend his briefing over in the Lyceum, a meeting scheduled about half an hour from now.”

He looked around the crowd, then up at the box seat.

“Your Majesty, thank you for gracing us with your presence. This hearing is adjourned.”

Noise in the room increased immediately as most everyone stood and headed for the exits. The reporters practically shoved anyone in their way to one side as they rushed out the doors. Others in the crowd cast a final glance at the table in front, either smiling or frowning depending on their temperament.

The king, Rip noticed, held his hands steepled over his chest, staring down at the team for a moment. Then he stood and left the box with a final nod toward Bixby, followed by those accompanying him.

Bixby said, “Right. Doctor, it is so good to have you back. I will let you meet with your colleagues, now. The rest of us have an appointment with King Allo, and we dare not keep him waiting.”

“But I must bring Sergeant Coulter with me! I’m going to have a hard enough time convincing my peers he truly is the culmination of all the years of my research without him.”

“I’m sure you understand, Dr. Oggolopoli. The king comes first in these matters, as always. We are the Royal Venture Society, after all.”

Oggolopoli’s face dropped, but he acquiesced. Rip thought the magnified eyes behind his thick glasses looked exceptionally sad.

“Yes, yes. Of course.”

“I’ll be happy to put in an appearance with your people sometime, Doc,” Rip said. “I just hope you don’t lock me up and run experiments all day, or anything like that.”

The professor’s outlook brightened immediately.

“That’s fabulous! I will take you up on it, Sergeant. I practically live at my office here. Take my card.”

He handed Rip a business card with an address on it.

“Please do come visit, as soon as you can. I can round up a group of highly interested people to speak with you at a moment’s notice.”

“Alright. I’ll do that, first chance I get.”

Oggolopoli beamed.

As he got up to go, Rip decided to ask a question niggling in the back of his mind.

“Hey, Doc. Why do they call you and the others doctors? On my world, that’s what we call healers.”

“Ah! ‘Doctor’ is the Remun word for teacher. It’s an honorific for professors at the Lyceum. We call those versed in the healing arts physickers, although I suppose a chirurgeon might be more specific for one treating bodily injuries, such as those found on a battlefield.”

“Physickers. Thank you.”

“Or chirurgeons. You know, for a sawbones.”

“Got it. Thanks again.”

The professor smiled and headed for the exit where a small army of men wearing white lab coats waited for him.

One of them said, “Oggy! You’ve got to tell us all about your adventure!”

“What’s this about a tabulator down there, ay, chap? Come along Oggy, spill the beans!”

He joined his comrades and they filed out the door together.

At last only a handful remained in the seats, most staring openly at Rip.

Hedgefield cleared his throat, drawing the table’s eyes.

“Let’s not keep His Majesty waiting. Come with me through the side door here and we’ll take a shortcut over to his office.”

Everyone stood and followed him to a panel along the wall behind them. With his body blocking their view, he unhooked a hidden latch and the panel swung inward, revealing a dimly lit hall.

Hedgefield made a gesture and allowed them to enter the secret passage first. Then he followed, closing the door behind them.