Marteenus whispered giddily to himself, “I’ve done it! I’m inside his house!” He’d tried breaking in the night before, but the darkness had put him so badly on edge that he had to run back to the safety of his airship. It was late Wednesday morning, and the teenage girl he’d dubbed an Amazon had left with milk and eggs. In the bright light of day, he’d found enough courage to loosen the junk blocking the front entrance and crawl in. With every step he anticipated finding the verltgaat machine and his way home. Still, each creak of the floorboards made him jump with fright. The smokestack had been smokeless for some time, he reminded himself. There was no Henry, and the Amazon had left. Going straight to the basement, he’d found that the firebox under the boiler was stone cold and filled with ash. The automatic log-feeding racks were empty. Good, he thought. That was more evidence that Henry was gone.
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