Fantomas the Diabolique; or

Around The World in Eighty Days; or

How The Hunters Became The Hunted

by

Caroline Miniscule

The life of a gentleman's gentleman is a life of perfection, thought Jean Passepartout, reaching out to pick up another butter-drenched scone from the plate in the center of the table. He had never doubted it for a second, not even when his previous employer had used him as a stake in a card game and lost! His new Master, Philias Fogg, was all that one could hope for. Calm, cool, regular in his habits - a typical phlegmatic Englishman. And now he had learned of another benefit, for as soon as he had arrived at this Fogg mansion in Marleybone Mews, on an errand for his master, he had been informed of Miss Rebecca Fogg's absence, but whisked below stairs to the kitchen by the parlourmaid and presented with the scones and a cup of tea.

''Miss Fogg is always gadding about,'' the maid, a petite young thing whose name was Alice, confided to him. ''The last place to find her is usually here, but it's here that everyone comes. That's why there's always something on in the kitchen. Our Cook is the best in London if I say so myself. You just come in here and have a scone or two whilst we wait for her to return.

Passepartout was not a man to turn down a scone, even one made by an English cook, and when he saw the liberality of the platters of butter and clotted cream he set to with enjoyment. ''You're from France, Mr. Pastpartoo?'' asked young Alice.

''I left Paris five years ago,'' Passepartout told her cheerfully, ''in the service of an Englishman diplomat who was recalled. Since then, I have had ten masters!''p> ''Ten!''

Passpartpout nodded.