“It has to be him,” Nancy Zeppelin interrupted quietly. “Has to be.”

A long moment of silence passed, broken only by the crackling fire. Master George closed his eyes. No one in the room doubted who the culprit could be. But if Reginald Chu had finally decided to use his significant technological powers to branch out and cause trouble in other Realities, then they were all in for a great deal of trouble. Until today, they’d all hoped, perhaps foolishly, that Chu would be happy ruling his own world with an iron fist.

“Yes, Nancy,” Master George finally said, opening his eyes and sighing. “We should all be quite nervous that Reginald Chu would stoop to such a thing. He obviously has plans for our new friends.”

William Schmidt cleared his throat, a wet, gurgling hack that made Master George wince. Then the old man spoke in his ghost-soft voice. “Chu’s spies must have learned of Higginbottom’s mysterious winking ability. Chu would do anything to have him under his control.”

“For all we know,” Katrina said, “Tick is strapped on a laboratory bed as we speak, his brain being examined for anomalies.”

Master George held up a hand, wanting the terrible talk to stop. “We must keep our minds on solutions, my dear associates. Solutions. And we mustn’t give up hope. Master Atticus is a special boy, as are his friends, and their recovery is our number-one priority.”

“What about all the people going crazy everywhere?” Priscilla asked. “That should alarm us a little bit more than a few missing brats.”

Mothball stood up—Master George reached out too late to stop her. She towered over everyone, her suddenly angry glare focused on Priscilla. “One more nasty word about them three children, and I’ll lop off yer ’ead, I will. That’s a promise.”

“Yeah,” Rutger chimed in. “And I’ll bite your kneecaps.”

“Please, let’s all remain calm,” Master George said. “Mothball, please be seated. I appreciate your concern for Atticus and his friends. Priscilla hasn’t met them, of course, so let’s give her time to appreciate their importance.”

Mothball sat, not taking her eyes off Priscilla, whose suddenly pale face made her look like she might never speak again.

“Now, er, we do need to talk of this matter,” Master George continued. “Sato here has put together a summary of his interviews, and the reports of people going insane are numerous, indeed. Something is very wrong, and it’s spreading throughout the Realities at an alarming rate. Almost
like a—”

“Disease,” Nancy Zeppelin said. “Like a disease.”

Master George paused, studying the beautiful woman as he thought about what she said. She didn’t look back, staring at the table in front of her with a blank expression.