Congreve clenched his fist. He wanted to step in, but realized that any action he took at the moment would only endanger himself without helping Mitchell.
The Mormon Consul, a lean, angular
man named Brigham, arrived
finally. Without giving Congreve
a chance to speak at all, the
consul talked the case over with the
Immigrations man. The man at the
desk seemed to give Brigham considerable
respect, and finally the Consul
signed several papers, and motioned
to the American astronaut.
"You've been placed in my custody until we straighten your case out. Come along with me," he told the other, taking him by the arm and leading him out.
Congreve kept quiet. Once in the street, they entered the consul's car, which, the American noticed, had diplomatic plates and the Mormon coat of arms on the side. They drove in silence to a large brownstone house where they descended to the street. On one side of the door was set the same Mormon shield and the legend "Mormon Republic—Consulate."
Entering the building, they proceeded to the consul's private office where Congreve was given a seat. "Now suppose," said Brigham in a kindly tone, "you tell me your story."
The pilot of the first space ship from Earth lost no time in giving his account. The consul smoked a pipe and looked at him while he talked, giving no indication as to whether or not he believed him.
"You have had an amazing experience," remarked the man when Congreve had finished, "and I fear you have undergone considerable mental stress. But let me put you straight on some cases where you seem confused."
The Consul took the pipe out of his mouth as if uncertain where to begin. "At the present moment, you are in the building of the Mormon Republic Consulate, at the corner of Fifth and King Charles Avenues, in the city of New York. This entire area is within the British Dominion known as the Federated Appalachian States. This is, as you assumed, the North American Continent." The Consul stood up and unrolled a large map of North America that hung on the wall. Congreve leaped to his feet in amazement: never had he dreamed the like.
The Consul put his finger on the city of New York. "As you can see, all this territory in pink is the Appalachian Dominion." His hand swept over the territory covered by the original thirteen colonies, Maine, and all the territory east of the Mississippi River, from Wisconsin down to approximately where Memphis should be. From there the Appalachian. territory cut across to the Atlantic Ocean, never touching the Gulf of Mexico at any point. "All this territory is a British Dominion, separate from the Dominions of Canada and Newfoundland, to the North."
His hand fell to the Peninsula of Florida and a section of the Gulf of Mexico. "This is all the Republic of Florida, the uppermost of the Spanish-American Republics." West of the Mississippi, from. Louisiana up to Missouri, the map showed as "Empire of Louisiana." A pseudoindependent country, actually a French protectorate. Texas stood out roughly in its old shape as Republic of Texas.
Far to the West was the Dominion of California, stretching along the
