In Search of Goliathus Hercules by Jennifer Angus Page B

breezy summer’s day by the seaside.”
    “Yes,” continued Pablo, “but there was a hint of citrus too and such a sweet aftertaste.”
    “I think that his name might have been John,” said Pedro.
    “No, it was Jean!” said Pablo.
    “I was thinking the country or the town you come from, not the person you resided on! Just forget it!” said an exasperated Henri. Based on their names, Henri had to assume that Pedro and Pablo were from Spain, or maybe Italy. He felt an obligation to them, for no matter how hopeless the two fleas had been, the fact remained that Pedro was now an amputee. Since they were unable to give Henri any better idea of where they came from, he decided to send them to Valencia, Spain. They had mentioned that their host had a taste of citrus, and Valencia oranges were famous. He put the matchbox inside a bigger box and addressed the label:
    c/o General Post Office
    Valencia, Spain
    Henri posted the package and checked his mail but there was nothing. From time to time Great Aunt Georgie sent him letters. He had mailed her the circus’s schedule so that she could send mail to the post offices in the towns where they stopped. He had been very nervous opening her first letter, fearful that she would be angry or hurt at his departure from Woodland Farm; however, quite to the contrary, she had written that she understood his need to travel and to learn as well as his desire to help in some way to find his father. “Besides,” she wrote, “what child wouldn’t want to join the circus? If I were ninety years younger, I would do it myself!” She did caution him to be careful, though. Still, she never mentioned Henri’s ability to speak to insects. And she made no mention of Mrs. Black.
    Henri decided to walk to the town library. The circus had only arrived that morning, so there would be no show until the following day. He wanted to do some reading, particularly on fleas and generally on insects. In the library, Henri gazed at the shelves of books, wondering where to begin. Eventually he selected a number of volumes and took them to a table, pulling out the paper and pencil he had brought along. He had considered bringing the five-year diary to make his notes in, but he felt miserable whenever he looked at it. It reminded him of home and his mother and father. Great Aunt Georgie forwarded him any mail that came from his mother.
    Rarely did his mother send letters. He supposed that since she didn’t have any good news to report, a postcard was easier and less painful to fill. They were postmarked British Malaya. As was his habit, Henri pulled out the stack of worn postcards from a canvas bag. It had grown so big that it would no longer fit in his pocket. He undid the string and read through the two most recent cards containing messages that he could practically recite.

Darling Henri,
    Arrived at Father’s rubber plantation today. His assistant, a local man, says that one day Father was there and the next day he was gone! No notice at all. Most unlike the man we know and love. Nonetheless I think you will agree that in some ways no news is good news! Do not give up hope.
    Love as always,
    Mother
    My Dearest Henri,
    My journey takes me to Kuala Lumpur where I will meet with many of Father’s business and personal acquaintances. I expect they will be able to give me several clues as to Father’s whereabouts. It is even possible that one of them will lead me directly to him. Perhaps he is in a local hospital, too ill even to write. Not to worry, I will nurse him back to health!
    All my love,
    Mother
    Henri tied up the postcards and put them away. He sighed and then opened one of the books on fleas he had selected. As he read, he jotted down facts that he found to be of interest. He wasn’t exactly sure what he would do with the information, but he knew that if he wrote it down, he would remember it better.
    Fact #1: Some fleas can jump 150 times their own body length.
    Having watched Maria, that