The Japanese Devil Fish Girl and Other Unnatural Attractions Part 29

'Burghers of Jupiter,' said George. 'And yes I surely recognise them to be the survivors of the party that accompanied us to the volcano.'

'Move along, please,' said a verger with a yellowed face and deep cadaverous eyes. 'There's thousands queuing to see what must be seen. Hasten along now and do not hold them up.'

George and Ada took several paces forwards. George called back to the verger. 'Sir,' he said, 'might I take a moment of your time?'

The verger shuffled up and nodded his jaundiced head.

'The man who brought this great wonder to England-'

'Professor Coffin, the mighty explorer and hero of the Empire.'

'Yes,' said George. 'That very fellow. Is he in attendance with the statue?'

'Indeed yes.' The verger's head bobbed like a mad canary's.

'So he sits within that booth?'

'The sacred shrine, yes.'

'Might I ask one more thing?' said George, and proceeded to ask without waiting for permission. 'What is your personal opinion of the statue? You are a man of faith. What do you believe it to be?'

'It is Sayito,' said the verger. 'All truly devout Christians who have studied the Apocrypha know of Sayito. Moses received the knowledge of Sayito when he received the Ten Commandments from G.o.d upon Mount Sinai. The story goes that when he descended from the mount and found the Israelites worshipping a brazen calf, he flung down the tablets of stone, including a great grimoire dictated to him by G.o.d. The Book of Sayito The Book of Sayito, that grimoire was called. And it was pieced together and is said to still exist, written in a universal language that all can understand.'

'So who do you believe Sayito to be?' George asked.

'The Mother of G.o.d. The Grandmother of Christ. We kneel in this great cathedral and we worship G.o.d Almighty. But G.o.d Almighty, He worships Sayito.'

A chill ran through George Fox and his teeth gave little chatters. 'Thank you for your time, sir,' said George to the verger and he and Ada moved forwards.

'I do not suppose,' George whispered to Ada, 'that some kind of plan is now forming within that extraordinarily beautiful head of yours?'

'I was thinking,' Ada whispered in return, 'that that that is a very large stained-gla.s.s window.' is a very large stained-gla.s.s window.'

'Very large,' said George. 'And noted for it.'

'Large enough to perhaps accommodate the nose of an airship. Say if someone was to crash one, perhaps the one that circles above, through it, connect lines to the statue, tow the statue out into the sky and away at speed to its temple.'

'That is an outstanding plan,' said George. 'I foresee a number of difficulties. But then no doubt so do you. And no doubt also you have plans for how they might be surmounted.'

'Not really,' said Ada. 'I just made up the first thing that came into my head in the hope that it might inspire you you. Oh look, it would appear to be our turn.'

The Venusian party had entered the 'inner temple', seen what there was to be seen, made hasty abeyances before the holy statue and then been hustled out by two burly 'protectors'. They left the 'inner temple' as George and Ada entered it. The looks upon their faces lacked for their usual composure.

Burning censers flanked the beautiful statue. The flames reflected in rainbow hues about the golden G.o.ddess. If anything, She looked even more beautiful than the first time George had seen Her. But there was something about that uplifted face, a sadness, a vulnerability that George had not seen before.

Ada Lovelace caught her breath and curtseyed unconsciously before the holy sculpture. 'Oh George,' she whispered. 'She really does look very like me.'

'Well, my, my, my,' came a most familiar voice. 'If it is not my dear friend and fellow traveller, George. And if my senses do not deceive me, he has married the lovely Ada.'

George looked up towards the canvas awning that served as a sloping ceiling. There, amidst lofty scaffolding, was a sort of throne chair, bolted to safety and containing the unsavoury personage that was Professor Cagliostro Coffin.

'You swine,' said George simply. But simple can often say so very much.

'That is no way to speak to your ex-business partner. Have you seen the crowds, George? Thousands of Rubes. I shall be a millionaire by the end of the week. And six months from now-'

'There may not be a six months from now,' called George. 'Do you not realise what you have done? You have committed the Great Blasphemy. The Martians may even now be rising from the volcano crater in their war craft to murder us all.'

'Oh please, George, do do give me give me some some credit.' Professor Coffin laughed. 'I am not a fool, far from it. There will be no Martian attack. The volcano is, how shall I put this, credit.' Professor Coffin laughed. 'I am not a fool, far from it. There will be no Martian attack. The volcano is, how shall I put this, somewhat full somewhat full. I purchased many, many, many boxes of explosives before I returned to the island. If any of the Martians survived the enormous rockfall, it will take them many years to dig themselves out.'

'You fiend!' cried Ada Lovelace.

'Oh come now, my dear,' returned the professor. 'I have brought the greatest treasure in the universe to London. Her Majesty is awarding me a knighthood. My autobiography will, I believe, top the list of best-selling tomes for years to come. A fiend, you think? Me? Surely not. I am Professor Coffin. Hero of the Empire.'

George Fox felt himself at a loss for words.

Ada snarled at the man who sat above.

'I do wish we could chat some more,' called down Professor Coffin, 'but so many people are queuing and anxious to see my treasure that I regret you must take your leave.'

'I will be back,' called George and he shook his fist. 'You have not heard the last of me.'

'Oh, on the contrary.' Professor Coffin leaned most forward in his throne-like chair. 'You fail to understand. You will be taking your leave now, but you will not be returning. You cannot be allowed to wander abroad telling who knows what kind of tales about me. I regret to tell you, George and dear Ada, that this is a final farewell.'

Professor Coffin clapped his hands. 'Gentlemen,' called he.

Two unsavoury types, none other than the burly protectors, appeared, one from either side of the statue's base.

'Allow me to introduce you to my business a.s.sociates, ' called Professor Coffin. 'This gentleman is Bermondsey Bob, the bad bruising bare-fist brawler.'

Bermondsey Bob grinned evilly and gave a little bow. He was big, brawny and sported hands the size of Christmas turkeys.

'And this is his companion Limehouse Lenny, the Laughing Lepidopterist.'

George said, 'Lepidopterist?'

'A geezer 'as to 'ave an 'obby,' growled Limehouse Lenny. 'For when 'e ain't owt mutilatin' corpses and a-droppin' of small children down wells.'

'Quite so,' said George.

'Show him your cut-throat razor, Lenny,' cried Professor Coffin.

Limehouse Lenny showed his razor. It was a very large razor.

'Mr Bob and Mr Lenny will now escort you from the premises.' Professor Coffin rose from his chair and gave a little bow. 'Please do not make a fuss about this. It would be almost blasphemous to shed blood upon holy ground. Farewell to you, George, farewell to you, Ada. We will not be meeting again.'

39.

Ada and George were led from the inner temple. They were nudged along a stone corridor and out through a small door into the cathedral yard. A yard that was surprisingly quiet, given all the thousands who mobbed about the cathedral's front. Here was a little island of peace in the midst of a human sea.

A four-wheeled funeral cortege carriage with blinds at its windows and high black plumes to each corner stood at the centre of the yard, with two rather wretched-looking black ponies attached to the shafts.

'On board,' demanded Bermondsey Bob, giving George just a hint of the biffings to come with a monstrous fist. 'We're goin' on a little journey, we are.'

'A one-way journey,' said Limehouse Lenny, laughing as he said it.

Ada turned upon the deadly duo. 'Gentlemen,' she said, 'I do not believe for one moment that such fine specimens of manhood as yourselves would harm a helpless female.'

'You'd be surprised at the depths we'd stoop to.' Bermondsey Bob did sinister grinnings.

'Especially me,' said Limehouse Lenny. 'I'm a ravin' nutter, me.'

Ada winked at Limehouse Lenny. 'You're very handsome, ' she said.

The Laughing Lepidopterist, a leprous brute with a broken nose, few teeth that were not blackened stumps and a single eye to call his own, viewed the lovely tousled woman with interest.

George looked aghast at Ada, but she merely squeezed at his hand.

'There's little I would not do for a beau like you,' she said to Lenny.

'And what about me?' asked Bermondsey Bob.

'Oh, you too,' said Ada, fluttering those gorgeous lashes of hers.

The East End thugs made atavistic gruntings.

'Perhaps within the carriage,' said Ada. 'One at a time? Or together?'

George's jaw was on his chest.

'Could I have my perfume, dear?' asked Ada.

George Fox managed a, 'What?'

'My perfume, dear. You have it in your waistcoat pocket. A slim gla.s.s phial of colourless liquid with a screw-on cap.'

'Ah,' said George. 'Yes,' said George. 'And here,' said George, 'please take it.'

And he withdrew from his pocket the slim gla.s.s phial that contained the Scent of Unknowing.

'And I'll take that that,' bawled Bermondsey Bob, s.n.a.t.c.hing it from George's hand. 'The professor warned us that you might just have this in your possession and that it would be best to relieve you of it should it so appear.'

George Fox made a desperate face. He was a desperate man.

'You did not drop your h's when you made that little speech,' Ada observed.

'Nah,' said Bermondsey Bob. 'We do all that simply for effect. East Enders don't speak in that fashion to each other, only to strangers. But then neither myself, nor my, to use one of Mr Oscar Wilde's terms, "life partner" Lenny here, would wish to engage in any unsavoury s.e.xual hanky-panky with you in the carriage.'

'Gag me with a spoon,' said Limehouse Lenny.

'So,' Bob continued, 'no more old nonsense. Into the carriage and away to the river, where you will be weighted down with stones and sent off to feed the fishes.'

'Gor blimey, guv'nor,' said Limehouse Lenny.

'Gor blimey, guv'nor indeed, my friend.' Bermondsey Bob did urgings forward. Ada and George did climbings into the carriage. Limehouse Lenny shinned up to the rear and took up the driver's whip.

Exactly how the carriage managed to evade the crowds and find its way almost at once onto open roads was beyond George's comprehension. And as the blinds were down over the carriage windows, he would never know whether even his wildest speculations, should he actually have them, were founded in fact.

George and Ada sat in the carriage's rear seats, Ada clinging to her love and looking every bit the damsel in distress, George trying hard to affect the stiff upper lip of a Hero of the Empire, but failing for the most part dismally.

Opposite them sat Bermondsey Bob, manicuring his nails.

'I do not suppose,' George whispered to Ada, 'that you have any more plans at all?'

Ada Fox shook her head in sadness. 'None whatsoever, ' she said. 'But in all fairness, I do feel that we had, to use another of Mr Wilde's expressions "milked that particular gag for all that it was worth".'

'I do not really wish to end my days feeding fishes,' whispered George. 'And I certainly will not stand idly by and let any harm come to you. I will think of something.'

'Do you think blue or purple?' asked Bermondsey Bob of a sudden.

'Excuse me?' said George. 'What?'

'I was talking to your wife,' said Bermondsey Bob. 'Purple, or blue, for my tailcoat and matching accessories? When the professor goes to the palace to receive his knighthood, Lenny and I are to accompany him as his personal escort. I was just wondering which would be an appropriate colour for my turnout.'

'Surely black,' said Ada, through her teeth.

'Oh no, love, black is so "last season". Purple is said to be the new black, but I don't know. Purple tends to bring out the broken veins in my nose.'

'Are you sure that you two are in the right profession? ' George asked. 'You would not be happier working in, say, the theatre?'

'No thanks, love. Too many old queens trolling about.'

The carriage b.u.mped over a manhole cover and conversation ceased.

The carriage then did a bit more b.u.mping and took a sudden veering to the right. Ada found herself upon George's lap, and Bermondsey Bob lost his nail file.

'What's goin' on 'ere?' he demanded to be told, back in character once more.

The voice of his life partner called down from above. 'Some raving loony in one of them new steam cars keeps b.u.mping up against us.'

'Put a whip to the 'orses, Lenny,' called Bermondsey Bob. 'We'll outpace any clankin' steam car.'

Limehouse Lenny whipped up the horses and George fell back in his seat.