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‘You’ll have to take the gold coin,’ Ada ordered. ‘Too bulky for me to store in my nether garments…’

As soon as she was decent again, Julius went over and packed his pockets.

Ada awaited at the door. If she weren’t dead she might have had a bloom to her cheek. Even so, she still looked radiant; her eyes shone with excitement.

‘You know,’ she said, crooking her arm for him to link with it, ‘I might have been mistaken about you. You may escort me home, sir.’

Ever chivalrous, even to deceased ladies, Julius Frankenstein obliged.

* * *

Foxglove drove as though sedated, for on no account must they attract attention. Under the current ‘Total Security Government’ prowling police coaches were ten-a-penny but people who stole one needed to mimic their stately confidence. Doubtless, the word was out that a Black Maria was missing, but scrutiny would concentrate on those in a hurry. Therefore, Foxglove courteously gave way at junctions, whilst staring down those civilians who dared look.

Meanwhile, within, Frankenstein and Ada had discovered a new rapport. They were as bad as one another.

‘I must confess,’ she said, ‘the violence did rather shock one…’

Julius spread his hands.

‘Madam, if bridges are to be burnt, I see little point in being moderate with the matches.’

‘Perhaps so. I also lazily presumed you to be a stolid Switzer. Not to mention a mere scientist.’

‘‘Mere scientist’? queried Julius.

Ada turned on him in fury.

‘Idiot! I said not to mention mere scientists!’

Frankenstein had flinched away fearing a claw-attack before he realised she was joking. Lady Lovelace’s laugh had no pity.

So, that was how things stood between them! After restoring her to life, after shedding blood to save her from the mincer, even after conducting a bank raid to oblige her he remained just a hired help and figure of fun. Julius seethed.

‘Most amusing, madam. Highly droll. Yet I am surprised to hear you talk so. One thought you a devotee of science.’

‘I see it as a means to an end, herr doctor. However, its practitioners do tend to the tedious.’

‘Likewise the Swiss, I heard you imply.’

‘If so, you seem the exception to the rule.’

Julius smiled to himself.

‘Lady Lovelace, permit me to enlighten you: my countrymen may be likened to a well built bedlam. From the outside, all seems solid and safely gathered in; yet inside wild forces rage. It has been calculated that a million mercenary Swiss have served in the wars of Europe, and, I assure you, complaints are few. I myself have seen service with the army of the Holy Father, and the King of the Two Sicilies beside. War, revolution and rapine are normality to me. I have seen things that would make even your long locks stand aloft.’

It was Ada’s turn to smile enigmatically. ‘That’s all you know…’ was implied.

‘Do you doubt me?’ Julius asked, affronted.

Ada flicked her fan over a face which no longer felt heat or cold.

‘No, one does not. Doubtless you have stood up to your hocks in blood, on the battlefield and operating table alike. Though what you find to be proud of in that I do not for the… life of me know…’

There was just the hint of a stumble there, over her unfortunate choice of words. Lazarans generally learnt to purge ‘life’-related words from their vocabulary for fear of mockery. Lady Lovelace plunged on regardless with barely a pause.

‘My thoughts were instead of your presumption, herr doctor. Do you think me a mere stay-at-home lady of leisure? A woman who has seen and done nothing? Do you not know of my lineage and illustrious father? Let me assure you, Dr Frankenstein, I contain surprises for you yet!’

Julius stretched back in his seat, feeling fairly secure and shock-proof.

‘Surprise me then, madam…’

Ada looked at him, gimlet-eyed, her grey lips compressed to a slit.

‘I will. Take for example, those gems and jewellery you stole today: don’t try to pawn them.’

Contrary to his every wish and intention, Julius was startled. He sat upright. Those were a major part of their haul.

‘Why not?’ he asked.

‘Fake!’ replied Lady Lovelace triumphantly, like it was good news. ‘All fake!’

‘What?’

‘Glass and paste, I promise you.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me at the time?’

‘Surely, you should be asking, why did I? Have copies made, I mean.’

Frankenstein gritted his teeth, not nearly as rich as he thought himself a minute ago. They wouldn’t get so far now, or have so much first-class fun en route.

‘Go on then, madam; enlighten me: why did you?’

Ada was enjoying herself now. Just like her scandalous father she rather enjoyed shocking confessions.

‘Because the real ones are long gone—gone to pay my monstrous gambling debts!’

For the rest of the ride, Frankenstein brooded in silence and there things stood, at an impasse, a chasm yawning between the two travellers.

Not another word was said until Foxglove delivered them to Scotland Yard.

Chapter 6: DUCK ISLAND DISCUSSIONS

That too had been another of Frankenstein’s bright ideas. Where better to leave a purloined police vehicle than among a throng of others? Word was out on the street but it might escape notice for ages buried amongst its brethren.

Foxglove parked at the end of a line of Marias outside constabulary headquarters. When nothing untoward happened he tapped the roof to say the coast was clear.

Still chagrined, not so much about the money but for being bested, Frankenstein didn’t even offer to hand Ada down. His first failure in etiquette to the fairer sex since youth.

So Lady Lovelace sorted for herself. Whilst Foxglove tethered the horses as though they were his and always had been, she exited from the blind side, away from the station entrance. A shapely questing foot found the coach step and then the ground. Meanwhile, she smoothed down her dress—and rubbed Frankenstein up the wrong way.

In other words, still crowing.

‘Am I such a disappointment to you, herr doctor? Dear me, I believe there is a word for young gentlemen who care only for a lady’s financial attributes! I would not have suspected you of being such. You have the dashing looks, I’ll grant, but persons of that… profession are usually far less starchy…’

This was neither the time or place. He and she could both be convicted of capital charges, and Foxglove, as their accomplice, was hardly in any happier position. Instead, Frankenstein cut her dead (that word again) and looked around for safe avenues of escape.

‘This way, and give me your arm.’

He didn’t really want the chill limb but Ada cheerfully complied. With bonnet lowered in maidenly modesty she might pass for a living, breathing, belle out for a promenade with her beaux.

As Big Ben sounded ‘one’ they walked briskly towards St James’s Park, with Foxglove patrolling their perimeter, sniffing out pursuit.

Their ruse called for a modicum of small-talk, granted, but Ada was relentless: a wildcat in defeat and insufferable in victory.

‘Silly man: why else do you think I was so interested in Mr Babbage’s calculating machine?’

‘My indifference knows no bounds,’ answered Frankenstein, speaking through a false smile.

Ada expounded nevertheless.

‘People say Fortune or Fortuna is the goddess of gambling, but if so I am an atheist. No, I say that mathematics is the key that unlocks the treasury of gaming table or track! King Probability rules all. Now that sir, I believe with all my heart!’