The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

TEN Dorian Gray's Residence

While the others in the library stared at the young man in surprised silence, a chuckle came from the invisible man. "So you're a… spy?" Skinner sounded slightly drunk. "I thought spies get shot."

"Not if they shoot first. Which I did," Sawyer said with exaggerated pride. "I followed you all. Knocked out a straggler and took his place." He rapped on his wide-brimmed metal helmet, then took it off. "Darned silly outfits."

Despite his frenetic exertions in the fight, Captain Nemo had not broken into a sweat. He adjusted his blue turban, seating it on his head, then looked in barely veiled dismay at the countless books that had been ruined in the recent battle. Paper and bindings lay scattered and mangled on the floor. When he noticed the subject matter of many of the volumes, however — detailed analyses of the Marquis de Sade, drawings and daguerrotypes of numerous people in bizarre and painful-looking sexual positions — he turned away with a frown, reassessing the magnitude of the loss.

Gauging Sawyer, Quatermain said, "So Americas aware of the situation?"

Sawyer gave an emphatic nod. "War starts in Europe, how long until it's crossed the Adantic? We already lost one good man trying to nail this maniac. The man who fell victim to the Fantom was another agent — and a darned good one, too. A close friend of mine. He believed in what he was doing." The young man seemed amazingly earnest, and optimistic. "And now I'm going to finish the job." His customized Winchester seemed to be all he needed.

Gray noticed Mina sizing up the handsome young American and clearly wasn't happy about it. He sniffed. "Very noble. But this is a private party. You're not invited."

Sawyer stubbornly squared his shoulders. "I intend to find the Fantom. So do you all."

Mina came closer to the young spy, smiling seductively. "Actually, since Dorian has already declined to join our little effort, we are one shy of a full deck."

Remembering the incident moments earlier in which she had used her fangs to rip out the throat of the last hapless marksman, Sawyer swallowed hard and flinched from her close attention. "Uh, Ma'am…"

Gray took up the challenge. "On the contrary, that unexpected battle was just the spur I needed. Very exciting, for a change, with the promise of more to come. And the thrill of an old, sweet friendship renewed."

Mina rolled her eyes.

Gray plucked at his smoking jacket, frowned again at all the bullet holes. "I will have to change my attire, however." He turned to Sawyer and made a shooing gesture. "So, as you can see, young man, you're not needed here."

While Sawyer glared at him, Quatermain came forward to inspect the American agents customized rifle. "Winchester?"

"Modified, American style," Sawyer confirmed, proud to show off his piece and purposerully ignoring Dorian Gray.

Quatermain took it and sighted on the narrow spine of a book on a high shelf. "American style of shooting, too."

"Whatever it takes." Sawyer grinned at the old adventurer, nodded toward the Winchester. "Like it? I brought two of'em."

"He's in," Quatermain said.