So, all in all, it was a pretty natty Great Hall.

It was also a very crowded Great Hall, and it swelled with swells and glittered with the glitterati. Wilde was holding court before a bevy of breathless beauties. Wilde had come dressed as the Pope, who in turn had come dressed as Wilde. Count Otto Black was to be seen, clad in the star-spattered robes and conical hat of Merlin the magician. He was chatting with Queen Victoria herself, whom Will was surprised to see wore nothing but a diaphanous gown and a pair of high-heeled clogs.

Little Tich was there, of course, wearing his now legendary ever-popular big boots. Will was slightly disappointed to observe that they were not quite so big as he’d hoped they’d be. But then, you can’t have everything, and Will consoled himself with the fact that he had at least caught a glimpse of Queen Victoria’s muff.

Dadd was there, dressed as a packet of pork scratchings. And there were countless others, far too many for Will to count, although he was looking for one in particular.

A minion in a gorilla suit approached Will. The minion bore a silver tray with glasses of champagne. Will helped himself to one of these, took it up and sipped at it.

It was quite exquisite.

Will took another sip and said, “Oh yes.”

This was really something. Really something. Will had seen a lot of somethings during his travels with Hugo Rune. He had dined with potentates and emperors, and even with the Pope in Rome. (Will recalled how he had warned the Pope about the growing threat of vampires, who had been misidentified as saints, and wondered whether the Pope had paid any heed to his warnings.) And Will had visited many palaces. In fact, Will had done a whole lot of wonderful things with Mr Rune, the importance and relevance of which were only now becoming apparent to Will.

Rune had taught him how to fit in, and a whole lot more than that.

But for all that whole lot more, Will had never seen anything quite so splendid and eccentric as this, and as his eyes took it in, his brain did somersaults, which awoke the snoozing sprout, who was similarly impressed when he peered out through Will’s eyes.

“This is good,” said Barry, “if perhaps a little silly. Isn’t that the Duke of Wellington, who, if I’m not mistaken, will later go on to find fame as a lightweight summer sandal with a Velcro strap? Why is he dressed as a grandfather clock?”

Will shrugged. “Just go back to sleep, Barry. I am going to mingle and learn what there is to be learned.”

“And after that we can leave here and get back on the trail of Jack the Ripper.”

“Tweezers, Barry.”

“Good night, chief.”

Will grinned. He felt confident that the word “tweezers” would now be figuring prominently in his future conversations with Barry.

“Don’t forget the law of diminishing returns,” said Barry.

“What?” went Will. “Can you read my thoughts too?”

“No,” said Barry. “But that one was pretty damn obvious.”

“Good night, Barry.”

“Good night, chief.”

And so Will mingled.

Will mingled with members of the French aristocracy. They had come dressed as the cast of Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat, which was having its very first run in London’s West End. Will conversed with them in the fluent French that Hugo Rune had taught him. The members of the French aristocracy were much taken with Will. They talked a lot to him. Their talk seemed mostly concerned with the spread of the British Empire.

Will asked whether they’d come here by bus.

Will learned that they had not.

Will enjoyed a conversation with a Chinese trade delegation. They were pleased to meet an Englishman who could speak Mandarin. The spread of the British Empire bothered them, they told Will.

The Greek ambassador shared a joke with Will. Did the spread of the British Empire give him cause for concern, Will asked. The Greek ambassador said that it did and praised Will for his grasp of the language.

Will sat apart from the crowd of partying folk and took stock of the situation, his situation.

He really did teach me, thought Will. Rune. He may not have chosen to share his magic, if he did have any magic, but I really have learned so much. He prepared me. That’s what he did, prepared me. And I’ll just bet that he would have shared his magic, if I’d been his magical heir. But of course I’m not; Tim is.

And Will thought about Tim and how he missed Tim and how he’d really like to tell Tim all about this, and if it were possible, bring Tim back here and show it all to him.

But then Will thought about the job he had to do. The job he had sworn to do; bring Jack the Ripper to justice, and then, with the help of Barry, go home.

So what was he doing here?

Will knew exactly what he was doing here. And it had nothing to do with meeting the Queen, or searching for clues in the palace.

“Might I sit beside you?” A soft voice spoke at Will’s ear, a soft and lisping voice, a voice with a certain pain in it. Will looked up and found himself staring at a black mask; a sack more like, with a single eyehole cut into it. This sack hung about a head which seemed grossly overlarge. Some eccentric costumery, Will supposed. The figure who wore the sack upon his head was stunted, bowed; there was something altogether uncomfortable about his posture.

“Please do,” Will smiled. “Sit yourself down.”

“My thanks.” The figure seated himself, awkwardly.

Uncomfortably, Will noted the feet of the figure. They seemed huge in comparison to his height.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” the lisping voice said slowly. “My name is Joseph Merrick.”

“Please to meet you, Mr Merrick,” said Will. “I am William Starling, son of the late Sir Captain Ernest Starling. I am puzzled by your costume; what exactly have you come as?”

“I have come as myself. This is a carnival of curiosities and I am surely the greatest curiosity of this age.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Will.

“You do not recognise my true name. Then perhaps you might recognise my professional name. I am known as the Elephant Man.”

“The Elephant Man!” Will stared at the Elephant Man. “I have heard of you. I’ve read about you. This really is a very great pleasure.” Will extended his right hand for a shake. Joseph Merrick extended his and Will shook it.

“Are you enjoying the ball?” Will asked.

“Oh yes, it is wonderful, wonderful. Everyone had been very kind.”

Will nodded, and smiled in that excruciating sympathetic/condescending manner that folk just can’t help doing when confronted with a freak.

“I hate that smile,” said Joseph Merrick.

“Sorry,” said Will. “But you are having a good time?”

“Splendid,” the Elephant Man nodded his oversized head. “And I’m hoping to score later. I’ve been chatting up the Belgian ambassador’s wife and I’m taking her back to my room at the London Hospital later.”

“What?” went Will.

“They can’t resist me. And they can’t help themselves wondering, what’s his tackle like? Is he hung like an elephant?”

Will opened his mouth, but could find nothing to say with it.

“Got any tottie sized up for yourself?” asked Mr Merrick.

“Well, no,” said Will. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“You’re not in The Queen’s Own Cross-dressing Nancy-Boy Shirt-lifting Fusiliers, are you?”

“Certainly not.”

“Well, there’s plenty of pussy going begging. And these posh bints bang like an outhouse door, if you know what I mean.”

“I think I have to be going,” said Will and he rose to his feet.

“Well, don’t be a stranger now. My light’s always on. Bedstead Square, back of the London Hospital. You can shin over the railings. And I’m always up for a threesome.”

“Good luck to you,” said Will. “And goodbye.”

“I’m not him, you know,” said Mr Merrick. “I know some folk think I am, but I’m not.”