The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen by Kevin J. Anderson Page A

implacably, as
if the door would have the good sense to open by itself. It was left to the old
adventurer to step up to the entrance, grasp the handle of the ostentatious
knocker, and rap hard several times. It sounded like a hammer battering a piece
of thick hull plating.
    After the resounding echoes died away, Quatermain waited, staring at the door
instead of his fellow recruits. Finally he heard soft, delicate footsteps
padding like a lion approaching prey. The door opened to reveal a suave man
shrouded in shadows and lingering sweet tobacco smoke. "Hello?"
    Quatermain squared his shoulders, facing him. They were of the same height,
but the other man seemed much more full of himself. "Gray? Mr. Dorian Gray?"
    The man stepped forward into the light. He was a dashing fellow with unruly
hair and a smile that seemed just the faintest degree away from an outright
sneer. He wore a deep purple smoking jacket and exotic slippers. "I am
indeed."
    "We… came by way of M."
    "Ah, M for mystery… or perhaps it's for melodrama… or mediocrity." Dorian
Gray looked at the old adventurer on his doorstep as if he was nothing more than
a speck. "Well, I told him and I'm telling you— whoever you are—I'm not
interested."
    He finally deigned to notice the odd company on his doorstep: Nemo in his
outlandish semi militaristic uniform and colorful turban, Skinner in his dark
glasses and white face paint.
    And Mina.
    "Hello, Dorian," she said, seeing his eyes go wide with sudden
recognition.
    "Mina? Mina Harker! It's been ages… though perhaps not long enough—"
    Without comment, she pushed past Quatermain, her skirts rustling, and entered
Gray's front hall. The elegant man backed up to let her inside.
    Before the other League members could follow her, she grasped the edge of the
door and flung it shut in Quatermains' face, leaving them standing alone outside
on the rain-damp step. He blinked, at a loss. "She who must be obeyed,"
Quatermain muttered under his breath. "I've heard that one before. And she
already thinks she's our captain. Trouble. Plenty of trouble."
    Skinner snickered. "I knew she was a sassy one.  Aheh!"
    Nemo had not moved. "Another demonstration of the much vaunted British
civility."
    The three men stood there in uncomfortable silence, then the door opened
again. Now Gray wore a more friendly expression, smiling so that his youthful
face appeared ready to crack. "Please, gentlemen, excuse my bad manners. Come
in." He extended a welcoming hand.
    Mina stood in the foyer behind him, looking satisfied.
    "Mina tells me that an intelligent man, an open-minded and cultured person
such as myself should do his guests the courtesy of
listening
to
them—before turning down their request." He shot a sly look at Mina, whose green
eyes reflected the challenge back at him.
    Dorian Gray seemed full of life, but in the way a piece of spoiled fruit is
full of flavor. His eyes were wide and bright, as if dazzled by harsh lights,
despite the gloom of the day and the dimness of the foyer. His skin was vibrant,
almost feverish, but when Quatermain shook his hand, Gray's grip felt dry and
cool.
    Strolling with unhurried grace after they had all made introductions, their
host led them up a flight of creaking stairs. The wood of the rail was the most
expensive mahogany, polished to a fine luster, no doubt by the sweat of many
servants, though the house seemed quite silent Gold-framed mirrors hung in
prominent positions on the walls, implying that the man often liked to inspect
his general appearance.
    The walls were covered with portraits, all of them originals and no doubt
quite valuable. The people featured on the canvases looked dark or oddly
unhappy, possibly malformed in an indefinable way. Not being an art critic and
unschooled in such things, Quatermain could not pinpoint exactly what was wrong
with all these people. Perhaps the artist had been playing a malicious trick on
his subjects, or