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blue eyes. Only her hands, which continued to lift the cigarillo to her lips, betrayed her years. The skin on her delicate bones was loose, faintly spotted, the veins prominent. They were the hands of someone else, and there was something both fascinating and vaguely repellent about them.
    Her mother had been inordinately proud of her slim, white hands. Every night she’d slather them in cold cream and wear cotton gloves to bed. Minerva remembered her mother’s hands well. Mrs. Nemo’s hands were very similar. Almost identical. Suspicion began to turn to conviction. Two cousins so similar in looks and age? That couldn’t be mere coincidence.
    She lifted her chin. “Well, Mrs. Nemo. Surely you must remember if you had a cousin called Charlotte who eloped with a penniless engineer? The scandal would have been whispered about for years.”
    Mrs. Nemo started, a curious expression flitting across her for once unguarded face. “Why, I don’t—”
    Her words were cut off as a side door to the parlor opened. A tall, heavy-set man marched in, clutching a stack of cards. At his sudden appearance Mrs. Nemo hastily flipped her half-smoked cigarillo into the fireplace.
    “Isolde, where have you been?” the man demanded in a thick Germanic accent. He stopped short as soon as he caught sight of Minerva. “Excuse me, I did not know you had a visitor.”
    Readjusting his pebble-like spectacles, he subjected Minerva to a cold-eyed survey. His towering presence seemed to cast a pall over the room, not helped by his face which looked as if it had been hacked from a piece of Black Forest wood with a blunt axe, and the thick beard of wiry black hair which did little to soften his features. He was perhaps in his forties, dressed all in black, with an air of barely suppressed impatience.
    Mrs. Nemo turned to him. “Ah, Klaus. May I introduce to you my cousin, Miss Minerva Lambkin.” She fixed Minerva with a penetrating gaze. “Minerva, Herr Klaus Schick.”
    Minerva greeted Herr Schick, who bowed in return and clicked his heels.
    “Your cousin, you say.” He peered at Minerva through his thick lenses. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Fräulein. Tell me, do you share Isolde’s enthusiasm for mathematics?”
    Mathematics? Minerva glanced uncertainly at the other woman before replying, “I was tutored in mathematics, amongst other things, by my father, but I wouldn’t say it’s my forte.”
    “Ah! A forward-thinking man, your father.” Herr Schick stretched his features into a resemblance of a smile. Out of the bushy mass of his beard, his startlingly red gums and sharp teeth appeared, more of a snarl than a smile. Minerva steeled herself not to flinch.
    “Mathematics is the foundation of all sciences, indeed the foundation of all civilizations,” Herr Schick continued, obviously astride his hobby horse. “Without it, the progress of mankind is impossible. I myself have devoted my entire life to the study of mathematics. Why, I have—”
    “Dear Klaus, your enthusiasm is commendable,” Mrs. Nemo smoothly interrupted, “but I fear my cousin will be quite overcome.” She smiled to take the sting out of her words.
    He frowned at her, obviously displeased at being cut off. “I was in the operations room a minute ago, and I saw these on the floor.” He waved the stack of cards, each containing a different, curious pattern of punched holes. “You must be more careful.”
    “Yes, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” In one fluid motion Mrs. Nemo slipped the cards from Herr Schick’s grasp and tucked them into her sleeve.
    The man sniffed at the air, and a dark frown welled up on his brow. “Ach, Isolde, smoking again? How many times have I told you how injurious it is to your health?”
    “I know, but I’m a weak woman.” Mrs. Nemo almost simpered.
    He thumped his fist into his palm, his expression growing thunderous. “I will not have you smoking around my machines. Especially Hedwig. I forbid it. Do you