Jules Verne sat in the library of the Sorbonne. The hour was late and he knew that he should be returning to his cheerless room, but the library was warm and the chair, while not exactly comfortable, was much better than the one that resided under the table he used as a desk. The pile of books beside him did not contain treatises on the law, for which he felt slightly guilty, but instead were the libraries reference volumes on that strange civilization that once ranged over large stretches of the country now known as Mexico, the Aztecs.

The pictures in this latest book showed sketches of devices found by explorers as part of that civilization. Jules was looking specifically for any mention of anything that might be a part of that strange vehicle he and his friends knew as the "Phoenix." This peculiar machine had the ability to move through time the way that Phileas Fogg's dirigible Aurora could sail through the air. He was about to give up on this one as well when he spotted a diagram that looked familiar.

He turned the pages of his own notebook to find his sketch for comparison. "Yes!" he said triumphantly. "They match!" He scribbled the name of the book down next to his drawing. When next he saw Phileas, Passepartout, and Rebecca, he would have something to report.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck prickled. Someone was coming. Someone silent. A shadow fell across his notebook. He turned quickly to look.

Jules jumped to his feet to confront the figure, then felt slightly foolish as he realized its feminine shape. Not that he had not had problems with females of a villainous bent before, but this one was merely standing silently watching him. He could see no signs of guns, knives, or anything else that might be interpreted as a weapon. She was dressed completely in black, including black gloves and a thick black veil. Very tall for a woman, he noted, almost as tall as Phileas. "May I help you?" he said finally.

For a moment there was no reply, then the veil stirred. "You are Monsieur Jules Verne?" The voice was muffled by the veil, and Jules could not guess at her age from the sound.

He nodded, realized she probably could not see too well, and spoke. "Yes, I am." He was still too wary to remember his manners. Lately, strangers had meant trouble and only trouble. "And you are?"

There was a suggestion of a chuckle in the muffled voice. "You could not pronounce my real name. For now, you may address me as Madame Coates. That is close enough to suffice."

Had Jules been a cat, his fur would have started rising. All that black and no real name. He edged away, sidling along the length of the library table. "And, what can I do for you, Madame Coates?" he asked cautiously.

"A small thing. But, important. At least to me. However, the explanation is long and standing is tiring. Will you come with me to my coach?"

 Chapter 3: Leaving the Library

Jules paused, and the woman leaned a bit closer.

“I understand your hesitation, Monsieur Verne, but it is imperative that you come with me immediately.” She glanced around briefly, then murmured, in a voice so soft he could barely catch it, “There are those who would gladly prevent this meeting… very… dark and troublesome individuals – do you understand?”

Jules caught his breath. Could she mean – the League of Darkness? He glanced around the quiet Library, and suddenly made his decision. He caught up his notebook and coat.

“Very well, Madame, I will accompany you.”

The woman made a sound of triumph, and caught Jules by the arm. “This way,” she whispered, "the front entrance is being watched.”

She led him through the dark Library, into the store-rooms in the rear. She indicated a set of double doors.

“This way, Monsieur Verne, through the loading-dock. We must hurry.”

Suddenly Jules was aware of the sound of footsteps coming up behind them, hurrying footsteps, that did not sound like the usual shuffling footfall of the aged Librarian. He hurried after the tall woman, who had already opened a door, and was looking outside.

“It is good,” she whispered, as Jules came up beside her. “We are unobserved.” A large black coach pulled up into the alleyway at the back of the Library. The driver was unrecognizable in a hat, dark coat and scarf. “Very good, here is our transport,” smiled the tall woman.

Swiftly they exited the building, and entered the coach. As they left the alley, Jules, looking out the window, saw two men exit the Library by the door they had just used. It was impossible to recognize them, by the brief glance he had, but he did notice that one of the men wore a scarlet vest beneath his coat.

The coach turned into the street, and Jules turned back to the woman. Was she his abductor, or his rescuer? He opened his mouth to speak, but the woman stopped him with a gesture.

She flung back her veil, to reveal – the handsome face of Phileas Fogg!

“Surprised?” Fogg asked.

"Surprised?" Jules laughed, "Not in the least, Fogg. You forget I live in a part of Paris where many men dress up as women for the stage to put bread on the table. And you, Fogg, for all your gracefulness, do not make make a believable woman."

Phileas shot Jules a nonplussed look, but Verne continued.

"Besides, Fogg," Jules explained, "Your cologne is a dead givaway. You really should.."

"That's enough, Verne," Fogg interrupted. "One of us will have to dress as a convicing woman, Rebecca's life may depend upon it."

With the disguise as failure, Phileas started to peel off the woman's frock to reveal that beneath, he was still fully-dressed in men's street clothes. He repeated with a resigned sigh, "life may depend upon it..."

With those words, shades of panic flashed across Jules' face. "What are you saying? Just yesterday midday she asked me to research the Aztecs of Mexico."

"Forget that, Verne." Phileas was becoming annoyed. "I warn you, if you don't get that nose of yours out of books more often, the world will pass you by. Anyway, as I was saying, Rebecca is in danger. I fear she has been abducted."

"By whom?" Jules was getting impatient.

"I'm not sure," Fogg answered, "but it may be the Turks. Or at least one Turk I know Rebecca has crossed paths with before."

"But, what about Rebecca, where is she?" Jules pressed for more information.

"I have no idea, but she was renting a flat nearby and when I arrived to pay a visit this morning, her rooms were ransacked, and I found this on the front step," Fogg held up an intricate metal ring.

"That's the ring Rebecca got at the Turkish bazaar," Jules said as he grabbed the ring from Phileas.

"As I was saying, I think the Turks are behind it, and we'll need a disguise to break into the Turkish embassy as a cleaning woman." Phileas started explaining an elaborate plan as Jules continued to study the ring.

"Wait," Jules interrupted. "This ring is not Turkish; it's Aztec. Look. This symbol on the ring matches one from the book in the library about Aztecs." Jules showed Phileas Rebecca's ring and how it, indeed, was identical to the sketch he made in his journal.

"Good lord," Phileas said as he tapped on the carriage to signal the driver to change route.

"Go back to the Library," Phileas told the driver. "The front entrance." As the coach turned around, he added to Jules, "We should fetch that book that you made the sketch from. And any others you think might be useful."

"What about the men who were following us?" Jules asked.

Phileas considered for a moment then said with a small sly smile, "You'll need to go in dressed as Madame Coates."

"What?" Jules was indignant. "I'm not wearing a dress!"

"Not even for Rebecca?"

That stoped his protests. Jules sighed and submitted to being put into the garments that Phileas had discarded. He felt ridiculous and suspected he looked worse. He informed Phileas of it.

Phileas tsk'ed impatiently. "You are not posing for an illustration of a fashion journal, Verne. With any luck, no one will see you." Phileas put the hat on Jules's head and arranged the veil.

The world became very black. "I can't see," Jules protested.

"Don't be tiresome. You will be able to see once you get out of the coach." A moment later the coach stopped. Phileas continued. "Go in and get the books. Be quick as you can, but remember to take small steps, like a lady. I'll help you down."

With Phileas's assistance, Jules managed to make it to the street without tripping. The street lamps allowed him to see at least partially through the material of the veil. He lifted the skirt slightly in one gloved hand and minced toward the library door.

The few patrons left in the library at this hour gave him scarcely a glance. He threaded his way to the table where he had been sitting before, wondering how any woman managed to move about without knocking everything over in her path. The skirt was like a living thing that needed to be tamed. He resisted the urge to swat it down, but only just. He was so engrossed in battling his disguise that he was almost upon the table before he saw the figure seated there. He froze.

Jules looked closer at the seated figure.

It was Felix Nader, charismatic and notorious womanizer as well as Jules's long-time drinking companion.

As Felix looked up at him, Jules felt light headed. Hopefully Felix would not see him behind the veil, possibly enabling him to fetch the book unaccosted.

But, unfortunately, that was not what fate had planned for Jules. As the dress-wearing Frenchman attempted to pass by Felix unnotoiced, Jules' foot caught on a raised floor board.

The voluminous material of the dress was no help in allowing Jules to retain his balance. He wobbled and fell into the very lap of Felix Nader.

As Jules settled, the veil flipped up and over his head - revealing his face.

As their eyes met and locked, Felix looked at the dress-clad frenchman sitting squarely and uncomfortably in his lap.

"Jules?" Felix asked, his breath heavy with wine. He was drunk.

Felix smiled happily as he struggled to maintain focus on his friend's face. "I'm used to women falling for me but you?" he paused to enjoy his own joke.

Jules struggle to get free, but his drunk friend easily held him still. Felix had always been stronger than Jules, who was going nowhere.

Felix continued, "I must say, you do look fetching in that gown, dear Jules. But there is no need to dress to impress me."

"Uh..." Jules struggled to raise his natural baritone voice to a more womanly level.

"Excuse me sir," Jules succeeded in a reasonable falsetto impression of a female voice. "But I am not Jules, I am his sister, Julia."

Felix leaned in closer to examine the face of the figure sitting in his lap.

Felix stared. His wobbly gaze moved over Jules. "Sis - sister?" He repeated blankly.

"Yes. His twin sister," answered Jules firmly. "He sent me here to pick up these books for him." He gestured to the books littering the table.

"Sister?" Felix repeated again, and hic-cupped. "'Scuse me, Madum - mu - can I call you Julia? I am a great friend of your brother...." His bloodshot eyes raked Jules' face once more. "You really look jush - just like him!"

Jules affected to blush. "Yes, I know. We - we are twins."

"Twinsh! I never knew it - why didn't Jules tell me about you before? You are verry verrrry pretty, little Julia..." Felix purred.

**Oh, great! That was all I needed - to awaken the tomcat instinct in Felix!** thought Jules in disgust. **I look terrible - is this what they call "blind" drunk?** He tried to get back to his feet, but Felix wouldn't let go of him.

"Such a pretty pretty little Julia...." muttered the drunken Frenchman. "You know Jules and I are very close - almost like brothers! That would make you MY little sister.... give your brother a kiss!" He tried to kiss Jules, who managed to fend him off, and wriggled out of Felix's lap.

Felix jumped up, and stood swaying slightly. Jules began gathering up his books, and Felix snatched at one - the one with the Phoenix drawing in it!- and sat at the edge of the table, grinning foolishly.

"Give me that book!" exclaimed Jules impatiently.

"No no nononono.... you get book when I get kiss," leered Felix.

Jules tried to grab the book, but Felix prevented him, grabbing Jules about the waist and pulling him close. "'s a beautiful name, Julia..... such a pretty girl...."

Felix was totally foxed. Jules recognized the signs. At certain times Felix could become impossibly (and comically) amorous - this was evidently one of those times. The sad thing about his condition, however, was the fact that at this stage Felix generally passed out very, very quickly.

"Please, Monsieur, give me the book." He begged.

"No. I wan' my kiss!" Felix closed his eyes and puckered up.

Jules glared at him in extreme irritation.

**Sorry, Felix** thought Jules, **I MUST get that book!**

He picked up the heaviest book on the table (which was very heavy, indeed) and WHACKED Felix over the head with it.

"OWWWW!!!" Felix howled, jumping back and rubbing his head. He glared at Jules. "Why- why did you hit me?" he demanded.

Jules gulped. He looked down at the book in his hands, which looked hard enough and heavy enough to knock out an elephant. **Felix must have a head like iron!** he thought, irritably.

"I - I was defending my honor, sir!" Jules squeaked. He glanced around, unable to believe no one else had noticed all the noise around this table.

Felix leaned against the table, rubbing his head and moaning. "All I wanted was a little kiss," he grumbled. "I was only teasing.... oh, my head."

Jules saw something then that made his heart nearly freeze in his chest.

Two men.... two large men, were coming this way.... one of them wore a red vest, just like the man who had followed Jules and Phileas out of the library earlier!

Jules thought fast.

"No time to explain," he gasped, and grabbed Felix by the arm. He snatched up the last of the books, and started for the door, dragging Felix in his wake.

"What - Julia what are you doing?" asked Felix in bewilderment.

"We have to get out of here," Jules panted, "those men are following me!"

Felix craned his neck, and saw the two men, who were, indeed, most definately, following them.

"So did you hit them, too?" he asked, as they rounded a corner.

"No, you idiot! Hurry - and, whatever you do, don't drop that book!" Jules could see the door, now, and quickened his pace, still dragging the puzzled Felix.

He was hampered by the skirts, which kept trying to wrap around his legs, nearly tripping him and Felix, as they dashed out the door.