'We have survived numerous moves from book to book within the Well. Now, as you see, I am marooned here. The voltaic piles, the source of the Nautilus's power, are almost worn out. The sodium, which I extract from sea water, is exhausted. For many years I have been the subject of a preservation order, but preservation without expenditure is worthless. The Nautilus needs only a few thousand words to be as good as new – yet I have no money, nor influence. I am only an eccentric loner awaiting a sequel that I fear will never be written.'

'I … I wish I could do something,' I replied, 'but Jurisfiction only keeps fiction in order – it does not dictate policy, nor choose which books are to be written. You have, I trust, advertised yourself?'

'For many years. Here, see for yourself.'

He handed me a copy of The Word. The 'Situations Sought' page took up half the newspaper and I read where Nemo pointed it out.

Eccentric and autocratic sea dog (ex-Verne) requires exciting and morally superior tale to exercise knowledge of the oceans and discuss man's place t within his enviornment. French spoken, has own submarine. Apply: Captain Nemo, c/o Caversham Heights, sub-basement six, WOLP.

'Every week for over a century,' he grumbled, 'but not one sensible offer.'

I doubted that his idea of a sensible offer would be like anyone else's – 20,000 Leagues under the Sea was a tough act to follow.

'You have read Caversham Heights'?' he asked.

I nodded.

'Then you will know that the scrapping is not only inevitable, but quite necessary. When the book goes to the breaker's yard, I will not apply for a transfer. The Nautilus, and I too, will be broken down into text – and long have I wished for it!'

He scowled at the floor and poured another cup of coffee.

'Unless,' he added, suddenly perking up, 'you thought I should have the advert in a box, with a picture? It costs extra but it might make it more eye catching.'

'It is worth a try, of course,' I replied.

Nemo rose to his feet and went below without another word. I thought he might return, but after twenty minutes had elapsed I decided to go home. I was ambling back along the lakeside path when I got a call from Havisham on the footnoterphone.12

'As always, Miss Havisham.'13

'Perkins must be annoyed about that,' I said, thinking, what with grammasites, a minotaur, Yahoos and a million or two rabbits, life in the bestiary must be something of a handful.14

'I'm on my way.' ,

17

Minotaur trouble