“You’re a monster,” said Nat matter-of-factly, “and you stink.”

Scale threw his head back and howled. When he had finished, Nat realized it was his way of laughing.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” sneered Scale.

“How could you do this?” shouted Nat. “Woody’s clan is wiped out because of you; they were the noblest creatu —”

“Save your venom for the real plunderers of noble creatures,” snarled Scale. “We are creators here at Proteus, not destroyers. You want to talk about wiping out noble creatures? There are only one hundred and twenty-three tigers left in Nepal, thanks to common human poachers. Orangutans are now only found in Borneo and Sumatra, due to man’s disregard for their habitat.”

“How can you say you’re … you’re creators?” asked Woody in disbelief. “Look at all these dead bodies!”

“Unfortunate,” said Scale sorrowfully. “I admit, in the early days of Dr. Gruber’s appointment, we had our disappointments. You can’t have failed to notice my looks have … ah … suffered since some of the early experimentation. The sacrifices I have made are quite beyond the call of duty.”

“So why did you do it?” asked Nat, interested despite himself.

Scale looked surprised. “Why? I would have thought that was obvious. Power, my dears. Power and riches beyond your wildest imaginings.”

“What about Iona and Professor Paxton?” asked Woody suddenly. “Are they floating in pods somewhere? Have you killed them, too?”

Scale looked hurt again. “No, of course not,” he said. “They are enjoying a reunion as we speak; they are perfectly well. But, boys, boys, boys. How we chatter. The night is still young, and Dr. Gruber is keen to meet you before daybreak.”

He turned to the door; Nat and Woody hesitated.

“Come on!” cried Scale. “Walk this way. I’ll show you to your room.”

Nat swallowed another hysterical giggle as he watched Woody follow Scale. Even though they were in big trouble, Woody stuck out his bottom and made his legs go all bandy. In an attempt to cheer up his friend, he’d perfectly imitated Scale’s unfortunate gait.

Lucas Scale led Nat and Woody through the labyrinthine bowels of Helleborine Halt, twisting and turning as if in a great hurry. There was a smell here that Nat recognized; it must have been what Woody meant when he said he could smell Helleborine Halt. It was the kind of smell that catches in the back of your throat. The kind of whiff, he thought, that you smell in the lion house at the zoo.

The noises were zoolike, too: the sound of restless animals pacing up and down; angry growls and feral grunts. Nat couldn’t even bring himself to imagine what creatures were housed in these cells. As if Scale read his mind, he stopped outside one of them. The front of the cell was like an old-fashioned jail, reinforced with steel bars.

“Here.” He winked an orange eye. “I believe you are acquainted.”