- 7 -

A little while later found them finishing the tea and sandwiches Passepartout provided. They'd eaten quietly, each caught up in his own thoughts. Phileas and Jules avoided speaking or looking at each other at all. Passepartout kept stumbling over what to call them and finally gave up, passing plates and refilling cups in unaccustomed silence. Rebecca's gaze switched back and forth between them and since the others were preoccupied no-one noticed the gleam in her eyes and the occasional twitch of her lips.

"Now," she said, as Passepartout cleared the dishes away. "I suppose we'll have to figure out what to do. That is, assuming you want to get back into your own bodies?" she added with mock innocence.

Verne and Fogg leapt to their feet, side by side, exclaiming simultaneously.

"Rebecca, how could you even ask?"

"Of course we have to change back!"

She began to giggle. "If you could only see your faces! Oh, but of course you can!" she crowed and kept laughing. The two men looked at each other in dismay at her reaction, then they too began to chuckle as the absurdity of the situation sank in. Passepartout, returning from the kitchen, heard and wondered if the shock had been too much for them. Then the front door knocker sounded and he hastened to answer it.

"Your odd sense of humor will be the death of you someday, Rebecca," said Fogg. "We really do need to decide what to do next."

"We need to get back to the machine and reverse this," Jules' French accent sounded decidedly odd in Phileas' voice. "I watched the scientist who was running it and I think I can figure it out."

"The problem is that Count Gregory and his playmates will have cleared out of that warehouse by now," mused Rebecca. "We will track them down - but how long will it take? And just what do we do with you two in the meantime?"

"We'll help look for the League of Darkness of course!" said Jules indignantly. "I admit to feeling a little-" he glanced at his body standing next to him "disoriented, but I can still use my mind!"

"Rebecca isn't questioning our faculties," replied Phileas. "Only consider this - I might possibly be able to masquerade as you here in London, but you can hardly go about as me." His eyes widened suddenly. "Which reminds me. I was about to go out when this started yesterday. I had an appointment with…"

"Lady Barbara Sheridan," announced Passepartout. The others looked up, startled, as a beautiful blonde swept into the room. She headed directly for Verne, who was frozen in place. Phileas began to speak and Rebecca instantly clapped a hand over his mouth. He looked daggers at his manservant, who shrugged and held up his palms in an "I couldn't stop her" gesture.

"My dear Phileas," she cooed, placing a hand on Jules' arm and looking up at him. "I simply had to come and see why you didn't keep our engagement yesterday. Your man says you're not well?" Her eyes traveled his length and she added suggestively, "You look fine to me…"

"I…I - uh …" stammered Jules, looking frantically to the others for help.

Rebecca came to the rescue, dropping her hand from Phileas' mouth and stepping forward. "Poor Phileas," she said as the other woman turned reluctantly toward her. "He has a terrible case of laryngitis. Can hardly speak at all." Then giving in to temptation, she added, "I don't believe you've met our friend, Jules Verne, from France?"

Phileas cast her a glance promising retribution and bowed over the hand Lady Barbara held out. "Mademoiselle," he murmured. She nodded briefly and turned back to Verne.

"You can't speak at all? Well, you won't need to speak tonight." Jules' eyes widened and she added, pouting slightly, "You haven't forgotten the Duchess' ball? You promised to be my escort." Again he looked at Rebecca and Phileas, but Barbara said a little sharply, "Surely you don't need your cousin's permission to go out!" and when he automatically shook his head she said with satisfaction, "Then I will expect you to pick me up promptly at 8." She nodded slightly to Rebecca and Phileas and then swept back out of the room, with Passepartout following to see her out.

Phileas rounded on Jules. "What are you thinking agreeing to go with her?!" he demanded.

"I… I didn't mean to," Jules replied, still looking rather dazed. "She … it just sort of happened." He looked beseechingly at them. "I don't really need to go, do I?"

"Of course you do," snapped Fogg. "You - I -can hardly stand her up twice. It would be unpardonably rude."

"But I won't know anyone!" he protested. "And I don't know how to dance, either! Not - not like you."

Rebecca, bemused, watched the two men arguing. It was amazing to see the differences in them. Jules' body stood quite erect and controlled, while Fogg's body gestured with Verne's youthful abandon. Hearing the two voices arguing in the other's tones and styles made her almost dizzy.

"If you insist that Jules go to the ball tonight," she broke in, "you'll have to coach him enough so that he can get by." She patted each one briefly on the cheek as she headed for the door. "At least you won't have to call anyone by name. You can't speak, remember? I'm sure that Lady Barbara will - enjoy - taking care of you." She cast a mischievous look at Phileas, who seemed torn between exasperation and frustration. "I'm sorry Phileas, but you've always said I have an overdeveloped sense of the ridiculous. If this whole situation isn't ridiculous, what is?"

As she opened the door Phileas called, "Wait, Rebecca, where are you going?"

She turned. "While you are teaching Jules how to dance I am going to find the League of Darkness so we can put you both back where you belong." And with a wave of the hand she was gone.

The two men looked uncomfortably at each other and Phileas groaned. "Well, let's get started," he said in a resigned voice. "Passepartout! Music, if you please."