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speak of. If the world knew what kind of man Frankenstein was – what he had done – then he would be arrested, and I do not want that. He must remain free.’
    ‘Frankenstein?’ said Billy. ‘That’s one of the men?’
    Creecher nodded.
    ‘Victor Frankenstein,’ said the giant. ‘The taller one. The other is Henry Clerval. He is harmless. It is Frankenstein you must watch closely.’
    ‘All right, then,’ said Billy.
    ‘So tomorrow you will follow them?’
    Billy nodded.
    ‘Bon,’ said Creecher with a smile.
    Yeah, thought Billy. I’ll follow them for you, you murderous freak, until I can figure out some way of getting rid of you.

CHAPTER VII.
    Billy’s stomach flipped nervously as he stepped through the door. A place like the British Museum presented lots of opportunities for a thief and there were certainly plenty of wealthy and distracted people milling about.
    But Billy had always made a point of never working inside. Montagu House was congested, and Billy needed a clear escape route should he be spotted. There were just too many unknowables here.
    He had been on the trail of Frankenstein and Clerval for two days now. That morning he had followed them from their lodgings and now shadowed them as they wandered round the museum.
    The two men seemed to find something called the Rosetta Stone inexhaustibly fascinating, but Billy could see nothing of interest in this great slab etched with rows of chisel marks. Educated people were impressed by the strangest things, he mused.
    The foreigners moved on to studying a room full of broken sculptures. Billy listened to someone nearby and heard that the stone figures came from Greece and were very old.
    He was embarrassed at first. Many of the figures were naked and, even when there was clothing, it clung to the bodies as though it were wet, revealing the form beneath.
    Two fashionably dressed young women were standing in front of a scene showing a fight going on between a man and a creature half man and half horse. On closer inspection Billy saw that the women were not that much older than him. Their accents betrayed them as out-of-towners, up in London for the season.
    ‘So I was, as it were, “How dare you talk to me in that insolent fashion!” And she was, as it were, “I’m very sorry, madam, it won’t happen again.” But they always say that, don’t they? And then it does happen again and they are all, “I’m so sorry, madam,” all over again. I told Mama. You can’t be soft with servants. They only take advantage.’
    ‘Oh my stars. You are so right, sister.’
    ‘Incontestably.’
    Billy shook his head. Rich girls. Some of them were pretty enough, until they opened their mouths. What was the point of all that education if at the end of it you came out speaking such drivel? He wanted to knock their silly bonnets off.
    Frankenstein and Clerval had moved on and Billy followed them. He found them standing in front of a huge statue. Or rather it was a fragment of a huge statue brought back from Egypt.
    The statue was of an ancient king of those parts. He was called Rameses II. He was stripped to the waist and wore an odd kind of headdress.His head had a sizeable piece broken from it, as if a great sword had sliced from crown to ear. His face was intact, smooth and handsome in a girlish way, with a strange scabbard-like beard stuck to his jaw. He seemed to be quietly pleased with something.
    Billy could see that this was no bust. This was the remains of a whole figure, snapped at the waist, one arm taken off at the shoulder, another at the elbow. There was a hole near his right shoulder. A great crack arced up through his chest, as though a surgeon had opened him up.
    Billy wondered who this strange king was and what he was like. He’d heard of Egypt – England had fought the French there – but this was from ancient times. How different he seemed to mad King George and his odious son, the Prince Regent. But perhaps he was just as bad as they were.