"Next year, their Majesties will celebrate their Jubilee, commemorating twenty-five years of glorious rule," announced Pol. "As part of the celebrations, the Queen has commissioned tiaras to be made for both her and the King. Mancuria has skilled goldsmiths but I've been informed you are the best person to approach if we want top quality gold. We require eight ounces for each, that is sixteen ounces in total. Are you able to fulfill such an order?"

Pol kept his eyes fixed on the Professor, watching for his reaction. Although Maybury appeared flattered by the compliment, hearing the quantity required made him purse his lips. Pol had deliberately chosen such a large amount as a test. If Maybury really could create gold out of brass, then surely such a quantity would be possible. If not, then...Pol prepared to listen to an excuse.

"I'd have to see... that's a large order, Mr Flynt. And expensive. Gold is currently selling at fifty silvers an ounce. Are you prepared to pay that much?"

"Perhaps we could come to some arrangement later, in private," suggested Pol, giving a meaningful look towards Jareth and his companions.

"Perhaps we could," agreed Professor Maybury, with a polite smile.

Gifford had been listening to the exchange, impatiently shuffling his feet, waiting for them to finish.

"But what about the elixir?" he asked. "My father is aged and ailing. Could it be of benefit to him? Restore him to his prime?"

The Professor blinked. "It's possible the Elixir might ease his suffering, but unfortunately, nothing can turn back time. The Elixir works best on healthy people who have not yet begun to feel the damaging effects of aging. It slows the aging process but does not reverse it. And although I have had some success with the current formula, there are still side effects to be worked on."

He held the bottle up to his eye and beamed proudly. "This is my prototype! But it will be some years yet, I expect, before the Elixir might be ready for the public."

"But you said it works. You must have given it to someone to be able to tell," Gifford protested.

The Professor poked himself in the chest with his thumb. "How old do you think I am?"

Everyone stared at him, considering,

"You look like a vigorous man in his forties but given your history, you must be on the wrong side of fifty?" offered Gifford.

"Sixty at my next birthday, sirs and madam!" announced the Professor, delighted with the surprise on their faces. "It's true I have trialled the Elixir, but only on myself and other volunteers, I assure you, all people who know the risks involved." He paused, "Oh, also on Odysseus, of course. He was my initial subject."

"Odysseus?" asked Jareth.

"My octopus. They generally only live up to two years maximum, and Odysseus is well into his sixth year."

Everyone turned to stare at the aquarium. Odysseus stared back from amongst the weed, looking no different at first glance from any other octopus. A complex construction built of shells and stones at the rear of the aquarium provided shelter.

"Odysseus built that all by himself," announced the Professor, proudly. "They're more intelligent than people think. It's only their short life span holding them back."

Jareth in particular, appeared to be fascinated by Odysseus. Perhaps he had never seen a live octopus before, thought Pol.

"So, this is what you've been working on? May I see?" asked Pol, stretching out a hand towards the bottle. "An elixir is it?"

With obvious reluctance, the Professor gave him the bottle. "As I told these other folk, this Elixir came about as a by product of my work on creating an Alchemists' stone. An Elixir that can prolong life is far more interesting in my opinion, than turning brass into gold."

He held out his hand to Pol for the bottle, then drew a gold pocket watch from his apron and frowned at it.

"Now, if you'll all excuse me, I must return to my experiment. Jackson will see you out. And Mr Flynt, if you like to return tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock, we can discuss your request for gold."

Jackson cleared his throat. He'd been standing silently behind them ever since escorting Pol.

"If you'd like to follow me? Gentlemen? Madam?"

"But-" Gifford seemed ready to argue, until Ursula nudged him in the ribs.

"Thank you so much for your time, Professor," she said. "It was most interesting. Perhaps we could make an appointment to see you again, tomorrow, if we have further questions."

"Of course. My pleasure," murmured Maybury, already moving back towards his work bench.

The four visitors followed Jackson to the elevator, Pol taking in as much as he could see on the way.

Jackson ushered them out of the building and was just about to head down the drive toward the gatehouse, when he saw Mason, waiting for him.

"We have a problem," Mason said. "The front gate is locked, as it should be," he added with a sideways glance at Pol, "but there's no sign of Hobbs."

"Something must be wrong. We were just on our way to the gatehouse," Jackson informed him. "You'd better come with us."

He set off at a brisk pace, the visitors trailing behind. Jareth raised an eyebrow at Pol, who gave a small shrug. He had no more idea than any of them what had happened to Hobbs.

Jackson unlocked the gatehouse door and entered. He froze for a moment, studying the uniform draped over the chair. Gingerly, he picked it up by the shoulders and gave a gentle shake. A cloud of dust fell to the floor.

"Frack!"

Pol was the first to jump to conclusions.

"One of those side effects the Professor mentioned, I assume?"