A fountain of blood gushed from the creature's shattered chest, its limbs twitched spasmodically and then it was still.
The Doctor turned to Serena, who stood statue-like, frozen with fear, staring down at the remains of the vampire. He put an arm around her shoulders. 'It's all right, it's over.'
She shuddered. 'Is it dead?'
The Doctor nodded. 'The poor thing was never really alive.'
'I'm sorry, Doctor, I should have tried to help. I was so frightened I couldn't move.'
Awkwardly the Doctor patted her on the back. 'That's all right, I understand. For a moment I was pretty paralysed myself.'
Not many things frighten Time Lords but vampires do.
The legends of the long-ago vampire wars, when they fought the Great Vampire's swarming hordes with bow-ships, had implanted an atavistic fear.
'It had you by the throat, Doctor, then it let go,' said Serena wonderingly.
'I wondered about that myself...yes, of course!' The Doctor leaned forward, breathed gently into Serena's face and she smelt the spicy tang.
'It was the garlic!' said the Doctor. 'The stuff you objected to at the reception. Vampires hate it for some reason. I was saved by Napoleon's chicken pies!'
The Doctor began singing softly to himself. 'Who ate all the pies? You ate all the pies!' He smiled. 'And a good thing too, in this case.'
Serena was staring down at the vampire's body. 'Look, Doctor!'
The twisted, bloodstained figure was slowly fading away.
Seconds later it had completely disappeared, leaving only the bloodstained whip hilt on the ground.
'I thought they were supposed to crumble away into dust,'
said Serena.
'So they do, usually,' said the Doctor thoughtfully. 'I think there was something very peculiar about this particular vampire. Come along, Serena, let's head back to the palace.'
Serena looked round at the dark surrounding woods. A night breeze rustled the leaves and, to her still-fearful imagination, the trees seemed to be closing in on them.
'Suppose there are more vampires in the forest?'
'I doubt it. I think this vampire was a specially imported one-off! Transported here at great expense, especially for our benefit. Anyway, no need to worry, Serena.'
'There isn't?'
'If any more vampires turn up, I'll just breathe on them!'
'I wish I'd taken your advice at the reception, Doctor.'
'What advice?'
'To try a few of those pies. Just keep breathing on me, will you?'
As they trudged back towards the palace, its lights still visible through the trees, the Doctor was wondering how the importing had been done. It was remotely possible that there was a colony of vampires somewhere in Paris, and that his opponents had some means of controlling them.
The only other possible explanation was so horrifying that he didn't really want to think about it...
When they climbed wearily up the palace steps, they were fortunate enough to find Captain Charles standing at the top, supervising the last of the departing guests. He surveyed their bedraggled appearance with amazement.
'Doctor, Lady Serena! What's happened to you?'
'Our coach driver tried to rob us,' said the Doctor. 'I fought him off, but he drove away and left us stranded.'
Captain Charles was shocked. 'On the Emperor's very doorstep! Napoleon will be furious when he hears about this.
He'll have the villain hunted down and guillotined! Old Fouche is a nasty, creepy cadaverous little swine, but by God he's efficient! Can you give me a description, Doctor?'
'We didn't really get a good look at him,' said the Doctor hurriedly. 'Don't worry about finding him, he'll be miles away by now. But I should be very grateful if you could provide us with some more reliable transport.'
'I'll see to it at once, Doctor. And please accept my apologies. I should have arranged transport for you myself. I would have thought of it, but in this crush, with all these guests...Aha!'
An empty coach rattled by, presumably returning to the imperial stables. Captain Charles raised his hand, signalling the coachman to stop.
'One more trip for you, Rastignac. This lady and gentleman are the Emperor's honoured guests. See that they have a safe and comfortable journey home. Don't look so sulky you old rogue, you'll be well rewarded.'
The burly, heavily moustached driver touched his hat-brim with his whip. 'Right you are, Captain,' he wheezed.
'One of the Emperor's Old Guard,' whispered Captain Charles. 'Musket ball through the lungs at Marengo. You'll be all right with him.'
He handed them into the coach, which was small but luxurious, with a golden bee emblazoned on the door.
The driver cracked his whip and they rattled away.
From the top of the steps the Countess watched him go.
'Ever resourceful, Doctor,' she murmured. 'Something else will have to be arranged...'
The Doctor and Serena both slept late the next morning.
They were drinking coffee at a table in the rose garden behind the house when a smartly uniformed courier arrived with an invitation.
The Doctor studied it. 'It's from Mr Fulton,' he said.
'Apparently he's got the latest model of his submersible vessel in a workshop pavilion somewhere behind the Tuileries Palace. He's inviting me "as a fellow scientist" to take a look at it. He'd like us to arrive at precisely three o'clock. You're invited too.'
He turned to the courier, who was waiting patiently for a reply.
'Tell Mr Fulton we'd be delighted to attend.'
The courier bowed and withdrew.
'Is that wise?' said Serena.
'Why not? Mr Fulton is a very interesting fellow.'
'He also seems to be a close associate of the Countess. It could be a trap.'
'Of course,' said the Doctor. 'But you can learn a lot from traps.'
'Even so, Doctor...'
'I think the Countess will lay low for a bit. I don't think she'd actually dare to attack us on imperial premises. And I don't think Fulton wants to harm me. After all, we're fellow scientists!'
Fulton's workshop turned out to be a converted stables at the back of the Tuileries Palace. Two sentries guarded the door.
It was a mild spring afternoon as the Doctor's carriage, a smart berline hired for the occasion, deposited them outside and Fulton came hurrying out to greet them.
'Doctor, Lady Serena, good to see you.'
'Good of you to invite us,' said the Doctor, with equal cordiality.
Fulton pushed open the stable doors and ushered them inside. They found themselves in a vast stone-flagged room, lit by an enormous skylight. The stable furniture had been removed and workbenches loaded with tools lined the walls to their left and right. At the rear was a small forge and behind it a vast straggling pile of crates, boxes and barrels.
Dominating the room was a set of heavy trestles. Resting upon them was a huge cigar-shaped object, covered with a massive tarpaulin.
'Well there she is,' said Fulton proudly. 'The latest model.
We had some sea-trials with an earlier model, but the Emperor wasn't impressed. So I came up with this version, lots of improvements. I'm taking her down to Boulogne for sea-trials soon, but the Countess thought it would be safer for me to work on her here.'
'I should have thought Boulogne was pretty safe,' said the Doctor. 'You'll be surrounded by the Emperor's armies.'
'Apparently we'll also be surrounded by English spies,'
said Fulton. 'Don't want the British getting wind of her or trying to blow her up.'
'I gather the Countess is your associate in this venture?'
asked Serena.
'She's been invaluable, especially financially,' said Fulton.
'It's a hell of a job getting any actual money out of His Imperial Majesty. He provides facilities but precious little cash.'
'Is the Countess providing technical help as well?' asked the Doctor casually.
'Well, some,' admitted Fulton. 'She's quite a scientist herself.'
'Won't she mind us coming here like this?' asked Serena.
'She and the Doctor are old rivals.'
'So I gather,' said Fulton. 'When she learned about our little chat last night she was pretty mad. I guess she must have had a change of heart overnight. She sent me a message early this morning and suggested I ask you both.'
'How very kind,' said Serena. She looked hard at the Doctor, who shrugged.
'Is she coming herself?' he asked.
'Maybe later,' said Fulton. 'Well, let's take a look at my Nautilus Nautilus.'
He went over to the trestles, unfastened the ropes and, helped by the Doctor, pulled away the heavy tarpaulin. The Nautilus Nautilus was revealed. was revealed.
She was an impressive sight, thought the Doctor, especially for the year 1805. She was a copper-coloured, cigar-shaped cylinder about twenty feet long. A smaller half-cylinder of almost equal length was attached to the bottom of the hull forming a kind of keel. There was a small domed conning tower with a glass-covered porthole and a flat horizontal rudder.
It didn't look antiquated and comic at all, thought the Doctor. It looked sleek and streamlined and modern. And deadly.
They walked around it admiringly, as the Doctor fired questions. He gently rapped the sides. 'Construction?'
'Copper sheets over iron ribs. She has to be strong to withstand the pressure.'
'How does she submerge?'
'She's fitted with ballast tanks. She holds enough air to stay down three hours and that's with a one-man crew, burning two candles. She'll carry up to three men at a pinch, but that cuts down the submerged time.' He nodded to a row of cylinders against one wall. 'I'm planning to add a tank of compressed air to increase her underwater range when there's a bigger crew.'
'How does it move?' asked Serena.
Fulton clambered onto the trestles, pulled on a set of guyropes and a fan-shaped sail rose slowly above the hull.