"-and prevailed upon them to produce the real Paganinicon. Fortunately, it was close to hand: they had hidden it in a small hunting lodge on Lord Bendray's estate. Going thither, they were surprised to find the Paganinicon – myself, that is – activated, walking about and capable of conversing. Scape, in his previous attentions to my person, had left my main and various auxiliary springs fully wound; he was unaware that all that was then necessary to set me into motion was to bring the adjunct brain – that's you, my dear Dower – within a few miles of the Aetheric Regulator contained within me. If Scape had been at my side, rather than riding in the carriage with you as it approached Bendray Hall, he would have seen this culmination of all the care he had lavished upon my poor, neglected workings – he really is very clever about mechanical matters; in a rough, untutored way, of course. It being a matter… shall we say… close to my heart, I, of course, was able to enlighten everyone in the party – Scape, Miss McThane, and the good Mrs Wroth" – he patted her hand, and exchanged smiles with her again "about a good deal of the mysteries surrounding this sudden animation of what had been silent and unstirring metal. There was little time for explanations, however, before we were joined by another bearing quite distressing news about your predicament, Dower." The Paganinicon looked at me, raising his eyebrows as if expecting me to supply the next word. "You know? Your friend – the swarthy fellow-"
I was still struggling with the revelations made so far. "You mean – the Brown Leather Man?"
"Is that what you call him?" the Paganinicon shrugged. "Suits him well enough, I suppose. I rather fancy he calls himself something else; unfortunately, the urgency of the situation precluded lengthy introductions. No matter; it seems the fellow had surreptitiously witnessed many of this night's events; I imagine that rather dusky hue of his is rather convenient for skulking about and spying on people. He informed us that you were in danger of being captured and killed by one or more of the various factions whose ire you seem to have aroused. This prospect was viewed with alarm, especially by me: I have more than a brotherly fondness for you, my dear Dower. Your death – more particularly the death of your brain, which serves as my own, may I remind you – would naturally put an end to my functioning as well. Thus plans were hastily drawn up, to ensure your continuing safety. By that time, the siege of Bendray Hall by the Godly Army had metamorphosed into the general pursuit of your person; the way was clear for Mrs Wroth and myself to return to the Hall, there to commandeer a carriage and driver, and set out for the rendez-vous which your friend, the Brown Leather Man, had appointed. Scape and Miss McThane have meanwhile gone ahead to the nearest seaport in order to arrange passage for you – just to some place where you'll be safe until things settle down a bit." The Paganinicon sat back, spreading his hands in a gesture of satisfaction. "There – you see? All perfectly simple; everything is made comprehensible, given enough time."
I nearly retorted that the explanations he had given were neither simple nor comprehensible, but held my tongue instead. Having recovered somewhat from the exertions of my flight across the fens, I could appreciate that I was out of danger, at least for the time being. And whatever motivations my rescuers had for their actions, they did not seem to be intent upon my immediate death. The results of my own efforts at negotiating a course across the world's perilous chessboard had met with more disaster than success; I was content to be the pawn of others for a while, as long as it appeared I was being shuffled to some obscure file far from the furious checks at the board's centre.
(Thus, having failed our trust in ourselves, we abandon that trust to others – to our cost!)
I looked at the two smiling faces across from me, the one so uncannily like my own. "I take it, then," I said, "that you are coming along with me… to whatever destination Scape has arranged?"
"'Coming along?' My dear Dower." The Paganinicon shook his head. "I see no need for that. After all, it's your skin for which all these people are out. I have no fear of them; I may look like you, but my accomplishments and ability will soon prove that I am another person entire." He gestured dramatically. "I have a great career ahead of me – one too long delayed."
Mrs Wroth levelled a more intent gaze at him. "That's not all that's been delayed too long."
"Yes, well – that, too." He shrugged. "Pity about that Guarnerius you smashed up back at Bendray Hall, Dower. Soon after I arrive in London, the first order of business will be to scout up a worthy-enough instrument; a decent Strad or some such, I think."
Her eyes narrowed to slits as she looked at him. "I'll get you such a Stradivarius," she whispered huskily. "You wait and see."
A thought struck me. "But if I'm sailing about somewhere, or lodged in some distant place… and you're in London – some considerable distance away – won't that rather interfere with your functioning? Being at such a remove from my brain, and all?"
"No, no; your concern for me is really very touching, but it's no matter for concern. The medium – the aether – in which the fine vibrations of your brain are conducted to me, thereby providing a base for my own actions and reactions to be modified, is a medium completely non-spatial in nature; it exists in another dimension entirely. Rather a difficult notion to grasp at first, but I assure you it's true. Your proximity to me was only necessary to set my workings into motion; but as long as you remain alive and no catastrophe upsets the remarkably placid operations of your brain – and I honestly can't imagine what could, given your rather stolid nature; all this fright and chasing about has produced no more than a passing ripple on the surface of a deep pond, as my own undisturbed operation demonstrates – then you could be on the other side of the moon, for all the difference it makes."
A salt breeze filtered into the carriage, signalling our arrival at the seacoast. Looking from the window, I could see the first light of dawn outlining the ocean's dull iron. A few boats, insignificant fishing craft, bobbed alongside a sagging wharf. A sailing ship of considerable bulk, incongruous among these sprats, was stationed in the deep water at the wharf's end; from its deck, a silhouetted figure had spotted the carriage and beckoned us to approach.
The Paganinicon instructed the driver to halt. "This is where we part company, my dear Dower. Do take care of yourself, for your sake as well as mine. When at last things settle down and you get back to London – a few months from now, a year; who knows? The public's moods are so capricious – at any rate, do look me up. If I'm not touring the Continent, that is."
He pushed open the door, and I stepped out. "Au revoir," he called as the driver whipped the horses into motion. The carriage wheeled about and headed back the way it had come. Behind me, I heard someone calling my name…
"Ahoy, Dower!" On the ship's gangway, Scape raised his arms in an exuberant greeting. Even from the landbound end of the wharf, I could clearly see how pleased he was with himself.
The blue lenses fastened on me as I came up the slanted plank. "Hey, catch this." Leaning over the rail, he gestured at the rest of the ship. "Pretty great, huh?"
Miss McThane was with him. Standing on the gently rocking deck, I looked from the two of them to the expanse of furled sail and crossing lines above our heads. "What ship is this?"
"Belongs to Sir Charles – just one of the little advantages of being rich, you know. Got a full crew aboard, supplies, the whole shot – we're just about ready to hoist anchor and go cruising."
"All right." Miss McThane sang and swayed against him, bumping him with one hip: "Won'tcha let me take you on a sea cruise."
Disconcerted as I was by the woman's eccentric behaviour, I was nevertheless pleasantly surprised by the sound of another voice calling my name. "Mr Dower, sir! You are alive!"