"Amelia!"
"You are quite naked, my dear." She reached the door and sped through. "I love you, Jherek. I love you! I will see you in the morning. Goodnight."
He sat down heavily upon his bed, scratching his knee and shaking his head, but he was smiling (if somewhat bewilderedly) when he stretched out again and pulled the sheets over himself and fell into a deep sleep.
In the morning they breakfasted and were happy. Both had slept well, both chose to discuss little of the previous day's events, although Amelia expressed an intention of trying to discover if, in any museum in any of the old cities, there might be preserved seeds which she could plant. Jherek thought that there were one or two likely places where they could look.
Shortly after breakfast, as she boiled water to wash the dishes, two visitors arrived. The Iron Orchid — in a surprisingly restrained gown of dark blue silk against which living butterflies beat dark blue wings, upon the arm of the bearded time-traveller, dressed, as always, in his Norfolk jacket and tweed plus-fours. That Amelia had set more than one fashion was obvious from the way in which the Iron Orchid demurely knocked upon the door and waited until Amelia, her hands quickly dried, her sleeves rolled down, answered it and smilingly admitted them to the sitting room.
"I am so sorry, Iron Orchid, for yesterday's rudeness," began Amelia. "An instinct, I suppose. I was worried about Harold. We visited the city and were longer than we expected."
The Iron Orchid listened patiently and with a hint of sardonic pleasure while Amelia's apologies ran their course.
"My dear, I told them nothing. Your mysterious disappearance only served to give greater spice to a wonderful creation. I see that you have not yet disseminated it…"
"Oh, dear. I shall do so presently."
"Perhaps it should be left? A kind of monument?"
"So close to the garden? I think not."
"Your taste cannot be questioned. I merely suggested…"
"You are very kind. Would you care for some tea?"
"Excellent!" said the time-traveller. He appeared to be in fine spirits. He rubbed his hands together. "A decent cup of English tea would be most welcome, dear lady."
They waited expectantly.
"I will put the kettle on."
"The kettle?" The Iron Orchid locked questioningly at the time-traveller.
"The kettle!" he breathed, as if the words had mystic significance for him. "Splendid."
In poorly disguised astonishment (for she had expected the tea to appear immediately), the Iron Orchid watched Amelia Underwood leave for the kitchen, just as Jherek came in.
"You are looking less pensive today, my boy."
"Most maternal of blossoms, I am completely without care! What a pleasure it is to see you. Good morning to you, sir."
"Morning," said the time-traveller. "I am staying, presently, at Castle Canaria. The Iron Orchid suggested that I accompany her. I hope that I do not intrude."
"Of course not." Jherek was still in a woollen dressing gown and striped nightshirt, with slippers on his feet. He signed for them to sit down and sat, himself, upon a nearby sofa. "Do the repairs to your craft progress well?"
"Very well! I must say — for all my reservations — your Lord Jagged — your father, that is — is a brilliant scientist. Understood exactly what was needed. We're virtually finished and just in time it seems — just waiting to test a setting. That's why I decided to drop over. I might not have another chance to say goodbye."
"You will continue your travels?"
"It has become a quest. Captain Bastable was able to give me a few tips, and if I get the chance to return to the Palaeozoic, where they have a base, I gather they'll be able to supply me with further information. I need, you see, to get back onto a particular track." The time-traveller began to describe complicated theories, most of them completely hypothetical and absolutely meaningless to Jherek. But he listened politely until Amelia returned with the tea-tray; he rose to take it from her and place it upon the low table between them and their guests.
"We have yet to solve the servant problem," Amelia told them as she poured the tea.
The Iron Orchid, to her credit, entered into the spirit of the thing. "Jherek had — what did you call them, dear? — serbos."
"Servos — mechanical servants in human form. But they were antiques, or at least of antique design."
"Well," said Amelia, handing out the cups, "we shall manage for a while, at any rate. All we had in Bromley was a maid and a cook (and she did not live in) and we coped perfectly." As the time-traveller accepted his cup she said, "It would be such a pleasure for me to be able to return your kindness to us, when we were stranded. You must, at least, come to dinner soon."
He was cheered as well as embarrassed. "Thank you, dear lady. You cannot, I think, realize what a great consolation it is for me to know that there are, in this peculiar world, at least a few people who maintain the old-fashioned virtues. However, as I was saying to Mr. Carnelian, I shall soon be on my way."
"Today?"
"Tomorrow morning, probably. It must be so, I fear, for Lord Jagged completes the circuit shortly and then it will be impossible either to leave or to return to this world."
She sipped and reflected. "So the last brick of the gaol is about to be cemented in place," she murmured.
"It is unwise to see it in those terms, dear lady. If you are to spend eternity here…"
She drew a deep breath. Jherek was disturbed to see something of a return to yesterday's manner.
"Let us discuss a different topic," he suggested brightly.
"It is scarcely a prison, dear," said the Iron Orchid pinching, with finger and thumb, the wing of a straying butterfly tickling her chin.
"Some would call it Heaven," tactfully said the time-traveller. "Nirvana."
"Oh, true. Fitting reward for a dead Hindu! But I am a live Christian." Her smile was an attempt to break the atmosphere.
"Speaking of that," said the time-traveller, "I am able to do one last favour for Lord Jagged, and for you all, I dare say." He laughed.
"What is it?" said Jherek, grateful for the change of subject.
"I have agreed to take Mr. Underwood and the policemen back to 1896 before I continue on my journey."
"What?" It was almost a breath from Amelia, slow and soft.
"You probably do not know that something happened in the city quite recently. They believe that God appeared to them and are anxious to return so that they might…"
"We have seen them," Jherek told him anxiously.
"Aha. Well, since I was responsible for bringing them here, when Lord Jagged suggested that I take them back —"
"Jagged!" exclaimed Amelia Underwood rising. "This is all his plot."
"Why should Jagged 'plot'?" The Iron Orchid was astonished. "What interest has he in your husband, my dear?"
"None, save where it concerns me." She turned upon the disconcerted Jherek. "And you, Jherek. It is an extension of his schemings on our behalf. He thinks that with Harold gone I shall be willing to —" she paused. "To accept you."
"But he has abandoned his plans for us. He told us as much, Amelia."
"In one respect."
Mildly the Orchid interjected. "I think you suspect Jagged of too much cunning, Amelia. After all, he is much involved with a somewhat larger scheme. Why should he behave as you suggest?"
"It is the only question for which I have no ready answer." Amelia raised fingers to her forehead.
A knock at the front door. Jherek sprang to answer, glad of respite, but it was his father, all in voluminous lemon, his features composed and amused. "Good morning to you, my boy."