He was not perturbed. "You love me. I know you do. In your letter —"
"I love Mr. Underwood. He is my husband."
"I shall be your husband."
"It is not possible."
"Anything is possible. When I return, my power rings…"
"It is not what I meant, Mr. Carnelian."
"We could have real children," he said coaxingly.
"Mr. Carnelian!" Her colour had returned at last.
"You are beautiful," he said.
"Please, Mr. Carnelian."
He sighed with pleasure. "Very beautiful."
"I shall have to ask you to leave. As it is, my husband will be returning shortly, from his meeting. I shall have to explain that you are an old friend of my father's — that he met your family when he was a missionary in the South Seas. It will be a lie, and I hate to lie. But it will save both our feelings. Say as little as possible."
"You know that you love me," he announced firmly. "Tell him that. You will leave with me now."
"I will do no such thing! Already there has been difficulty — my appearance in court — the potential scandal. Mr. Underwood is not an over-imaginative man, but he became quite suspicious at one point…"
"Suspicious?"
"Of the story I was forced to concoct, to try to save you, Mr. Carnelian, from the noose."
"Noose of what?"
A note of desperation entered her voice. "How, by the way, did you manage to escape death and come here?"
"I did not know death threatened! I suppose it is always a risk in time travel, though. I came here thanks to the help of a kindly, mechanical old creature called Nurse. I had been trying for some while to find a means of returning to 1896 so that we might be reunited. A happy accident led to a succession of events which finally resulted in my arrival here, in Collins Avenue. Do you know a Mr. Wells?"
"No. Did he claim to know me?"
"No. He was on some business of his father's at the Rose and Crown . He was telling me that he invented time machines. A hobby, I gather. He does not manufacture them, but leaves that to others. I had meant to ask him for the name of a craftsman who could build one for us. It will make our return much easier."
"Mr. Carnelian, I have returned — for good. This is my home."
He looked critically about him. "It is smaller than our home. It has a trace or two more authenticity, I'll grant you, but it lacks a certain life, wouldn't you say? Perhaps I should not mention Mr. Underwood's failings, but it would seem to me he could have given you a little more." He lost interest in the subject and began to feel in his pockets, to see if he had brought something which could be a gift, but all he had was the deceptor-gun Nurse had handed back to him shortly before he had begun his journey. "I know that you like bunches of flowers and water closets and so forth (you see, I have remembered every detail of what you told me) but I forgot to make some flowers, and a water closet, of course, might have proved too bulky an object to carry through time. However," and he had a revelation as he began to tug off his nicest power ring, a ruby, "if you would accept this, I would be more than happy."
"I cannot accept gifts of any sort from you, Mr. Carnelian. How should I explain it to my husband?"
"Explain that I had given you something? Would that be necessary?"
"Oh, please, please go!" She started as she heard a movement in the passage outside. "It is he!" She stared wildly around the room. "Remember," she said in an urgent whisper, "what I told you."
"I will try, but I don't understand…"
The door of the sitting room opened and a man of average height entered.
Mr. Underwood wore a pair of pince-nez upon his nose. His hay-coloured hair was parted firmly in the middle. His high, white collar pressed mercilessly into his pink neck and the knot of his tie was so tight and small as to be almost microscopic. He was unbuttoning his jacket with the air of a man removing protective clothing in an environment which might not be altogether safe. Precisely, he put down a black book he had carried in with him. Precisely, he raised his eyebrows and, with precision, brushed back a hair which had strayed loose from his perfectly symmetrical moustache. "Good evening," he said with only a hint of enquiry. He acknowledged the presence of his wife. "My dear."
"Good evening, Harold. Harold, this is Mr. Carnelian. He has just come from the Antipodes, where his father and mine, as you might recall, were missionaries."
"Carnelian? An unusual name, sir. Yet, as I remember, the same as that felon's who…"
"His brother," said Mrs. Underwood. "I was commiserating with him as you entered."
"A dreadful business," Mr. Underwood glanced at a newspaper on the sideboard with the eye of a hunter who sees his quarry disappearing from bowshot. He sighed and perhaps he smiled. "My wife was very brave, you know, in offering to speak for the defence. Great risk of scandal. I was only telling Mr. Griggs, at the Bible Meeting tonight, that if we all had such courage in following the teachings of our conscience we might come considerably closer to the gates of the Kingdom of Heaven."
"Ha, ha," said Mrs. Underwood. "You are very kind, Harold. I only did my duty."
"We do not all have your fortitude, my dear. She is an admirable woman, is she not, Mr. Carnelian?"
"Without doubt," said Jherek feelingly. He stared with unashamed curiosity at his rival. "The most wonderful woman in your world — in any world, Mr. Underwood."
"Um, yes," said Mr. Underwood. "You are, of course, grateful for the sacrifice she made. Your enthusiasm is understandable…"
"Sacrifice?" Jherek turned to Mrs. Underwood. "I was not aware that this society practised such rites? Whom did you…?"
"You have been away from England a long time, sir?" asked Mr. Underwood.
"This is my second visit," Jherek told him.
"Aha!" Mr. Underwood seemed satisfied by the explanation. "In the darkest depths of the jungle, eh? Bringing light to the savage mind."
"I was in a forest…" said Jherek.
"He only recently heard of his brother's sad fate," broke in Mrs. Underwood.
Jherek could not understand why she kept interrupting them. He felt he was getting on quite well with Mr. Underwood; getting on rather better, in truth, than he had expected.
"Have you offered Mr. Carnelian some refreshment, my dear?" Mr. Underwood's pince-nez glinted as he looked about the room. "We are, needless to say, teetotallers here, Mr. Carnelian. But if you would care for some tea…?"
Mrs. Underwood pulled enthusiastically at a bell-rope. "What a good idea!" she cried.
Maude Emily appeared almost immediately and was instructed to bring tea and biscuits for the three of them. She looked from Mr. Underwood to Jherek Carnelian and back again. The look was significant and cause the faintest expression of panic in Mrs. Underwood's otherwise resolutely set features.
"Tea!" said Jherek as Maude Emily left. "I don't believe I've ever had it. Or did we —"
This time, inadvertently, Mr. Underwood came to his wife's rescue. "Never had tea, what? Oh, then this is a treat you cannot miss! You must spend most of your time away from civilization, Mr. Carnelian."
"From this one, yes."
Mr. Underwood removed his pince-nez. From his pocket he took a large, white handkerchief. He polished the pince-nez. "I take your meaning, sir," he said gravely. "Who are we to accuse the poor savage of his lack of culture, when we live in such Godless times ourselves?"