They both looked at him in mild astonishment.
"I have my own preferences," she said, "I know ." She returned her full attention to Jherek, saying huskily: "But there — you are so much younger than I."
"Is that so?" Jherek became interested. He had understood that, through no choice of their own, these people had extremely short life-spans. "Well, then, you must be at least five hundred years old."
Donna Isobella's eyes blazed. Her lip curled. She made to speak and then changed her mind. She turned her back on him. She laughed rather harshly at something Bishop Castle murmured.
He noticed, on the far side of the room, a shadowy figure whom he did not recognize. It was clad in some kind of armour, and stared about in consternation.
Lord Jagged had noticed it, too. He drew his fine brows together and puffed thoughtfully on his cigarette.
The figure disappeared almost immediately.
"Who was that, Jagged?" enquired Jherek.
"A warrior from a period six or seven centuries before this one," said Mr. Jackson. "I can't be mistaken. And look!"
A small child, the outline of her body flickering a little, stared about her in wonderment, but was there for only a matter of seconds before she had vanished.
"Seventeenth century," said Jagged. "I am beginning to take Brannart's warnings seriously. The whole fabric of Time is in danger of diffusing completely. I should have been more careful. Ah, well…"
"You seem concerned, Jagged."
"I have reason to be," said Lord Jagged. "You had better collect Mrs. Underwood immediately."
"She is singing, at present, with Mr. Underwood."
"So I see."
There came a chorus of whistlings from the street and into the restaurant burst a score of uniformed policemen, their truncheons drawn. The leader presented himself to Inspector Springer and saluted. "Sergeant Sherwood, sir."
"In the nick of time, sergeant." Inspector Springer rearranged his ulster and placed his battered bowler hard upon his head. "We're cleaning up a den of forrin' anarchists 'ere, as you can observe. Are the vans outside?"
"Plenty of vans for this little lot, inspector." Sergeant Sherwood cast a loathing eye upon the assembled company. "I allus knew wot they said abart this place was true!"
"An' worse. I mean, look at 'em." Inspector Springer indicated the Lat who had given up the fight and were sitting sulkily in a corner, nursing their bruises. "You'd 'ardly believe they was yuman, would yer?"
"Ugly customers, right enough. Not English, o' course."
"Nar! Latvians. Typical Eastern European political troublemakers. They breed 'em like that over there."
"Wot? special?"
"It's somefin' to do with the diet," said Inspector Springer. "Curds an' so forth."
"Oo-er. I wouldn't 'ave your job, inspector, for a million quid."
"It can be nasty," agreed Inspector Springer. "Right. Let's get 'em all rounded up."
"The — um — painted women, too?"
"By all means, sergeant. Every one of 'em. We'll sort out 'oo's 'oo at the Yard."
Mr. Jackson had been listening to this conversation and now he turned to Jherek with a shrug. "I fear there is little we can do for the moment," he said philosophically. "We are all about to be carried off to prison."
"Oh, really?" Jherek cheered up.
"It will be nice to be a prisoner again," he said nostalgically. He identified gaol with one of his happiest moments, when Mr. Griffiths, the lawyer, had read to him Mrs. Amelia Underwood's declaration of her love. "Perhaps they'll be able to furnish us with a time machine, too."
Lord Jagged did not seem quite as cheerful as Jherek. "We shall be needing one very much," he said, "if our problems are not to be further complicated. In more ways than one, I would say, time is running out."
There was a sudden click and Jherek Carnelian looked down at his wrists. A newly arrived constable had snapped a pair of handcuffs on them. " 'Ope you like the bracelets, sir," said the constable with a sardonic grin.
Jherek laughed and held them up. "Oh, they're beautiful!" he said.
In a general babble of excited merriment, the party filed out of the Cafe Royale and into the waiting police vans. Only Mr. Harris was left behind. His snores had taken on a puzzled, melancholy note.
The Iron Orchid giggled. "I suppose this happens to you all the time," she said to Donna Isobella, whose lips seemed a little set. "It's a rare treat for me, however."
Mr. Underwood beamed at the policemen as Mrs. Underwood led him through the doors.
"Be of good cheer," he told Inspector Springer, "for the Lord is with us."
Inspector Springer shook his head and sighed. "Speak for yourself," he said. He was not looking forward to the night ahead.
18. To the Time Machine, At Last!
"The 'Ome Secretary," declared Inspector Springer importantly, " 'as bin informed." He stood with his fists upon his hips in the centre of the large cell. He looked about him at his prisoners with the self-satisfied expression of a farmer who has made a good purchase of livestock. "I should not be surprised," he continued, "if we 'ave not uncovered the biggest load of conspirators against the Crown since the Gunpowder Plot. And, 'opefully, we shall in the next few days flush a few more from their fox-holes." He gave his particular attention now to Captain Mubbers and his crew. "We shall also discover 'ow the likes o' you are smuggled inter this country."
"Groonek, wertedas," mumbled Captain Mubbers, staring up placatingly at Inspector Springer. "Freg nusher, tunightly, mibox?"
"So you say, my lad! We'll let an English jury decide your fate!"
Captain Mubbers abandoned his attempts to reason with Inspector Springer and, with a muttered "Kroofrudi!" retired to the company of his crew in the corner.
"We'll need a translator, inspector," said Sergeant Sherwood, from where he stood by the door, taking down details on a clipboard. "I couldn't get their names. All the rest," he continued, "seem pretty foreign, with the exception of those three." With his pencil he indicated Mr. and Mrs. Underwood and the man who had given his name as "Mr. Jackson."
"I have a pill left," offered Jherek. "You could take that and it would enable you to converse with them, if you were on your own…"
"Pills? You stand there and offer me, an officer of the Law, drugs ?" He turned to Sergeant Sherwood. "Drugs," he said.
"That explains it." Sergeant Sherwood nodded soberly. "I wonder wot 'appened to that other one you mentioned. 'Im with the flying machine."
" 'Is whereabouts will come to light in time," said Inspector Springer.
"Absolutely," said Jherek. "I hope he got back all right. The distortion seems to have subsided, wouldn't you say, Jagged?"
"Jackson," said Jagged, but he was not very emphatic. "Yes, but it won't last unless we act quickly."
Mr. Underwood had stopped singing and instead was shaking his head from side to side a good deal. "The tensions," he was saying, "the strain — as you say, my dear." Mrs. Underwood was soothing him. "I apologize for my outbursts — for everything — it was un-Christian — I should have listened — if you love this man…"
"Oh, Harold!"
"No, no. I would rather you went with him. I need a rest, anyway — in the country. Perhaps I could go to stay with my sister — the one who runs the Charity House at Whitehaven. A divorce…"
"Oh, Harold !" She clutched his arm. "Never. It is all right, I will stay with you."