"What?" said Jherek. "Don't listen to her, Mr. Underwood." But then he wished that he had not spoken. "No, you must listen to her, I suppose…"
Mr. Underwood said more firmly. "It is not merely for your sake, Amelia. The scandal…"
"Oh, Harold. I am sorry."
"Not your fault, I'm sure."
"You will sue me ?"
"Well, naturally. You could not…"
"Harold!" This time her tears seemed to be of a different quality. "Where would I go?"
"With — with Mr. Carnelian, surely?"
"You cannot realize what that means, Harold."
"You are used to foreign climes. If you left England, set up a new home somewhere…"
She wiped her eyes, staring accusingly at Jherek. "This is all your doing, Mr. Carnelian. Now see what has happened."
"I can't quite see…" he began, but then gave up, for she had given her attention back to Mr. Underwood.
Another policeman entered the cell. "Aha," said Inspector Springer. "Sorry to get you out of bed, constable. I jest wanted to clear somefin' in my mind. You were at the execution, I believe, of the Mayfair Killer?"
"I wos, sir."
"And would you say this chap's the one that got 'anged?" He pointed at Jherek.
"Bears a resemblance, sir. But I saw the Killer go. With a certain amount o' dignity, as wos remarked upon at the time. Couldn't be the same."
"You saw the body — after?"
"No, sir. In fac', sir, there was a bit of a rumour went rahnd — well … No, sir — 'e looks sort o' different — shorter — different colour 'air an' complexion…"
"I've changed them, since you —" began Jherek helpfully, but Inspector Springer said: "Quiet, you!" He seemed satisfied. "Thank you, constable."
"Thank you, sir." The constable left the cell.
Inspector Springer approached Mr. Underwood. "Feelin' calmer now, eh?"
"A little," agreed Mr. Underwood warily. "I hope, I mean, you don't think I…"
"I think you wos mistaken, that's all. 'Aving 'ad a chance ter — well — see you in different circumstances — I would say — well — that you wos a bit 'ighly-strung — not quite right in the — um —" He began again, almost kindly. "With your missus runnin' off, an' all that. Besides, I'm grateful to yer, Mr. Underwood. Not knowing, like, you 'elped me unmask this vicious gang. We've bin 'earing abaht a plan to assassinate 'Er Majesty, but the clews 'ave bin a bit thin on the ground — now we've got somefin' ter work on, see?"
"You mean, these people…? Amelia — were you aware…?"
"Harold!" She gestured imploringly to Jherek. "We have told you the truth. I am sure that nobody here knows anything about such a terrible plot. They are all from the future!"
Again Inspector Springer shook his head. "The problem will be," he said to Sergeant Sherwood, "in sortin' the out an' out loonies from the conscious criminals."
The Iron Orchid yawned. "I must say, my dear," she murmured to Jherek, "that you have your dull moments as well as your amusing ones in the Dawn Age."
"It's not often like this," he apologized.
"Therefore, sir," said Inspector Springer to Mr. Underwood, "you can go. We'll need you as a witness, of course, but I don't think, as things stand, we want to keep you up any longer."
"And my wife?"
"She must stay, I'm afraid."
Mr. Underwood allowed Sergeant Sherwood to lead him from the cell. "Goodbye, my dear," he said.
"Goodbye, Harold." She did not seem very moved now.
The Duke of Queens drew off his magnificent hunting hat and brushed at its plumes. "What is this stuff?" he asked Mr. Jackson.
"Dust," said Jackson. "Grime."
"How interesting. How do you make it?"
"There are many ways of manufacturing it in the Dawn Age," Mr. Jackson told him.
"You must tell me some of them, Jherek." The Duke of Queens replaced his hat on his head. His voice dropped to a whisper. "And what are we waiting for now?" he enquired eagerly.
"I am not quite sure," Jherek said. "But you're bound to enjoy it. I enjoy everything here."
"Who could fail to, O banisher of boredom!" The Duke of Queens beamed benignly upon Inspector Springer. "And I do love your characters, Jherek. They are in perfect key."
Sergeant Sherwood returned with a stately-looking middle-aged man in a black tailcoat and a tall black hat. Recognizing him, Inspector Springer saluted. " 'Ere they are for you, sir. I don't mind admitting it took some doing to nab 'em, but nabbed they are!"
The stately man nodded and cast a cold eye, on Lat, on Jherek, heaving a sigh. He allowed no expression to come to his face as he inspected the Iron Orchid, the Duke of Queens, Bishop Castle, My Lady Charlotina, Donna Isobella and Mrs. Underwood. It was only when he took a close glance at Mr. Jackson's face that he breathed a barely heard: "Good heavens!"
"Good evening, Munroe — or is it morning, yet?" Jagged seemed amused. "How's the Minister?"
"Is it you, Jagger?"
"I'm afraid so."
"But, how —?"
"Ask the inspector here, my dear chap."
"Inspector?"
"A friend of yours, sir?"
"You do not recognize Lord Charles Jagger?"
"But…" said Inspector Springer.
"I told you it was," said Jherek in triumph to Mrs. Underwood, but she silenced him.
"Did you explain anything to the inspector, Jagger?"
"It's not really his fault, but he was so convinced we were all mixed up in this business that there was no point in trying to get through to him. I thought it best to wait."
Munroe smiled sourly. "And got me from my bed."
"There's the Latvians, sir," said Inspector Springer eagerly, "at least."
Munroe made a stately turn and looked sternly at the Lat. "Ah, yes. Not friends of yours, are they Jagger?"
"Not at all. Inspector Springer has done a good job there. The rest of us — all my guests — were dining at the Cafe Royale. As you know, I take an interest in the arts…"
"Of course. There is no more to be said."
"So you're not even a bloomin' anarchist?" complained Inspector Springer moodily to Jherek. "Just a well-connected loony." And he uttered a deep sigh.
"Inspector!" admonished the stately gentleman.
"Sorry, sir."
"Ferkit!" said Captain Mubbers from his corner. He seemed to be addressing Munroe. "Gloo, mibix?"
"Ugh," said Munroe.
None of the Lat seemed to have taken their imprisonment well. They sat in a sad little group on the floor of the cell, picking their huge noses, scratching their oddly shaped heads.
"Did you have any reason to suspect Lord Jagger and his friends, inspector?" asked Munroe distantly.
"Well, no, sir, except — well, even that wasn't … these green and blue women, sir —" Inspector Springer subsided. "No, sir."
"They have not been charged?"
"Not yet — er, no, sir."
"They can go?"
"Yes, sir."
"There you are, Jagger."
"Thank you, Munroe."
"This other business," said Munroe, waving his stick at the disconsolate aliens, "can wait until morning. I hope you have plenty of evidence for me, inspector."
"Oh, yes, sir," said Inspector Springer. In his eyes there was no light of pleasurable anticipation in the future. He stared hopelessly at the Lat. "They're definitely forrin', sir, for a start."
As they all entered the wide avenue of Whitehall, Lord Jagger's friend Munroe lifted his hat to the ladies. "My compliments on your costumes," he said. "It must have been a marvellous ball if they were all as fine. See you at the club, perhaps, Jagger?"