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."
"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."