The Hollow Lands

"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 ru

"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, Do

"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-co

"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?"

"Perhaps tomorrow," said Jagged.

Munroe made his stately way up Whitehall.

Light began to touch the tall buildings.

"Oh, look!" cried My Lady Charlotina. "It's a proper old-fashioned dawn. A real one!"

The Duke of Queens clapped Jherek on the shoulder. "Beautiful!"

Jherek still felt he had earned the Duke's esteem rather cheaply, considering that he had done nothing at all to produce the sunrise, but he could not help indulging an immensely satisfying sense of identification with the wonders of the 19th century world, so again he shook his head modestly, but allowed the Duke to continue with his praise.

"Smell that air!" exclaimed the Duke of Queens. "A thousand rich scents mingle in it! Ah!" He strode ahead of the others who followed him as he turned along the embankment, admiring the river with its flotsam, its barges, its sheen of oil, all grey in the early dawn.

Jherek said to Mrs. Underwood. "Will you now admit that you love me, Mrs. Underwood? I gather that your co

"He seems to think so." She sighed. "I did my best."

"Your singing was marvellous."

"He must have been fairly unstable to begin with," she said. "However, I must blame myself for what happened."

She seemed unwilling to speak further and, tactfully, Jherek shared her silence.

A tug-boat hooted from the river. Some gulls flapped upwards into a sky of soft and glowing gold, the trees lining the embankment rustled as if awakening to the new day. The others, some distance in front of Jherek and Mrs. Underwood, commented on this aspect and that of the city.

"What a perfect ending to our picnic," said the Iron Orchid to Lord Jagged. "When shall we be going back, do you know?"

"Soon," he said, "I would think."

Eventually, they left the embankment and turned into a street Jherek knew. He touched Mrs. Underwood's arm. "Do you recognize the building?"