(eng) Michael Moorcock by The Dancers at the End of Time 1-3

Author:The Dancers at the End of Time 1-3 [1-3, The Dancers at the End of Time]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

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.

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