An Alien Heat

12. The Curious Comings and Goings of Snoozer Vine

Jones's Kitchen was hot and rich with odours, not all of which Jherek found to his taste. It was packed with people, too. In the long main room on the ground floor and in the gallery above it which ran around the whole place there was crowded a miscellaneous collection of benches, chairs and tables (none in very good condition). Below the gallery and filling the length of one wall was a big bar of stained deal. Opposite this bar, in a huge stone grate, roared a fire over which was being roasted on a spit the carcass of some animal. Dirty straw and offal, rags and papers covered the flagstones of the floor and the floor also swam with liquid of all kinds. Through the permanent drone of voices came, at frequent intervals, great gusts of laughter, bursts of song, whines of accusation and streams of oaths.

Soiled finery was evidently the fashion here tonight.

Powdered, painted ladies in elaborate, tattered hats wore gowns of green, red and blue silk trimmed with lace and embroidery and when they raised their skirts (which was often) they displayed layers of filthy petticoats. Some had the tops of their dresses undone. Men wore whiskers, beards or stubble and had battered top-hats or bowlers on their heads, loud check waistcoats, mufflers, caps, masher overcoats, yellow, blue and brown trousers, and many sported watch-chains or flowers in their button-holes. The girls and boys wore cut down versions of similar clothes and some of the children imitated their elders by painting their faces with rouge and charcoal. Glasses, bottles and mugs were in every hand, even the smallest, and there was a general scattering of plates and knives and forks and scraps of food on the tables and the floor.

Snoozer Vine guided Jherek Carnelian through this press. They all knew Snoozer Vine. "Wot 'o, Snoozer!" they cried. " 'Ow yer goin', Snooze," and "Give us a kiss, Snoozy!"

And Snoozer grinned and he nodded and he saluted as he steered Jherek through this Dawn Age crowd, these seeds from which would blossom a profusion of variegated plants which would grow and wilt, grow and wilt through a million or two years of history. These were his ancestors. He loved them all. He, too, smiled and waved and got, he was pleased to note, many a broad smile in return.

The little boy's question was frequently repeated.

" 'Oo's yer friend, Snoozer?"

"Wot's ther cove inna fancy dress?"

"Wot yer got there, Snooze?"

Once or twice, as he paused to peck a girl on the cheek, Snoozer would look up and answer:

"Foreign gent. Business acquaintance. Easy, easy, yer'll frighten 'im off. 'E's not familiar wiv our customs in this country." And he would wink at the girl and pass on.

And once someone winked back at Snoozer. "A new mark, eh? Har, har! You'll be buyin' ther rounds termorrer, eh?"

"Likely," replied Snoozer, tapping the side of his nose as he had done before.

Jherek reflected that the translation pill was not working at full strength, for he could not understand much of the language, even now. Unfortunately what the pill had probably done was to translate his own vocabulary into 19th century English, rather than supplying him with their vocabulary. Still, he could get well enough and make himself understood perfectly well.

" 'Ello, ducks," said an old lady, patting his bottom as he went by and offering him something in a glass whose smell reminded him of the way the other lady had smelled. "Want some gin? Want some fun, 'andsome?"

"Clear off, Nellie," said Snoozer with equanimity. " 'E's mine."

Jherek noticed how Snoozer's voice had changed since he had entered the portals of Jones's Kitchen. He seemed almost to speak two different languages.

Several other women, men and children expressed their willingness to make love to Jherek and he had to admit that on another occasion in different circumstances he would have been pleased to have enjoyed the pleasures offered. But Snoozer dragged him on.

What was beginning to puzzle Jherek was that none of these people much resembled in attitude or even appearance Mrs. Amelia Underwood. The horrifying possibility came to him that there might be more than one date known as 1896. Or different time-streams (Brannart Morphail had explained the theory to him once)? On the other hand, Bromley was known to Snoozer Vine. There were probably slightly different tribal customs applying in different areas. Mrs. Underwood came from a tribe where dullness and misery were in vogue, whereas here the people believed in merrymaking and variety.

Now Snoozer led Jherek up a rickety staircase crowded with people and onto the gallery. A passage ran off the gallery and Snoozer entered it, pushing Jherek ahead of him until they came to one of several doors and Snoozer stopped, taking a key from his waistcoat pocket and opening one of the doors.

Going in, Jherek found himself in pitch darkness.

"Just a minute," said Snoozer, stumbling around. A scratching sound was following by a flash of light. Snoozer's face was illuminated by a little fire glowing at the tips of his fingers. He applied this fire to an object of glass and metal which stood on a table. The object began, itself, to glow and gradually brought a rather dim light to the whole small room.

The room contained a bed with rumpled grey sheets, a mahogany wardrobe, a table and two Windsor chairs, a large mirror and about fifty or sixty trunks and suitcases of various sizes. They were stacked everywhere, reaching to the ceiling, poking out from under the bed, teetering on top of the wardrobe, partially obscuring the mirror.

"You collect boxes, Mr. Vine?" Jherek admired the trunks. Some were leather, some metal, some wooden. They all looked in excellent condition. Many had inscriptions which Jherek, of course, could not read, but the inscriptions seemed to be of a wide variety.

Snoozer Vine snorted and laughed. "Yes," he said. "That's right, your lordship. My hobby, it is. Now, let's think about your kit." He began to pace about the room, inspecting the cases, a frown of concentration upon his face. Every so often he would stop, perhaps wipe some dust off one of his trunks, to peer at the inscription or to test a handle. And then, at last, he pulled two leather travelling bags from under a pile and he stood them beside the lamp on the table, brushing away dust to reveal a couple of hieroglyphics. The bags were matched and the hieroglyphics were also the same.

"Perfect," said Vine, fingering his sharp chin. "Excellent, J.C. Your initials, eh?"

"I'm afraid I can't read…"

"Don't worry about that. I'll do all the readin' for you. Let's see, we'll need some clothes."

"Ah!" Jherek was relieved that he could now help his friend. "Say what you would care to wear, Mr. Vine, and I will make it with one of my power rings."

"Do what?"

"You probably don't have them here," said Jherek, displaying his rings. "But with these I can manufacture anything I please — from a — a handkerchief to — um — a house."

"Come off it!" Snoozer Vine's eyes widened and became wary. "You a conjurer by trade, then?"

"I can conjure what you want. Tell me."

Snoozer uttered a peculiar laugh. "All right. I'll have a pile o' gold — on that table."

"At once." With a smile Jherek visualised Snoozer's request and made the appropriate nerve in the appropriate finger operate his ruby power ring. "There!"

And nothing appeared.

"You're having me on, ain't ya!" Snoozer offered Jherek a sideways look.

Jherek was astonished. "How odd."

"Odd's the word," agreed Snoozer.

Jherek's brow cleared. "Of course. No energy banks. The banks are a million years in the future."

"Future?" Snoozer seemed frozen to the spot.

"I am from the future," said Jherek. "I was going to tell you later. The ship — well, it's a time machine, naturally. But damaged."

"Come off' it!" Snoozer cleared his throat several times. "You're a Russian. Or something."

"I assure you I speak the truth."

"You mean you could spot the winners of tomorrow's races if I gave you a list tonight?"

"I don't understand."

"Make predictions — like the fortune-tellers. Is that what you are. A gippo?"

"My predictions wouldn't have much to do with your time. My knowledge of your immediate future is sketchy to say the least."

"You're a bloody loony," said Snoozer Vine in some relief, having got over his astonishment. "An escaped loony. Oh, just my luck!"

"I'm afraid I don't quite…"

"Never mind. You still want to get to Bromley?"

"Yes, indeed."

"And you want to stay at a posh hotel tonight?"

"If that's what you think best."

"Come on, then," said Vine. "We'd better get you the clobber." He crossed to the wardrobe, shaking his head. "Cor! You almost had me believing you, then."

Jherek stood before the mirror and looked at himself with some pleasure. He was dressed in a white shirt with a high, starched collar, a deep purple cravat with a pearl pin, a black waistcoat, black trousers, highly polished black boots, a black frock-coat and on his head a tall, black silk hat.

"The picture of an English aristocrat, though I say it meself," said Snoozer Vine, who had selected the outfit. "You'll pass, your lordship."

"Thank you," said Jherek, taking his friend's remarks for a compliment. He smiled and fingered the clothes. They reminded him of the clothes Mrs. Amelia Underwood had suggested he wear. They cheered him up considerably. They seemed to bring her nearer to him. "Mr. Vine, my dear, they are charming! "

"Here, steady on," said Snoozer, eyeing him with a certain amount of alarm on his thin, quick face. He, himself, was dressed in black, though the costume was not so fine as Jherek's. He picked up the two travelling bags which he had cleaned and filled with several smaller bags. "Hurry up. The cab'll be here by now. They don't like to hang about long near Jones's."

They went back through the throng, causing a certain amount of amusement and attracting plenty of cat-calls until they were outside in the cold night. The fog had cleared slightly and Jherek could see a cab waiting in the street. It was of the same type as the one which had knocked him over.

"Victoria Station," Snoozer told the driver, who sat on a box above and behind the cab.

They got into the hansom and the driver whipped up the horse. They began to rattle through the streets of Whitechapel.

"It's a fair way," Vine told Jherek, who was fascinated by the cab and what little he could see through the windows. "We'll change there. Don't want to make the cabby suspicious."

Jherek wondered why the driver should get suspicious, but he had become used to listening to Snoozer Vine without understanding every word.

Gradually the streets widened out and the gas-lamps became much more frequent. There was a little more traffic, too.

"We're getting near the centre of town," Snoozer explained when Jherek questioned him. "Trafalgar Square ahead. This is the Strand. We'll go down Whitehall and then down Victoria Street to the station."

The names meant nothing to Jherek, but they all had a marvellous, exotic ring to them. He nodded and smiled, repeating the words to himself.

They disembarked outside a fairly large building of concrete and glass which had several tall entrances. Peering through one of the entrances Jherek saw a stretch of asphalt and beyond it a series of iron gates. Beyond the gates stood one or two machines which he recognised immediately as bigger versions of his own locomotive. He cried out in delight. "A museum!"

"A bleeding railway station," said Vine. "This is where the trains go from. Haven't you got trains in your country?"

"Only the one I made myself," said Jherek.

"Gor blimey!" said Snoozer and raised his eyes towards the glass roof which was supported on metal girders. He hurried Jherek through one of the entrances and across the asphalt so that they passed quite close to a couple of the locomotives.

"What are those other things behind it?" Jherek asked curiously.

"Carriages!" snorted Snoozer.

"Oh, I must make some as soon as I get back to my own time," Jherek told him.

"Now," said Snoozer ignoring him, "you'll have to let me do all the talking. You keep quiet, all right — or you could get us both into trouble."

"Very well, Snoozer."

"It's Vine, if you have to address me by name at all. But try not to, see?"

Again, Jherek agreed. They went through an exit where several more cabs were waiting. Snoozer signalled the nearest and they climbed in.

"Imperial Hotel," said Snoozer. He turned to Jherek who was, again, peering through the window at the romantic night. "And don't forget what I told you, eh?"

"You are my guide," Jherek assured him. "I am in your hands — Vine."

"Fine."

And soon the cab had stopped outside a large house whose lower windows blazed with light. There was an imposing entrance, of marble and granite, and a stone awning supported by marble pillars. As the cab drew up a middle-aged man in dark green, wearing a green top-hat taller than Jherek's, rushed from within the building and opened the door. A boy, also in green, but with a pill-box hat on his head, followed the man and took the two bags which the driver handed down.

"Good morning, sir," said the middle-aged man to Jherek.

"This is Lord Carnell," said Snoozer Vine. "I am his man. We telegraphed from Dover to say we'd be arriving about now."

The middle-aged man frowned. "I don't recall no wire, sir. But maybe they'll know about it at the reception desk."

Snoozer paid the driver and they followed the boy with the bags into the warmth of a wide lobby at the far end of which stood a highly polished bar. Behind the bar stood an old man dressed in a black frock-coat with a gray waist-coat. He looked faintly surprised and was leafing through a large book which rested on the bar before him. Jherek glanced about him as Vine approached the bar. There were lots of potted palms in the lobby and these, too, reminded him nostalgically of Mrs. Underwood. He hoped he could leave for Bromley early tomorrow.

"Lord Carnell, sir?" the old man in the frock-coat was saying to Vine. "No telegram, sir, I'm afraid."

"This is extremely inconvenient," Vine was saying in still another kind of voice. "I sent the telegram myself as soon as the boat docked."

"Not to worry, sir," the old man soothed, "we have plenty of unreserved accommodation as it happens. What will you require?"

"A suite," said Snoozer Vine, "for his lordship, with a room attached for my use."

"Of course, sir." Again the old man consulted the book. "Number 26, facing the river, sir. A beautiful view."

"That will do," Vine said rather haughtily.

"And if you will sign the register, sir."

Jherek was about to point out that he could not write when Vine picked up the pen, dipped it in the ink and made marks on the paper. Apparently it was not necessary for them both to sign.

They crossed soft, scarlet carpets to a cage of curling brass and iron and the boy pulled back a gate so that they could get in. Another old man stood inside the cage. "Number 26," said the boy.

Jherek looked around him. "A strange sort of room," he murmured. But Vine didn't reply. He looked steadily away from Jherek.

The old man pulled a rope and suddenly they were rising into the air. Jherek giggled with pleasure and then yelped as he fell against the wall when the cage stopped suddenly. The old man opened the gate.

"Aha," said Jherek knowingly. This was a crude form of levitation. The gate opened onto a scarlet carpeted hallway. There was an air of great luxury about the whole place. It was more like home.

Jherek and Vine were almost immediately joined by the black-coated man and the boy with their bags. They were ushered a short distance along the hall and into a suite of large rooms. Windows looked out onto a stretch of gleaming water similar to that which Jherek had seen when he first arrived.

"Would you like some supper brought up, sir?" the man in the frock-coat asked Jherek. Jherek realised that he was beginning to feel hungry and he opened his mouth to agree with the suggestion when Snoozer Vine interrupted.

"No thank you. We have already dined — on the train up from Dover."

"Then I'll bid you good night, your lordship." The man in the frock-coat seemed to resent Snoozer Vine's speaking for Jherek. This last remark was directed pointedly at Jherek.

"Good night," said Jherek. "And thank you for putting the river there. I —"

"For the view. We've been away for some time. His lordship hasn't seen the good old Thames since last year," hastily explained Snoozer Vine, herding the old man and the boy before him.

At last the door closed.

Vine gave Jherek a strange look and shook his head. "Well, I mustn't complain. We're in. And when we go out we'll be a deal better off I shouldn't wonder. You'd better get some kip while you've got the chance. I'll nip into my own room now. Nightie night — your lordship." Chuckling, Snoozer Vine left the main room and closed a door behind him.

Jherek had understood almost nothing of Vine's final remarks, but he shrugged and went to stare out at the river. He imagined himself in a punt on it with Mrs. Amelia Underwood. He imagined Mrs. Amelia Underwood here beside him now and he sighed. Even if he had difficulty getting back to his own time he was certain that he could settle here quite easily. Everyone was so kind to him. Perhaps Mrs. Underwood would be kinder in her own time. Well, they would soon be reunited. Humming the tune of "All Things Bright and Beautiful" he padded about the suite, exploring the bedroom, the sitting room, the dressing room and the bathrooms. He already knew about plumbing, but he was fascinated by the taps and the plugs and the chains involved in letting water into and out of various china containers. He played with them all for some time before tiring of it and going back into his gaslit bedroom. Perhaps he had better sleep, he thought. And yet, for all his adventures, his minor injuries, his excitement, he did not feel at all weary.

He wondered if Snoozer were tired. He opened the door to see if his friend had managed to sleep and was surprised to find Vine gone. The bed was empty. The two suitcases were open on the bed, but the smaller cases they had contained were also missing.

Jherek could think of no explanation for Snoozer's disappearance and neither could he imagine where Snoozer had taken the bags. He went back into his own room and regarded the Thames again, watching as a black craft chugged by before vanishing under the arch of one of the nearest bridges. The fog was so thin now that Jherek could see to the other side of the river, could see the outlines of the buildings and the glow of the gaslamps. Did Bromley lie in that direction?

He heard a movement from Snoozer's room. He turned. Snoozer had come back, creeping in and closing the outer door quietly behind him. He had two of the smaller bags held in one hand and they were full. They were bulging. He looked a little surprised when he saw Jherek watching him. He gave a weak grin. "Oh, 'ello, your lordship."

"Hello, Snoozer." Jherek did not feel particularly curious about Snoozer's activities. He smiled back.

Snoozer misinterpreted the smile, it seemed. He nodded as he crossed to his bed and put the two small cases into the larger one. "You guessed, ain't you?"

"About the bags?"

"That's right. Well, there's something in it for you, too." Snoozer laughed. "If it's only the fare to Bromley, eh?"

"Ah, yes," said Jherek.

"Well, o' course, there'll be a cut. A quarter suit you? 'Cause I'm taking all the risks. Mind you, it's the best haul I've ever had. I've dreamed of getting in here for years. Any Snoozer would. I needed someone like you who'd pass for a gent, see."

"Oho," said Jherek, still unable to get the drift of Snoozer's remarks. He smiled again.

"You're brighter than I thought, you are. I suppose they got hotel snoozers even where you come from, eh? Well, don't worry, as I say. Just keep mum. We'll leave here early in the morning before anyone else is up — and we'll be a lot richer than they'll be, eh?" Snoozer laughed. He winked. He opened his door and left again, closing the lock carefully.

Jherek went over to the bags. He had some difficulty in working out how they unfastened, but at last he got one open and looked inside. Snoozer seemed to be collecting watches and rings and gold discs. There were various other items in the bags, including some diamond pins very similar to one in Jherek's cravat (only his was a pearl), some small links for securing the cuffs of shirts, some thin cases which contained white paper tubes which in turn contained some kind of aromatic herb. There were some flasks, in silver and in gold, there were studs and chains and pendants, necklaces and a couple of tiaras and a fan with a frame of gold studded with emeralds. They were all quite pretty but Jherek could not see why Snoozer Vine needed so many things of that kind. He shrugged and closed the bag.

A little while later Snoozer returned with two more bags. He was elated. He was panting. His eyes shone.

"The biggest haul of my life. You wouldn't believe the swag what's here tonight. I couldn't have picked a better night in a hundred years. There's been a big ball in Belgravia somewhere. I saw a programme. And all the nobs from the country have come up — and people from abroad — in all their finest. There must be a million quid's worth of stuff lying around in their rooms. And them snoring away and me just taking me pick!" Snoozer removed a large bunch of keys from his pocket and rattled them in Jherek's face. From his other pocket he pulled a small object which reminded Jherek of the club Yusharisp had carried when disguised as a Piltdown Man. Only this one was smaller. "And look at this! Found it on top of a jewel case. Pearl-handled pistol. I'll keep that for meself," Snoozer laughed heartily, though very quietly, "in case o' burglars, eh, Jerry?"

Jherek was glad to see his friend pleased. Other people's enthusiasms were often quite hard to appreciate and this was certainly one he could not share, but he smiled.

"In case o' burglars!" Snoozer repeated in delight. He opened one of the cases and scooped several strands of pearls out, holding them up to the light. "We'll pack all these away and be out of here while they're still sleeping off the effects of the bubbly. Ha, ha!"

Now Jherek did feel tired. He yawned. He stretched. "Fine," he said. "Have you any objection if I sleep for an hour or two before we leave, Snoozer?"

"Sleep the sleep of the just, my old partner. You brought me luck and that's a fact. I can retire. I can get a stables and stock it with horses and become an Owner. Snoozer Vine, owner of the Derby winner. I can see it there." He gestured with his hands. "And I could buy a pub, somewhere out in the country. Hailsham way. Or Epsom, near the track." He closed his eyes. "Or go abroad. To Paris! Oo-la-la." He chuckled to himself as he folded another bag and tucked it under his coat. And then he had left again.

Jherek lay down on his bed, having removed his coat and his silk hat. He was looking forward to dawn when, he hoped, Snoozer would set him on his way to Bromley and Number 23 Collins Avenue.

"Oh, Mrs. Underwood," he breathed. "Do not fear. Even now your saviour is contemplating your rescue!"

He hoped that Mr. Underwood would understand the position.

Jherek was awakened by Snoozer Vine shaking his shoulder. Snoozer had a look of heated rapture upon his face. There was sweat on his brow. His eyes glittered.

"Time to be off, Jerry, me boy. Back to Jones's. We'll have the stuff fenced by tonight and then it's me for the Continent for a bit."

"Bromley?" said Jherek, sitting stiffly up.

"Bromley as soon as you like. I'll drop you off at the station. I'll get you a ticket. If I had the time I'd have a special bloody train laid on for you after what you've helped me do."

Snoozer brandished Jherek's top hat and coat. "Quick, into these. I've already told 'em we're leaving early — for your country estate. They don't suspect a thing. It's funny what a trusting lot o' buggers they are when they think you got a title."

Jherek Carnelian struggled into the coat. There came a knock at the door. For an instant Snoozer looked wary and agitated and then he relaxed, grinning. "That'll be the boy for our bags. We'll let him carry the swag out for us, eh?"

Jherek nodded absently. Again he was contemplating his reunion with Mrs. Underwood.

The boy came in. He picked up their bags. He frowned as he found he had to struggle with them, as if he was remembering that they had not seemed so heavy the night before.

"Well, sir," said Snoozer Vine to Jherek Carnelian in a loud voice, "you'll be pleased to get back to Dorset, I shouldn't wonder."

"Dorset?" As they followed the boy along the passage Jherek wondered why Vine was looking at him in such a strange way. "Bromley," he said.

"That's right, sir." Anxiously Snoozer put a finger to his lips. They entered the cage and were borne to the ground floor. Vine's expression of elation was still on his face but he was doing his best to hide it, to compose his features into the somewhat sterner lines of the previous night.

It was dawn outside; a grey, rainy dawn. Jherek waited near the door while another boy went to find a cab, for there were none waiting at this time in the morning. The same old man stood behind the reception desk. He was frowning slightly as he accepted the gold discs which Snoozer Vine handed to him.

"His lordship's eager to get back to the country," Vine was explaining. "Her ladyship hasn't been well. That is why we returned so suddenly from France."

"I see." The old man scribbled on a piece of paper and then handed the paper to Vine.

Jherek thought he detected a somewhat strained atmosphere in the hotel this morning. Everyone seemed to be looking at him with a slightly peculiar expression. He heard the clatter of a cab coming along the street and saw it appear with the green-suited boy clinging to the running board. The middle-aged man in the top hat opened the glass door. The boy picked up the bags as Snoozer crossed the lobby and joined Jherek.

"Good-bye, your lordship," said the man at the desk.

"Good-bye," said Jherek cheerfully. "Thank you."

"These bags are a weight, sir," said the boy.

"Don't be cheeky, Herbert," said the middle-aged man holding the door.

"Yes," said Jherek conversationally, "they're full of Snoozer's swag now."

Snoozer gasped as the mouth of the middle-aged man dropped open.

At that moment a red-faced man in a nightshirt came running down the stairs pulling on a velvet dressing gown that Jherek would have liked to have worn himself.

"I've been robbed!" shouted the red-faced man. "My wife's jewels. My cigarette case. Everything."

"Stop!" shouted the old man at the desk.

The middle-aged man let the door go and threw himself at Jherek. The boy dropped the bags. Jherek fell over. He had never been attacked physically before. He laughed.

The middle-aged man turned on Snoozer Vine who was desperately trying to get the bags through the door and out to the cab, a look of profound agony on his thin face. He dropped the bags when the middle-aged man tackled him.

"You can't," he yelled. "Not now!" He wriggled free, tugging something from his pocket. "Stand back!"

"A snoozer!" growled the middle-aged man. "I should have known. Don't threaten me. I'm an ex-sergeant-major." And again he dived at Snoozer.

There was a fairly loud bang.

The middle-aged man fell down. Snoozer stared at him in surprise. The surprise was mirrored on the face of the middle-aged man who now had a huge red stain on the front of his green uniform. His top hat fell off. Snoozer waved something at the man in the dressing gown and the old man in the black coat. "Pick up the bags, Jerry," he said.

Bemused, Jherek bent and lifted the two heavy bags. The boy was hovering behind one of the potted palms, his cheeks sucked in and his eyes wide. Snoozer Vine's back was to the door but Jherek noticed that the cabby had climbed down from his cab and was running down the street waving to someone whom Jherek couldn't see. He heard a whistle sound.

"Through the door," said Snoozer in a small, cold voice.

Jherek went through the door and out into the rainy street.

"Into the cab, quick," said Snoozer. Now he waved the black and silver object at the cabby and another man, dressed in a suit of dark blue and wearing a hat with a rounded crown and no brim, who were running up the street towards them. "Get back or I'll fire!"

Jherek found the whole thing extremely amusing. He had no idea what was going on but he was enjoying the drama. He looked forward to telling Mrs. Amelia Underwood about it in a few hours. He wondered why Snoozer Vine was climbing onto the box of the cab and whipping up the horse. The cab shot off down the street. Jherek heard one more bang and then they had turned a corner and were dashing along another thoroughfare which had a number of people — mainly dressed in grey overcoats and flat hats — in it. All the people turned to stare at the cab as it flew past. Jherek waved gaily to some of them.

Full of elation, for he would soon be in Bromley, he began to sing. "Jesus bids us shine with a pure, clear light…" he sang as he was jolted from side to side in the hurtling cab. "Like a little candle burning in the night!"

They reached the entrance to Jones's Kitchen some time later, for Snoozer Vine had decided to leave the cab a good mile or so away. Jherek, who was carrying the bags, was quite tired when they got to the house and he wondered why Snoozer's manner had changed so markedly. The man kept snarling at him and saying things like "You certainly turned good luck into bad in a hurry. I hope to Christ that feller didn't die. If he did it's as much your fault as mine."

"Die?" Jherek had said innocently. "But can't he be resurrected? Or is this too early?"

"Shut yer mouth!" Snoozer had told him. "Well, if I swing so will you. I'd 'ave left yer behind if I 'adn't known you'd blab it all out in two minutes. I ought ter do you in, too." He laughed bitterly. "Don't forget yore an accomplice, that's all."

"You said you'd get me to Bromley," Jherek reminded him gently as they went up the steps to Jones's Kitchen.

"Bromley?" Snoozer Vine sneered. "Ha! You'll be lucky if you don't wind up in Hell now!"

During the next few days Jherek began to understand, even more profoundly than before, what misery was. He found that he was growing a beard quite involuntarily and it itched terribly. He became infested with tiny insects of three or four different varieties and they bit him all over. The clothes which Snoozer Vine had originally given him were taken from him and he was given a few thin rags to wear instead. Snoozer occasionally left the room they both shared and went down to the ground floor, always returning very surly and unsteady and smelling of the stuff which the woman had offered Jherek on his first night in Jones's Kitchen. And it grew very cold. Snoozer would not allow Jherek to go downstairs and warm himself at the fire so Jherek, as he came to understand the nature of cold, came also to understand the nature of hunger and thirst. Initially he made the most if it, savouring every experience, but slowly it began to depress him. And slowly he found himself unable to respond to the novelty of it all. Slowly he was learning to know what fear was. Snoozer was teaching him that. Snoozer would hiss at him sometimes, making incomprehensible threats. Snoozer would growl and snap and strike Jherek who still had no instinct to defend himself. Indeed, the very idea of defence was alien to him. And all the people who had been so friendly when he had first arrived now either ignored him or, like Snoozer, snarled at him if he ventured out of the room. He became thin and mean and dirty. He ceased to despair and began to forget Bromley and even Mrs. Amelia Underwood. He began to forget that he had ever known any existence but the squalid, trunk-filled room above Jones's Kitchen.

And then, one morning, there came a great commotion below. Snoozer was still snoring on the bed, having come back in his usual unsteady, argumentative mood, and Jherek was sleeping in his usual place under the table. Jherek woke first, but his senses were too dulled by hunger, fatigue and misery for him to make any reaction to the noise. He heard yells, smashing sounds. Snoozer began to stir and open bleary eyes.

"What is it?" Snoozer said thickly. "If only that bloody fence would turn up. All that stuff and nobody ter touch it 'cause o' that feller dying." He swung his legs off the bed and swung a kick, automatically, at Jherek. "Christ, I wish that bloody 'ansom 'ad killed yer that first bloody night."

This was almost invariably his waking ritual. But this morning he cocked his head as it dawned on him that something was going on downstairs. He reached under his pillow and brought out his pistol. He got off the bed and went to the door. Cautiously, he opened the door, the pistol in his hand. Again he paused to listen. Loud voices. Oaths. Screams. Women's voices shouting in offended tones. A boy wailing. The deep, aggressive voices of men.

Snoozer Vine, looking little healthier than Jherek, began to pad along the passage. Jherek got up and watched from the doorway. He saw Snoozer reach the gallery just as two men, in the blue clothes he had seen on the other man as they left the hotel, rushed at him from both sides, as if they had been waiting for him. There was another shot. One of the men in blue staggered back. Snoozer broke free of the other's grasp, reached the rail of the gallery, hesitated and then leapt over it to vanish from Jherek's sight.

Jherek began to shuffle along the passage to where one of the men in blue was helping the other get to his feet.

"Stand back!" shouted the one who was not wounded. But Jherek hardly heard him. He shuffled to the rail of the gallery and looked down. He saw Snoozer on the dirty flagstones of the ground floor. His head was bleeding. His whole face seemed covered in blood. He was spread-eagled at an awkward angle and he kept trying to raise himself on his hands and knees and failing. Slowly he was being surrounded by many other men, all dressed in the same blue suits with the same blue hats on their heads. They stood and looked at him, not trying to help him as he made effort after effort to raise himself up. And then he was still.

A fat man — one of the men who served behind the bar in Jones's Kitchen — appeared at the edge of the circle of men in blue. He looked down at Snoozer. He looked up at the gallery and saw Jherek. He pointed. "That's 'im," he said. "That's the other one."

Jherek felt a strong hand grip his thin shoulder. He was sensitive to pain, for Snoozer had raised a bruise on the same shoulder the night before. But the pain seemed to stimulate his memory. He turned to look up at the grim-faced man who held him.

"Mrs. Amelia Underwood," said Jherek in a small, pleading voice, "23 Collins Avenue, Bromley, Kent, England."

He repeated the phrase over and over again as he was led down the steps of the gallery, through the deserted main room, out of the door into the morning light where a black waggon drawn by four black horses awaited him. Free from Snoozer, free from Jones's Kitchen, Jherek felt a mindless surge of relief.

"Thank you," he told one of the men who had climbed into the waggon with him. "Thank you."

The man gave a thin smile. "Don't thank me, lad. They'll 'ang you fer this one, certain."