Bishop Castle subsided slowly to the floor, nodding and smiling. Blinking, the constables backed away.

"They have taken prisoners , too. Just as they took us prisoner, that time. Ah, boredom is banished, at last! And there has been a battle — the Duke of Queens magnificent, in charge of our aerial fleet (it did not last more than a few seconds, unfortunately, but it did look pretty), and My Lady Charlotina as an amazon, in a chariot . Amusement returns to our dull world! Dozens, at least, are dead !" He waved his crook apologetically at the company. "You must forgive the interruption. I am so sorry. I forget my manners."

"I know you," said Inspector Springer significantly. "I arrested you before, at the Cafe Royal."

"So pleased to see you again, Inspector." It was plain that Bishop Castle had not understood a word that Inspector Springer had said. He popped a translation pill into his mouth. "You decided to continue your party, then, at the End of Time?"

"End of Time?" said Harold Underwood, showing fresh interest. "Armageddon?"

Amelia Underwood went to him. She tried to sooth him. He shook her off.

"Ha!" he said.

"Harold. You're being childish."

"Ha!"

Despondently, she remained where she was, staring at him.

"You should see the destruction ," continued Bishop Castle. He laughed. "Nothing at all is left of Below-the-Lake, unless Brannart's laboratories are still there. But the menagerie is completely gone, and all My Lady Charlotina's apartments — the lake itself — all gone! It'll take her hours to replace them." He tugged at Jherek's sleeve. "You must return with me and see the spectacle, Jherek. That's why I came away, to make sure you did not miss it all."

"Your friends aren't going anywhere, sir. And neither, I might add, are you." Inspector Springer signalled his constables forward.

"How wonderful! You'd take us prisoners, too! Have you any weapons, like the Lats? You must produce something, Inspector, to rival their effects, unless you wish to be absolutely outshone!"

"I thought these Latvians were on your side," said Sergeant Sherwood.

"Indeed, no! What would be the fun of that?"

"You say they're destroying everything. Rape, pillage, murder?"

"Exactly."

"Well, I never…" Inspector Springer scratched his head. "So you're merely the foils of these people, instead o' the other way about?"

"I think there's a misunderstanding, Inspector," said Mrs. Underwood. "You see…"

"Misunderstanding!" Suddenly Harold Underwood lurched towards her. "Jezebel!"

"Harold!"

"Ha!"

There came another boom, louder than the previous ones, and the ceiling vanished to reveal the sky.

"It can only be the Lat," said Bishop Castle, with the air of an expert. "You really must come with me. Jherek and Amelia, unless you want to be destroyed before you have enjoyed any of the fun." He began to lead them towards his air-car at the window. "There'll be nothing left of our world, at this rate!"

"Do they really mean to destroy you all?" asked the time-traveller, as they went by.

"I gather not. They originally came for prisoners. Mistress Christia, of course," this to Jherek, "is now a captive. I think it's their habit to go about the galaxy killing the males and abducting the females."

"You'll let them?" Mrs. Underwood enquired.

"What do you mean?"

"You won't stop this?"

"Oh, eventually, I suppose we'll have to. Mistress Christia wouldn't be happy in space. Particularly if it has become as bleak as Mongrove reports."

"What do you say, Amelia? Shall we go and watch? Join in?" Jherek wanted to know.

"Of course not."

He suppressed his disappointment.

"Perhaps you wish me to be abducted by those creatures?" she said.

"Indeed, no!"

"Perhaps it would be better to return in my Chronomnibus," suggested the time-traveller, "at least until —"

"Amelia?"

She shook her head. "The circumstances are too shameful for me. Respectable society would be closed to me now."

"Then you will stay, dearest Amelia?"

"Mr. Carnelian, this is no time to continue with your pesterings. I will accept that I am an outcast, but I still have certain standards of behaviour. Besides, I am concerned for Harold. He is not himself. And for that, we are to blame. Well, perhaps not you, really — but I must accept a large share of guilt. I should have been firmer. I should not have admitted my love —" and she burst into tears.

"You do admit it, then, Amelia!"

"You are heartless, Mr. Carnelian," she sobbed, "and scarcely tactful…"

"Ha!" said Harold Underwood. "It is just as well that I have already begun divorce proceedings…"

"Excellent!" cried Jherek.

Another boom.

"My machine!" exclaimed the time-traveller, and ran outside.

"Take cover, men." Inspector Springer called. They all lay down.

Bishop Castle was already in his air-car, surrounded by a cloud of dust. "Are you coming, Jherek?"

"I think not. I hope you enjoy yourself, Bishop Castle."

"I shall. I shall." The air-car began to rise, Charon's barge, into the upper atmosphere.

Only Mr. and Mrs. Underwood and Jherek Carnelian remained standing, in the ruins of the palace. "Come," said Jherek to them both, "I think I know where we can find safety." He turned a power-ring. His old air-car, the locomotive, materialized. It was in gleaming red and black now, but lime-coloured smoke still puffed from its stack. "Forgive the lack of invention," he said to them, "but as we are in haste…"

"You would save Harold, too?" she said, as Jherek helped her husband aboard.

"Why not? You say you are concerned for him." He grinned cheerfully, while overhead a searing, scarlet bolt of pure energy went roaring by, "Besides, I wish to hear the details of this divorce he plans. Is that not the ceremony that must take place before we can be married?"

She made no reply to this, as she joined him on the footplate. "Where are we going, Mr. Carnelian?"

The locomotive began to puff skyward. "I'm full of old smokies," he sang, "I'm covered in dough. I've eaten blue plovers and I'm snorting up coke!" Mr. Underwood clutched the rail and stared down at the ruins they left behind. His knees were shaking. "It's a railroad song, from your own time," Jherek explained. "Would you like to be the fireman?"

He offered Mr. Underwood the platinum shovel. Mr. Underwood accepted the shovel without a word and, mechanically, began to stoke coal into the fire-chamber.

"Mr. Carnelian! Where are we going?"

"To certain safety, dearest Amelia. To certain safety, I assure you."

"You are not disturbed, dearest Amelia, by this city?"

"I find the place improbable. I failed to realize, listening only to talk of such settlements, how vast and how, well, how unlike cities they were!"

Mr. Underwood stood some distance away, on the other side of the little plaza. Green globes of fuzzy light, about the size of tennis balls, ran up and down his outstretched arms; he watched them with childlike delight; behind him the air was black, purple, dark green shot with crimson, as chemicals expanded and contracted in a kind of simulation of breathing, giving off their vapours; bronze sparks showered nearby, pinkish energy arced from one tower to another; steel sang. The city murmured to itself, almost asleep, certainly drowsy. Even the narrow rivulets of mercury, criss-crossing the ground at their feet, seemed to be running slowly.

"The cities protect themselves," Jherek explained. "I have seen it before. No weapon can operate within them, no weapon can harm them from without, because they can always command more energy than any weapon brought against them, you see. It was part of their original design."