"What, the year? Yes, of course. April Four, 1896. D'you reckon the date's different, then, where you come from?"

Jherek smiled. "More or less."

The other people were beginning to drift away, calling good night to one another as they left.

"Night night, Snoozer," called a woman to the young man.

"Night, Meggo."

"You're called Snoozer?" said Jherek.

"Right. Nickname." Snoozer lifted the index finger of his right hand and laid it alongside his nose. He winked. "What's your monnicker, mate?"

"My name? Jherek Carnelian."

"I'll call you Jerry, eh? All right."

"Certainly. And I'll call you Snoozer."

"Well, about that —" Snoozer put down his empty cup on the counter. "Maybe you could call me Mr. Vine — which is by way of being my real name, see? I wouldn't mind, in the normal course of things, but where we're going 'Mr. Vine' would sound more respectable, see?"

"Mr. Vine it is. Tell me, Mr. Vine, is Bromley hereabouts?"

"Bromley in Kent?" Snoozer laughed. "It depends what you mean. You can get to it fast enough on the train. Less than half-an-hour from Victoria Station — or is it Waterloo? Why, you got some relative there, have you?"

"My — um — betrothed."

"Young lady, eh? English, is she?"

"I believe so."

"Good for you. Well, I'll help you get to Bromley, Jerry. Not tonight, o' course, because it's too late. You got somewhere to stay, 'ave you?"

"I hadn't considered it."

"Ah, well that's all right. How'd you like to sleep in a nice hotel bed tonight — no charge at all? A comfortable bed in a posh West End hotel. At my expense."

"You're very kind, Mr. Vine." Really, thought Jherek, the people of this age were extremely friendly. "I am rather cold and I am extremely battered." He laughed.

"Yes, your clothes could do with a bit of cleaning, eh?" Snoozer Vine fingered his chin. "Well, I think I can help you there, too. Fix you up with a fresh suit of clothes and everything. And you'll need some luggage. Have you got any luggage?"

"Well, no. I —"

"Don't say another word. Luggage will be supplied. Supplied, Jerry, my friend, courtesy of Snoozer's suitcase emporium. What was your last name again?"

"Carnelian."

"Carnell. I'll call you Carnell, if you don't mind."

"By all means, Mr. Vine."

Snoozer Vine uttered a wild and cheerful laugh. "I can see we're going to get on like old friends, Lord Carnell."

"Lord?"

" My nickname for you , see? All right?"

"If it pleases you."

"Good. Good. What a card you are, Jerry! I think our association's going to be very profitable indeed."

"Profitable?"

He slapped Jherek heartily on the back. "In what you might call a spiritual sense, I mean. A friendship, I mean. Come on, we'll get back to my gaff on the double and soon have you fitted up like the toff you most undoubtedly are!"

Bemused but beginning to feel more hopeful, Jherek Carnelian followed his young friend through a maze of dark and foggy streets until they came at last to a tall, black building which stood by itself at the end of an alley. Several of the windows were lit and from them came sounds of laughter, shouts and, Jherek thought, voices raised in anger.

"Is this your castle, Mr. Vine?" he asked.

"Well —" Snoozer Vine grinned at Jherek. "It is and it isn't, your lordship. I sometimes share' it, you might say with one or two mates. Fellow craftsmen, sir." He bowed low and gestured elaborately for Jherek to precede him up the broken steps to the main door, a thing of cracked wood and rusted metal, with peeling brown paint and, in its centre, a dirty brass knocker shaped like a lion's head.

They reached the top of the steps.

"Is this where we're to stay tonight, Mr. Vine?" Jherek looked with interest at the door. It was marvellously ugly.

"No. no. We'll just fit ourselves up here and then go on — in a cab."

"To Bromley?"

"Bromley later."

"But I must get to Bromley as soon as possible. You see, I —"

"I know. Love calls. Bromley beckons. Rest assured, you'll be united with your lady tomorrow."

"You are very certain, Mr. Vine." Jherek was pleased to have found such an omniscient guide in his quest. He was certain that his luck was changing at last.

"I am, indeed. If Snoozer Vine gives a promise, your lordship, it means something."

"So this place is —?"

"You might call it a sort of extraordinary lodging house —for gentlemen of independent means, sir. For professional ladies. And for children — and others — bent on learning a trade. Welcome, your lordship, to Jones's Kitchen."

And Snoozer Vine leaned past Jherek and rapped several times with the knocker upon the door.

But the door was already opening. A little boy stood in the shadows of the mephitic hallway. He was dressed entirely in what appeared to be strips of rag. His hair was greasy and long and his face was smeared with grime.

"Otherwise known," said the boy, sneering up at the pair, "as the Devil's Arsehole. 'Ello, Snoozer — who's yer mate?"

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.