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."