The Map of Chaos (Trilogía Victoriana #3)(185)

“You can always count on the help of Scotland Yard’s Special Branch in this world, Doctor Ramsey,” Sinclair assured him.

“Thank you, Captain. Inspector Clayton, you told me just now that Sir William Crookes designed those splendid columns you used to imprison Rhys.” Clayton nodded. “Good. I believe I have some unfinished business with my old friend, whom I let down in the past, and to whom I have a great deal of explaining to do—a very great deal.” Ramsey looked absentmindedly up at the sky. “There is so much to be done! The Church of Knowledge should change its name, perhaps to the Church of Dreams . . .”

Clayton cleared his throat.

“Speaking of dreams, Doctor. When I fainted in the Chamber of Marvels . . . well, perhaps I ought to tell you first that during my fainting fits I frequently dream about a world where . . . well, it is difficult to explain. The point is that in that world the Day of Chaos also took place today . . . and I, er . . . I told someone from there about everything that was happening here.”

“I am aware of your dreams, Inspector.” Ramsey grinned. “And believe me, there is much I have to tell you about the important part they played in the final victory. When I assert that the ability to dream is what saved your world, I assure you I am not simply using a poetic image . . . Rest assured I shall happily to explain it all to you, as well as the excellent use we made of an old blood sample of yours . . .” Clayton’s bewilderment caused Ramsey’s smile to broaden. “But there will be plenty of time for that . . . What do you want to know now, my dear chap? Whether that someone will remember everything because she had been in touch with the Supreme Knowledge? Whether the curse of your fainting fits is in some way related to the cronotemia virus? Whether you will be able to carry on jumping mentally to that other world now that there has been no epidemic?”

“I . . . well, I would be glad if you answered all those questions, but what I really wanted to know is . . . whether an Executioner could take me to the world of my dreams. In body as well as in mind, I mean.”

Ramsey looked straight at Clayton for a moment and then shook his head regretfully.

“My dear chap, whatever world she ends up in, she will always be a monster; you know that. And I am afraid that if you went to any of her worlds, your own nature would become as monstrous as hers . . . I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you can ever be happy together, because the worlds you come from are too different. Perhaps the love between you can exist only in dreams.”

If what Ramsey said wounded Clayton, no one could have detected it from the slight flutter of his eyelids. All of a sudden, Doyle stepped forward.

“But it would be possible to take someone to another world that is similar to this one—isn’t that so?” he said, grabbing Murray’s arm and thrusting him forward.

Ramsey nodded. After another gentle prod from Doyle, Murray looked at him, puzzled, for a few moments before suddenly reacting.

“J-Just a minute . . . ,” he stammered. “Are you saying that . . . if I asked one of those giants in black to take me to a world where my beloved is still alive . . . he would? Is that really possible?”

“We can try, Mr. Murray, we can try, although . . . ,” Ramsey started to say.

“Did you hear that, George?” Murray interrupted, his face flushing. “And you, Jane? I can search for the Emma in the mirror . . . I can find her, Arthur!”

“First I must study the fabric of the multiverse,” Ramsey explained calmly, “and find out if the Executioners have regained full use of their canes. In fact, I was thinking of going to my club right now, as I am sure some of my colleagues are already there, keen to have the first of what will be many meetings, since those of us who come from the Other Side have a Great Exodus to prepare. And so I think the time has come for me to bid you farewell. Mrs. Wells, gentlemen, we shall meet again soon, I am sure. Mr. Murray, if you would like to accompany me, perhaps we can discuss the details of your possible trip on the way.”

For a moment, everyone thought Murray was going to fling his arms around the doctor and kiss him. Fortunately, he seemed to stop himself just in time.

“Certainly!” he declared excitedly. “Tell me, if everything is in order, could I leave immediately?”

“I don’t see why not, if that is what you want.”

“It is.”

And never, in any of the infinite worlds, were two words spoken more sincerely. After that pronouncement, Murray turned to his friends to say his good-byes while Ramsey did the same with Sinclair and Clayton.

“Arthur . . . ,” Murray murmured, eyes moist as he went over to his friend.

“I know, I know . . . you don’t need to thank me. I promised you I would find a way to reach the Emma in the mirror, and I have been as good as my word.” Doyle beamed with satisfaction, thrusting his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets.

“Well, I don’t think you deserve all the credit, but . . . bah, no matter.” Murray seized Doyle’s shoulders, as if he were trying to plump them up like cushions. “Thank you, Arthur. Thank you for everything. I don’t know if I will have a telephone where I am going . . . but let me know how you are telepathically from time to time.”

“That will be far more effective, given your servants’ disinclination to answer the telephone,” Doyle retorted.

Murray guffawed, and the two men shook hands cordially. Then Murray turned to Wells.