Madman's Dance (Time Rovers #3)(50)

A few minutes later, a light tap on his door.

“John?”

“Come in, my dear,” he answered. He felt the need to refill his whiskey, but it would make no difference.

His wife was clad in one of his favorite gowns—the one that looked like violets in the spring. It fit her perfectly, contrasting with her silvered hair. She had been a beauty when she was young. She still was.

“What is wrong?” she asked, gliding to a chair. “What did Home Office want?”

“For me to allow Sergeant Keats an unfettered walk to the gallows.”

She froze. “Why in heaven’s name would they wish that?”

“The word has come down that I am not to mention the names of those degenerates whose cards were found in Miss Hallcox’s possession. Nor am I to mention that there are still explosives at large. Can you imagine such a thing?”

Sephora frowned. “But those are key points of your defence. You must be allowed to introduce an element of doubt, that her murderer could be any number of men given the woman’s sordid behavior.”

“Well, that defence is now useless.”

“But…that’s ridiculous!”

“I know. The butler may be a drunkard, but he did see someone in Keats’ form heading toward his mistress’ bedchamber. It had to be a Transitive, though it is appalling to think that one of us committed such a vile crime,” he replied.



Sephora fussed with a stray string on her cuff.

“I’m sorry to distress you so, my dear.”

“This, on top of what has happened to Jacynda, is almost too much to bear,” she said. “I intended to visit her, but this morning I received a message from Dr. Montrose. She has left London, for treatment.”

Wescomb gave into temptation and returned to the drinks cabinet for more whiskey.

~??~??~??~



2057 A.D.

TEM Enterprises

Boredom quickly set in. It’d been a day or so since the man with the flower had visited her and asked all those questions she couldn’t answer. The physician had been to see her, but he just muttered under his breath and made a lot of noises with his instruments.

Cynda studied the blue line on the machine. It was longer now. They told her that was a good sign. She swung a foot over the edge of the bed. Maybe they had a Mouse Lady here and she could follow her around. She’d like that.

When her feet touched the floor she waited for her head to pound, but it didn’t. Just a dull ache. The cold metal on her left wrist did bother her, so she gave the band a solid tug. It didn’t come off, and just continued to blink.

Chilly, she pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped it over her baggy top and pants. As she approached, the door opened on its own. She stepped back, and it closed. Forward, and it opened. She laughed and clapped her hands. This was fun.

Once through the door, something beeped and the thing on her wrist vibrated. She jumped back at the sensation, frantically jerking at the band. It was blinking more rapidly now. Maybe she should go back to the bed. Then it settled into a steady rhythm and the vibrating stopped.



She stuck her head out of the doorway again, looking both ways. No one challenged her, not like at the other crazy place. In fact, there was no one around at all.

Cynda headed down the hallway, dragging the blanket behind her. She paused near a window and stared out at a large courtyard bathed in brilliant sunlight. There was a wooden building in the middle of it, surrounded by white sand. At the very tips of the roof were strange figures with long tails.

“What are you?” she whispered. She wandered along until she found a door. It opened automatically. This time she wasn’t surprised when the band on her wrist vibrated.

“Come off,” she demanded, pulling on it. It wouldn’t budge. That would have to change.

Once outside, she tilted her face upward and sucked in the sun’s welcoming rays. This felt right. A cloud marched by. It was big and looked like a… She groaned. The word wouldn’t come. So many of them didn’t.

Lowering her eyes, she saw the sand. It reflected the light in a myriad of different colors, like a… Another word gone. She stepped onto the white surface. Something was wrong.

She took another step. Nothing happened. That puzzled her.

“Miss Lassiter?”

She turned, bulldozing sand with her toes. Behind her were two men: the one with the ponytail and the solemn one. Had the thing on her wrist told them she was here?

Cynda pointed at the wooden structure and stuck out her chin defiantly. “I am going there.”

The solemn one nodded his approval. “Spend as much time as you wish. If you want food, we will arrange to have it brought to you.”

She turned her back on them, intent on her destination.

“Do you think she knows what happened?” the other man asked.

“I doubt it.”



It didn’t matter if they talked about her. She just liked being outside. There was white sand that didn’t act right and a lot of blue above her. That was good. She sat on a square pillow, pulling the blanket around herself to keep warm. When she looked back the men were gone. She sighed in relief. Closing her eyes, she thought of kittens and string.

When it began to turn dark, the solemn one, the one who said his name was Morrisey, came for her. “Time to call it a day, Miss Lassiter.”