Becoming aware of Amelia's displeasure, and seeking to respond to events as she wished, Jherek recalled some Wheldrake.

Thus is the close upon us

(Corpse calls to corpse and chain echoes chain).

Now the bold paint flakes upon the cheek

(And our pain lends point to pain).

Now there are none among us

Need seek for Death's domain…

Captain Bastable joined in the last line, looking for approval not to Jherek but to Mrs. Underwood.

"Ah, Wheldrake," he began, "ever apt…"

"Oh, bother Wheldrake!" said Mrs. Underwood, and she stalked off in the direction from which she and Jherek had originally come, but she paused suddenly as a cheerful voice called out:

"There you are, Amelia! Sergeant Sherwood and I were just on the point of Woman's contribution to Sin. It would be worth having any comments, from the horse's mouth, as you might say."

"And damn you, Harold!"

She gasped at her own language. Then she grinned. "Oh, dear…"

If Harold had noticed he doubtless accepted her oath as further evidence of their situation. He smiled vaguely at her. "Well, perhaps later…" His pince-nez glittered so that his eye-sockets appeared to contain flame. Chatting, he and the police sergeant strolled on.

Jherek caught up with her. "I have offended you, my dear. I thought…"

"Perhaps I, too, am mad," she told him. "Since nobody else is taking the end of the world seriously, then it is evident that I should not, either." But she was not convinced.

"Yusharisp and the Pweelians take it seriously, dearest Amelia. And Lord Mongrove. But it seems to me that you have no real leaning in their direction."

"I do what I think is right."

"Yet it conflicts with your temperament, you would admit?"

"Oh, this is unfair!" She paced on. Now they could see the Pweelian spacecraft where they had left it. Inspector Springer and the Duke of Queens held their hands in the air.

Standing on three legs, Yusharisp, or one of his comrades, held an object in his fourth foot (or hand) with which he menaced Inspector Springer and the Duke of Queens.

"My goodness!" Amelia hesitated. "They are using force! Who would have suspected it?"

Lord Mongrove seemed put out by the turn of events. He stood to one side, muttering to himself. "I am not sure. I am not sure."

"We have decided (skree) to act for your own (roar) good," Yusharisp told the two men. "The others will be rounded up in time. Now, if you will kindly, for the moment, board the spaceship…"

"Put that gun away!" The ringing command issued from the lips of Amelia Underwood. Even she seemed surprised by it. "Does the end of the world mean the end of the Rule of Law? What point is there in perpetuating intelligent life if violence is to be the method by which we survive? Are we not above the beasts?"

"I think (skree) madam that you (yelp) fail to understand the urgency (skree) of the situation (roar)."

Yusharisp was embarrassed. The weapon wavered. Seeing this the Duke of Queens immediately lowered his hands.

"We (skrrreee) did not intend to continue to threaten anyone (roar) after (yelp) the immediate danger was (skree) avoided," said another Pweelian, probably CPS Shushurup. "It is not in (skree) our nature to approve of (skree) violence or (roar) threats."

"You have been threatening everyone since you arrived!" she told them. "Bullying us not, until now, with weapons, but with moral arguments which begin to seem increasingly specious to me and which have never convinced the denizens of this world (it is not mine, I might add, and I do not approve of their behaviour any more than do you), Now you give us evidence of the weakness of your arguments — you bring forth your guns and your bald threats of violence!"

"It is not (skree) anything like so (roar) simple, madam. It is a question of (yelp) survive or die…"

"It seems to me," she said calmly, "that it is you who simplify, Mr. Yusharisp."

Jherek looked admiringly on. As usual, the arguments were inclined to confuse him, but he thought Amelia's assumption of authority was magnificent.

"I would suggest," she continued, "that you leave these people to their own solutions to their problems, and that you do, for yourselves, whatever you think best."

"Lord Mongrove (yelp) invited our (skree) help," said CPS Shushurup in an aggrieved whine. "Do not listen (skree) to her (yelp), Yusharisp. We must continue (roar) with our work!"

The limb holding the gun became steadier. Slowly, the Duke of Queens raised his hands, but he winked at Jherek Carnelian.

Lord Mongrove's gloomy boom interrupted the dispute. "I have, I must admit, Yusharisp, been having second thoughts…"

" Second thoughts! " Yusharisp was beside himself. "At this (skree) stage!"

The little alien gestured with his weapon. "Look (skree) out there at that — that (roar) nothingness.

Can you not feel (yelp) the city breaking apart? Lord Mongrove, of all (skree) people, I would have thought that you (roar) could not change your mind. Why (skree) — why?"

The giant shuffled his feet in the rust and the dust. He scratched his huge head. He fingered the collar of his robe of funereal purple. "As a matter of fact, Yusharisp, I, too, am becoming just a jot bored with this — um — drama."

"Drama! Skrrreeeee! It is not a game (yelp) Lord Mongrove. You, yourself, said as (skree) much!"

"Well, no…"

"There, you see, Sergeant Sherwood. It cannot be argued any longer, I think, that there are no devils in Hell. Look at those chaps there. Devils, if ever I saw some!" It was Harold Underwood, emerging from behind the Pweelian's spaceship. "So much for the sceptics, eh? So much for the Darwinians, hm? So much, Sergeant Sherwood, for your much vaunted Science! Ha!" He approached Yusharisp with some curiosity. He inspected him through his pince-nez. "What a distortion of the human body — revealing, of course, the distortion of the spirit within." He straightened up, linking arms, again, with his disciple. "With luck, Sergeant Sherwood, we shall soon get a look at the Arch Fiend Himself!"

Nodding to those of the company he recognized, Harold Underwood wandered off again.

Mrs. Underwood watched her husband disappear. "I must say, I have never known him so agreeable. What a shame he could not have been brought here before."

"I wash my (skree) feet of you all!" said Yusharisp. He appeared to be sulking as he went to lean against the noxious side of his spaceship. "Most of them have run away, already."

"Shall we lower our hands?" asked the Duke of Queens.

"Do what you (skree) like…"

"I wonder if my men 'ave caught them Latvians yet," said Inspector Springer. "Not, I suppose, that it matters a lot now. On the other 'and, I 'ate to leave things unfinished. Know what I mean, Duke?" He looked at his watch.

"Oh, I do, very much, Inspector Springer. I had plans for a party that would have made all other parties seem drab, and I was about to embark on my new project — a life-size reproduction of the ancient planet, Mars, complete with reproductions of all its major cities, and a selection of different cultures from its history. But with things as they are…" He contemplated the blackness of infinity beyond the city, he contemplated the ruin within. "There aren't the materials any longer, I suppose."

"Or the means," Mongrove reminded him. "Are you sure, Duke, that you don't want to take part in this Salvation scheme?"

The Duke sat down upon a half-melted metal cube. "It doesn't have much to recommend it, dear Mongrove. And one cannot help feeling, well, interfered with…"

The cube on which he sat began to grumble. Apologetically he stood up.

"It is Fate which interferes with your useless idyll!" said Yusharisp, in some exasperation. "Not (skree) the people of Pweeli. We acted (roar) from the noblest of motives."

Once more losing interest in the conversation, Jherek made to lead Amelia away. She resisted his tugging hand for only a moment before going with him.

"The time-travellers and the space-travellers do not, as yet, seem to be aware of one another's presence," she said. "Should we tell them? After all, only a few yards separate them!"

"Let us leave them all, Amelia. Initially we sought privacy."

Her expression softened. She moved closer to him. "Of course, dear Jherek."

He swelled with pleasure.

"It will be so sad," she said a little later, in a melancholy tone, "to die, when we have at last both admitted our feelings."

"To die, Amelia?"

Something like a dead tree, but made of soft stone, started to flicker. A screen appeared in its trunk. The image of a man began to speak, but there was no sound. They watched it for a little while before continuing.

"To die?" he said.

"Well, we must accept the inevitable, Jherek."

"To be called by my first name! You do not know, Amelia, how happy you make me!"

"There seemed no further point in refusing you the true expression of my feelings, since we have such a short time together."

"We have eternity!"

"In one sense, possibly. But all are agreed that the city must soon perish."

As if to deny her words, a steady throbbing began to pulse beneath their feet. It had strength and signified the presence of considerable energy, while the glow from the surrounding ruins suddenly took on a healthier colour, a sort of bright blue.

"There! The city recovers!" Jherek exclaimed.

"No. Merely the appearance of recovery which always precedes death."

"What is that golden light over there?" He pointed beyond a line of still rotating cylinders. "It is like sunshine, Amelia!"

They began to run towards the source of the light. Soon they could see clearly what lay ahead.

"The city's last illusion," said Jherek. They were both overawed, for the vision was so simple yet so much at odds with its surroundings. It was a little grassy glade, full of wild flowers, warm and lovely in the sun, covering a space of only thirty feet or so, yet perfect in every detail, with butterflies, bees, and a bird perching in a delicate elm. They could hear the bird singing. They could smell the grass.

Hand in hand, they stepped into the illusion.

"It is as if the city's memory conjures up a final image of Earth at her loveliest," said Amelia. "A sort of monument."

They seated themselves on a hillock. The ruins and the livid lights were still plainly visible, but they were able to ignore them.

Mrs. Underwood pointed a little way ahead to where a red and white chequered cloth had been spread on the grass, under the tree. On the cloth were plates, flasks, fruits, a pie. "Should we see if the picnic is edible?"

"In a moment." He leaned back and breathed the air. Perhaps the scent of hyacinths he had detected earlier had come from here.

"It cannot last," she reminded him. "We should take advantage of it while we may." She stretched herself, so that her head lay in his lap. He stroked her hair and her cheek. He stroked her neck. She breathed deeply and luxuriously, her eyes closed as she listened to the insects, feeling the warmth of that invisible, non-existent sun upon her skin. "Oh, Jherek…"

"Amelia." He bent his head and kissed her tenderly upon the lips for the second time since they had come to the city, and without hesitation she responded, and his touch upon her bared shoulder, her waist, only made her cling to him the closer and kiss him more deeply.

"I am like a young girl," she said, after a while. "It is as it should have been."

He was baffled by this reference, but he did not question her. He merely said: "Now that you have called me by my first name, Amelia, does that mean that we are married, that we can…"

She shook her head sadly. "We can never — never be husband and wife. Not now."

"No?"

"No, Jherek, dear. It is too late for that."

"I see." Wistfully, he pulled up a blade of grass.

"The divorce, you see, has not taken place. And no ceremony binds us. Oh, there is much I could explain, but let us not waste the minutes we have."

"These — these conventions. They are important enough to deny us the expression of our love?"

"Oh, do not mistake me, my dear. I know now that those conventions are not universal — that they have no usefulness here — but you forget — for years I have obeyed them. I cannot, in my own self, rebel against them in so short a time. As it is, I quell a tide of guilt that threatens to flood through me."

"Guilt, again?"

"Yes, dearest. If I went so suddenly against my training, I suspect that I should break down completely. I should not be the Amelia Underwood you know!"

"Yet, if there were more time…"

"Oh, I know that eventually I should have been able to overcome the guilt … That is the awful irony of it all!"

"It is ironic," he agreed. He rose, helping her to her feet. "Let us see what the picnic can offer us."

The song of the bird (it was some sort of macaw) continued to sound from the tree as they approached the red and white chequered cloth, but another noise began to break through, a sort of shrilling which was familiar to both of them. Then, bursting from the gloom of the city into the sunlight of the illusion, Captain Mubbers, Rokfrug and the other Lat appeared. They were badly out of breath and sweating; they had something of the appearance of bright red, animated turnips. Their three pupils rolled wildly in their eyes as they sighted Jherek and Amelia and came to a confused halt.

"Mibix?" said Rokfrug, recognizing Jherek. "Drexim flug roodi?"

"You are still, I take it, pursued by the police." Amelia was impatient, more than cool towards the intruders, "There is nowhere to hide here."

"Hrunt krufroodi." Captain Mubbers glanced behind him as there came a thundering of boots and the dozen identically clad police officers, evidently as weary as the Lat, burst into the pastoral illusion, paused, blinked, and began to advance towards their quarry, whereupon Captain Mubbers uttered a strangled "Ferkit!" and turned at bay, ready to do battle against their overwhelming numbers.

"Oh, really!" cried Amelia Underwood. "Officer, this will not do!" She addressed the nearest policeman.

The policeman said steadily: "You're all under arrest. You might as well come quietly."

"You intend to arrest us, as well?" Mrs. Underwood bridled.

"Strictly speakin', ma'am, you've been under arrest from the start. All right, lads…" But he hesitated when two loud popping noises sounded, close together, and Lord Jagged of Canaria, the Iron Orchid upon his arm, materialized on the hillock.

Lord Jagged was resplendent in his favourite pale yellow robes, his tall collar framing his patrician features. He seemed in high spirits. The Iron Orchid, at her most stately and beautiful, wore billowing white of an untypical cut and was as happy as her escort.

"At last!" said Lord Jagged, apparently in some relief, "This must be the fiftieth attempt!"

"The forty-ninth, indefatigable Jagged," crooned the Orchid. "I intended to give up on the fiftieth."

Jherek ran towards his friend and his mother. "Oh, Jagged! Cryptic, magnificent, darling Jagged!

We have worried about you so much! And Iron Orchid, you are delicious. Where, where have you been?"

The kiss from Jagged's lips on Jherek's was less than chaste and was equalled by the Iron Orchid's.

Standing back from them, Mrs. Underwood permitted herself a sniff, but came forward reluctantly as the radiant Orchid beckoned.

"My dears, you will be so delighted by our news! But you seem distraught. What has been happening to you?"

"Well," said Mrs. Underwood with some pleasure, "we are currently under arrest, although the charge is not altogether clear."

"You seem to have a penchant, you two, for falling foul of the law," said Jagged, casting a languid eye over the company. "It's all right, constable. I think you know who I am."

The leading constable saluted, but stood his ground. "Yes, sir," he said uncertainly. "Though we do

'ave orders, direct from the 'Ome Secretary…"

"The Home Secretary, constable, takes his advice from me, as no doubt you are aware…"

"I 'ad 'eard something to that effect, sir." He fingered his chin. "What about these Latvians?"

Lord Jagged shrugged. "I don't think they offer a threat to the Crown any longer."

Jherek Carnelian was overjoyed by his friend's performance. "Excellent, dear Jagged! Excellent!"

"And then, sir, there's some question about it being the end o' the world," continued the constable.

"Don't concern yourself with that, my good man. I'll look into it, the first chance I get."

"Very well, sir." As one in a dream, the policeman signed to his colleagues. "We'd better be getting back, then. Shall we tell Inspector Springer you're in charge now, sir?"

"You might as well, constable."

The policemen wandered out of the illusion and disappeared in the darkness of the city, leaving the Lat somewhat nonplussed. Captain Mubbers looked enquiringly up at Lord Jagged but received a dismissive glance.

Rokfrug had found the food and was cramming his mouth with pie. "Groodnix!" he said. "Trimpit dernik, queely!"

The rest of the Lat seated themselves around the cloth and were soon feasting with gusto.

"So, most miraculous of mothers, you knew all along where to find Lord Jagged!" Jherek hugged her again. "You played the same game, eh?"

"Not at all!" She was offended. "We met quite by accident. I had, it is true, grown so bored with our world that I sought one which would prove more agreeable and some, I'll admit, were interesting, but the Morphail Effect gave me difficulties. I kept being thrown out of one era and into another almost before I knew it. Brannart had warned me, but your experiences had caused me to disbelieve him." She inspected her son from head to foot and her look towards Amelia Underwood was not as critical as it had once been. "You are both pale. You need to replenish your bloom."

"Now we bloom, opulent Orchid! We feared so much for your well-being. Oh, and since you have been gone the world has grown dark…"

"Death, we are told, has come to the universe," put in Amelia, returning the Iron Orchid's glance.

Lord Jagged of Canaria smiled a wide, soft smile. "Well, so we are returned at an opportune moment."

"It depends what you mean by opportune, Lord Jagged." Amelia Underwood pointed out into the darkness. "Even the city dies now."

"Of all our friends," Jherek continued sorrowfully, "only Lord Mongrove and the Duke of Queens survive. The rest are memories only!"

"Memories are sufficient, I think," said Jagged. "They will do."

"You are callous, sir!" Mrs. Underwood adjusted a button at her throat.

"Call me so."

"We expected you to be waiting for us, Jagged," said Jherek Carnelian, "when we returned to the End of Time. Did you not promise to be here — to explain?"

"I arrived, but had to leave again almost at once. Through no fault of my own, I was delayed. My machine failed me. I had to make some experiments. It was in the course of these experiments that I happened to meet your mother and she prevailed upon me to satisfy a whim."

"A whim?" Mrs. Underwood turned away in disgust.

"We are married," said the Iron Orchid almost demurely. "At last."

"Married. I envy you! How did this come about?"

"It was a simple ceremony, Jherek, my juice." She stroked the white material of her gown. It seemed that she blushed.

Curiosity made Amelia Underwood turn back.

"It was in the fifty-eighth century, I think," the Iron Orchid said. Their customs are very moving.

Simple, yet profound. The sacrifice of the slaves had, happily, become optional by the middle of what I believe they called the 'Wet Prince' period. We had little else to do, you see, since we were waiting for the right moment to try to transfer…"

"Sans machine," said Jagged, with a certain quiet pride. "We have learned to travel, perforce, without gadgetry. It was always theoretically possible."

"By a coincidence difficult to credit," she continued, "Lord Jagged found me a prisoner of some extra-terrestrial creatures temporarily in control of the planet —"

"The Flerpian Conquests of 4004-6," explained Jagged in an aside.

"— and was able to rescue me before I could experience an interesting method of torture they had devised, where the shoulders are exposed to —" She broke off. "But I digress. From there we continued to move forward as best we could, by a series of stages. I could not, of course, have done it on my own.

And some of the natives were obstructive. But your father handled them so well. He is very good with natives, don't you think?"

Jherek said in a small voice. "My father?"

"Lord Jagged, of course! You must have guessed!" She laughed fulsomely. "You must have guessed, my egg!"

"I thought there was a rumour concerning Sweet Orb Mace…"

"Your father wished to make a secret of it, for reasons of his own. It was so long ago. He had some scientific obsession, then, concerning his own genes and how best to perpetuate them. He thought this method the most satisfactory."

"As it proved." Lord Jagged put a slim-fingered hand upon his son's head and affectionately ruffled his hair. "As it proved."

Again, Jherek embraced Lord Jagged. "Oh, I am so pleased, Jagged, that it is you! This news is a gift that makes all the waiting worthwhile." He reached to take his shy Amelia's hand. "This is, indeed, the happiest of days!"

Mrs. Underwood was reserved, though she did not deny him her hand. She stood in that smiling company and she tried to speak. She failed, and now the Iron Orchid hugged her. "Tell me, dearest Amelia, that you are to be our new daughter!"

"As I explained to Jherek, it might have been possible."

"In the past?"

"You seem to forget, Iron Orchid, that there is nothing but the past. There is no future left to us."

"No future?"

"She is quite right." Lord Jagged took his hands from his son's shoulders.

"Oh!" A knuckle rose to Amelia's mouth. "I had hoped you brought a reprieve. It was foolish…"

Arranging his yellow robes about him, Lord Jagged of Canaria seated himself upon the hillock, indicating that they should join him. "The information I have is probably not altogether palatable," he began, "but since I promised an explanation when last we parted, I feel obliged to fulfil that promise. I trust I will not bore you." And he began to speak.