of a voyage unless overridden.â He did not show them the special key which would shut off the RRL.
âBut why would you want the damned thing to return?â asked Stephenson.
âWhat if you were injured during flight and incapable of fending for yourself? Wouldnât you want the time machine to take you back home?â
âYou mentioned that the machine stays where it is during a trip,â commented Grinnell. âIâm not sure I understand. Could you explain how that is possible?â
H.G. smiled. âIt moves only along the fourth dimension. It always occupies the same space, but if it is not in todayâs space, then you may find it in yesterdayâs space or tomorrowâs.â
âThen it does indeed disappear?â
âOf course. For the duration of a particular jaunt through time.â
The guests murmured.
âIn a fortnight I shall want you all present for the maiden voyage.â
Suddenly, Smythe was on his feet again. âThe maiden voyage? Come off it, Wells!â He laughed derisively. âIf you persist in these discourses, the only trip youâll be taking is to Bedlam!â
âHear, hear!â Preston concurred, nodding his head and clapping his hands.
But before H.G. could reply, Mrs. Nelson opened the hall door and stuck her head into the room.
H.G. turned. âYes, Mrs. Nelson, what is it?â
âScotland Yard is at the door, Mr. Wells.â
âWhat the devil?â H.G. exclaimed with surprise. Then he briefly faced his guests. âIf you will excuse me, gentlemen.â
As soon as he had left the room, his guests were out of their seats, talking excitedly and moving spasmodically around the room.
Stephenson quickly started for the door that led to the kitchen. Before he arrived there Smythe intercepted him with the air of a foreign minister who is bewildered over the sudden defection of a staunch ally.
âJohn!â
Stephenson turned.
âYou havenât taken Wells seriously, have you?â
The surgeon frowned impatiently at the distraught economist. âIf I have?â
âWell, Iâm beginning to think that heâs gone stark, raving mad.â
âWells is no more insane than you or I.â
âBut surely you donât believe a time machine possible!â
âOf course I do.â He smiled thinly. âIs not necessity the mother of invention?â
Smythe took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. He put his spectacles back on, raised one finger and was about to ask a question. But he never uttered the words.
Stephenson was gone.
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At the front door beside Mrs. Nelson, H.G. listened impatiently to the detectives as they wearily and methodically explained the nature of their visit. He was reminded of his brief and unpleasant tenure as a drapery apprentice when the foreman was spelling out why he had to account for every minute of his time during the day.
When Adams was finished, H.G. replied with unusual venom, for he detested the presence of a unilateral authority. âThat is absolutely ridiculous, Inspector! I am not in the business of murder, and I do not entertain those who are!â
âA suspect was seen in the neighborhood, sir.â
âWell, then look for him in the neighborhood!â
âOur instructions are to have a look inside every house in Mornington-Crescent. Even yours, Mr. Wells.â
âMy good man, I have guests!â
âAnd I have a warrant,â Adams replied sternly, then held up a writ signed by the sleepy clerk of Regentâs Court just a few hours ago. He gestured to his companion. âCome along, Duggan, letâs get on with it.â He entered the house and went upstairs, alert for whomever he might suddenly confront.
Duggan was so large that he had to stoop under the doorframe to get inside. And when H.G. started back for the library, he found himself restrained by one huge hand. Then Duggan gently
Alicia Danielle Voss-Guillén
Hilary Storm, Kathy Coopmans