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The Journal of Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Extract Ten: In which we visit with an old friend and get the finest tea ever brewed on a steam-powered extrophohelioscope Wednesday, 01-Sep-1999 12:00:49
The Journal of Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Extract Ten In which we visit with an old friend and get the finest tea ever brewed on a steam-powered extrophohelioscope Phineas Halifax Quimby is without a doubt one of the brightest chappies ever to grace the Empire. Odd as a curate’s egg, of course, with his little eccentricities like the orange and green waistcoast with those smiling circular faces on it, and his encyclopaedic knowledge of the works of Jules Verne, Robert Louis Stephenson, and H G Wells, but sound as they come. First met him back during the Curious Affair of the Exploding Vicar and kept in touch with him for years after. As I recall it was 1901 when he first posited the possibility of using that remarkable substance he invented, the Ether of the Improbable, to actually break through the barriers of time. He’d been fascinated by the possibilities ever since he’d first witnessed me using my chronometer. Reasoned that since his Ether could mimic the properties of other substances by “the law of mutable probabilities” whatever that means (don’t pretend to be clever, and old Quimpot could lose me ten words into his expository lectures) then if I passed a chronal charge through it he could harness that and try a leap through time itself. Main problem was finding temporal co-ordinates to jump to. Eventually located distinctive signal almost a century into the future and aimed his steam-pumped sugar-fuelled exochronosledge towards it. Old Quimpot never would tell me if it worked or not, and never asked me for another chronal charge. Phineas disappeared a few months after that and none of us ever saw him again. Until now. As described, used pocketwatch to get Miss Asil and self out of tricky situation viz exploding volcano by sending distinctive temporal signature identical to the one old Quimpot had picked up back in the Earlies. Y’see, I’d finally worked out what had happened back then, at least in part. So when the EccentricEtherInvestigatorInventor! (as we sometimes called him in jest) appeared on his bicycle-euphonium contraption, Asil and I were able to hop on and get a dizzying ride through time/space back to the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and two. There we were, back in the great man’s workshop, just as I remembered it. Half-constructed gadgets strewn across workbenches, massive piles of popular periodicals and penny-dreadfuls covering every chair, and Quimpot’s ever-faithful assistant Fogherty wringing his hands in worry about his friend’s latest dangerous experiment. “Hello, Froggie, old wart!” I called out cheerfully as we shimmered into the room. Noticed Fogherty and Quimby staring. Was about to remonstrate with them, as while Asil’s catsuit was probably a trifle shocking to Victorian eyes a gentleman wouldn’t make the lady self-conscious, when I realised they were looking at me. Of course. Last time saw Mumphrey Wilton KBE was dapper young chap looking in late twenties. Now saw wheezing old buffer with out-of-control waistline and receding grey hair. Bit of a shock, time travel. Must admit seeing Quimpot and Foggers there like that brought a lump to own throat; but doesn’t do to show these things. “Mumph?” Froggie asked cautiously. “Of course it is, Fogherty, you young blemish!” I assured him. “Of course, for me it’s been a few years.” A few years! I was reminded that in this era Madge hadn’t even been born yet! Had to explain to Quimpot and Foggers that I’d hung up the pocketwatch in 1963 and had aged naturally alongside a Lady since that time. “Well, where are my manners?” EEII! declared, suddenly remembering in his absent-minded way that a lady was present. Hauled a big pile of papers off one armchair to allow Asil to sit. Set to work bleeding pressure from the pipes of his time-travelling contraption via little spigot. Turned out to be rather good tea inside tubing. Multiple uses, his gadgets always had. Poor Asil clearly a little bit boggled by all of this. Suggested we all dress for dinner and sort it out over a good meal at Simpsons’. My treat. No point in time-travelling if one can’t visit one’s favourite restaurants long after they’re gone and forgotten now, is there? Quimpot happened to have a lady’s evening gown handy for my amanuensis. Noticed it resembled the one worn by Lady Alicia Redmayne in the Affair of the Left Handed Corkscrew and the Launderette of Doom (which, by my calculations, must have happened only a few days before this), but didn’t comment. A gentleman doesn’t ask. Foggers a bit anxious about going out I thought. Asked Phineas if he thought it’d be safe. As if inspired by word safe, Quimpot opens small wall vault (after deactivating phlogiston defence system, of course) and removes small leather pouch to pocket. “Quite safe,” the inventor assures his companion. Excellent meal. Nowhere else but Simpsons’ can cure a chap of the phobia for boiled cabbage inculcated upon one from an early age at Preparatory Boarding School. And their mutton chop is quite frankly one of the seven wonders of the world! One bite brought back all those heady days of my relative youth, the bittersweet adventures that one has when one is innocent and believes the world is a place of adventure and opportunity! Only wished could have brought Madge to show her this. Still, Asil very charming companion and very excited to see late Victorian London. Asil obviously also very curious re whole time travel thingie and how I could have been around in 1902. Had to explain a bit to her about the chonometer and other gadgets I separated from that devil-woman who ran the Westminster Necropolis Company. Most often use pocketwatch, of course, and by now the old thing’s come to rather like me I suspect. It certainly never liked Her Evilness. Side effect of having pocketwatch is, of course, that one is immune to the effects of time. Stayed aged late twenties for damn near a century before found out it was more important to grow old with Madge. Would give up another thirty years for one more day with her. As I said, dinner excellent, but rather spoiled at cigars and brandy stage by arrival of little threatening note from mysterious Egyptian gentleman, threatening dire consequences if EEII! didn’t return the Star of Anushla to its sacred guardians immediately. Overcame Quimpot’s reluctance to talk business in front of a woman (something to be said for century of womens’ suffrage) and prised the story from him. Turns out that EEII! and the faithful Fogherty recently investigated series of gruesome strangulations done with centuries-old spice-dyed bandages. All the victims were archaeologist chappies, and a bit of digging (no pun intended – but it was rather good, don’t you think, if it had been deliberate) turned up that they’d all handled this gem dug up from a tomb in the Lower Nile Valley. EEII! spotted the hidden cultist, thwarted the plan to mummify the fair Lady Summerville (making creative use of a little Ether-driven vacuum pump to deal with the trained attack scorpions), and tied up the case. Was given the gem as a keepsake. Was, of course, little package he’d slipped in his pocket for safekeeping. Except that the dashed cultists kept on trying to get it back off him. And while he’d certainly have handed it over if they’d just asked nicely, it had become a bit of a point of honour (and here he cited three dozen literary examples of everybody from Nemo to Alan Quartermain to Lemuel Gulliver who’d have dug their heels in under those circumstances) since they were being such blighters about it. Blighters they were. Tried to ambush us as we hailed a hansom cab in the strand. Six vicious fellows with pointy weapons, all dressed in sacred mumbo-jumbo of vicious Eastern cult. Ambush plan failed as all adventurers in Victorian times know never to take the first nor the second carriage which presents itself. Hence rather alarming attack on poor old Lord Throgwharton who had taken first carriage, and embarrassing moment for Sir Marmaduke Upton and the young lady who was apparently his niece (rum goings on in that family is all I can say) and who had allegedly dropped her earring inside her bodice and required help retrieving it in the second cab. Cultists attempted spirited response, charging down road towards us. Bobby sounded whistle but cultists clearly hoping to butcher us before Peelers could arrive. Used pocketwatch to slow ‘em down enough for Asil to clobber them. Even hampered by skirts she had three of them down before they realised that a lady could be a threat. Gal’s very vigorous. Could tell Quimpot and Froggie were impressed. Dinged one round the ear with heavy pocketwatch myself and he lost interest in being ungodly. EEII! and Froggie had absolutely no problem taking one down each. Quimpot was a bit of a boxer back in college I believe, although a few years after my day. And always suspected Fogherty to be a good deal more competent than pretends. Play same trick myself, sometimes. Anyway, result was that bobbies arrived to drag away six blissfully reposing cult chappies, and good riddance to them (heathen cultists I mean. Can’t expect HM’s police force to be everywhere). Had bit of a brainwave. Agreed to return Star of Anushla for EEII!, but take it with me to 1999 first. Teach the cads a lesson but return the property as seemed proper, so to speak. IIEE! very taken with idea. Fogherty taken with idea of not having place crawling with cult assassins any more. Put a couple of chronal charges into Phineas’ gadget with a bit of a twinge. First one would get Asil and I back to our year of departure, with a bit of a modification to put us in Egypt to return the Star. Then we could get on with the ongoing mystery of the Hopkins plans. But the second charge… well, presumably that was for Quimby’s next journey, the one he never came back from. And it’s just not done to change the past, no matter how tempting it is to go back and meet Madge all over again. So I had to use the chronometer to put a temporal spin in the second phial of Ether, knowing that it would send the poor EccentricEtherInvestigatorInventor! off to an uncertain fate. Said goodbye again to two old friends, shook their hands, thumped their backs and told them they were stout. Enough said. So back to the present, with a simple delivery to make and then off the see how young Bautista is getting on. Can still taste that cabbage and mutton, though. Mumphrey; with thanks for the copious annotations from CrazySugarFreakChappie! |
| The Journal of Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Extract Ten: In which we visit with an old friend and get the finest tea ever brewed on a steam-powered extrophohelioscope (Mumphrey; with thanks for the copious annotations from CrazySugarFreakChappie!) (01-Sep-1999 12:00:49) |
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