Chapter 3

Chapter 3: In Which More is Revealed as to Jack and Aleister's True Concerns, Emmeline and Alice Make Plans for a Journey, and Pankhurst is Beset By Bizarrely Delineated Heavy Weather.
(...to be pondered whilst listening to the excellent Hot Club of San Francisco and perhaps enjoyed with a cup of dark coffee with even darker chocolate.This is good 2:
'All My Troubles are Many,
But you're my needle & thread.
You got me walkin
On the tip of my toes
With my hat on the side
of my head.,,
  Freddie Cole)
'It will take some time I fear, while I study and compare the results of all the samples in toto,'Dr. Parsons assured her that definate confirmation and solutions were imminent.' I am deeply grateful to you, Miss Page for your trust in me. I shall not disappoint!' and with that, the doctor applied a cotton patch to her
arm where he had drawn her blood, gave her hand a pat and taking his testubes and physician's accoutrements with him, headed back to the laboratory below.
 'My friend, Aleister, does mean well, I assure you,'Jack sighed.'His bedside manner,however, could use some polish. How are you feeling, Miss Page? At all lightheaded?' Jack rose and went to pour tea for them both, returning with cups and biscuits.
'I, I am quite alright.It has been a long day, and a strange one.' Emmeline felt rather beside herself. Things had happened so fast and unexpectedly. She seemed to feel as though she had just awoken from a confounding dream. Crowley House. Yes, how odd it seemed to find herself here, inside...
Jack realized she still wasn't quite herself.'Do take some tea, Emmeline, and a bite of biscuit. You need the sugar, and hydration. Please,' he adjured.
Em obeyed,still feeling adrift.The refeshment helped somewhat.
 ', I must confess I would be interested in seeing this 'alchemists workshop' you have secreted below sometime,' she admitted with a small smile.
'Sometime. However, I believe you have had enough excitement for one day! We have
a small trap here I will take you home in, if I may.'
Emmeline allowed as how that would probably be best.
It was nearing twilight, the last glow of early December still lambent in the West as Jack led the handsome bay gelding to the light trap that was to convey them back to Emmeline's humble residence, a top floor suite of rooms she rented from her friend Alice Stein, who had inherited the house upon her husband Frank's tragic passing.
 'But do let me know as soon as you have any news...those unfortunate victims of that ill-conceived venture!It is incumbent on the library now to see this whole wretched affair settled somehow.Ohh...that Director Dickman! And that rapscallion Poncey Winebar, who is in league with him! What I could do to them both...'she fumed.
Jack barked out a laugh. 'Poncey...what?' He took Emmeline's hand helping her up and into the carriage. 'You seem to be feeling more yourself. I am fond of ladies with abit of ginger in their comportment, as well as their hair...'he smiled as
he eyed her straying locks, now scarlet in the glow of sunset.
Em was having none of that. She was too deeply concerned in this whole unfortunate matter. 'Oh, Percy Winebar, the City Councilman...'Poncey' we call him, those of us who know what he really gets up to, with city funds!...Now isn't the time or place for political digression. I admit I have had quite a day, Jack...'She caught herself. 'Mr. Van Horn.'
'Jack.' he insisted as she settled into the carriage and he took his place on the driver's seat beside her. And thus they traveled ,off into the sunset...
                                  . . . . . . .
Meanwhile, back at Crowley House...
Aleister Parsons was just making his ablutions after setting his lab back in order. He heard Jack return upstairs and smiled to himself...this was going to be easier than we'd thought, thanks to our Jack he mused. Ah, what it is to be young. 'Picayune balderdash, as they would say...' he decided at last, and removing his labcoat, extracted a thin cigarillo from his breastpocket as he headed back up to the parlor.
'I say, Jack, had enough of tea? Join me in a celebratory brandy.' Parsons advanced upon the cutglass decanter and poured them each a snifter and set them on the mantlepiece to warm.
Jack entered the parlor scratching his hair, muttering something that sounded like 'poncey winebar..' and laughing to himself. 'What's that Jack?' asked Aleister, striking a lucifer and puffing on his cigarillo.
 'Oh, nothing. Aleister, I say old son, you are getting the hang of the lingo of this era, although I'm not sure they ran baselines back then, before electronics held sway over steam power...' his tone was low and he hoped expressed enough of a warning edge.
'Oh, yes, well, I doubt if our Emmeline will be much troubled by it for the nonce,' Parsons cocked an eyebrow whilst he took a sip of brandy. 'how's that? I am trying my best.You are to be our liaison here, while I am to be our...hm, Sherlock Holmes, shall we say?'he puffed, quite chuffed at his self-congratulatory comparison.
Jack flopped down onto the sofa, 'Doctor Watson, more like, and yes I allude to the Nigel Bruce character.'Jack grinned wickedly.
 'I should serve this to you over your swelled head, young rake.'Aleister took up the glasses and offered one to Jack. 'But, instead join me in a toast to our
successful mission! It is practically assured at this point, you'll agree!'
'Oh, really?'Jack took the proffered brandy.'And what do you base this eager assumption on?'
'On YOU, dear boy. To victory! By the solstice we shall have what we came for and can then return to our own temporal universe...Sol Invictus!' Parsons clicked glasses with Jack and drank deep of the amber libation.
Jack took a cautious sip.'You can't be serious. This will take time, Aleister!
Emmeline Page is not just some young slip of a guileless girl.She is rather worldly, in her way. In her time. She isn't to be easily persuaded...'
'Indeed not? I found her so...'Parsons took the seat by the fireside that Emmeline had vacated earlier. 'Oh, she is intelligent alright! And forward-thinking for a small town lady. But hardly worldy-wise as yet? I think she is fond of you, Jack. Of us, I'll venture to say.' Parsons puffed and flicked his ash into the fire, satisfied with his tidy presumptions.
'I'm not so sure...'Jack stared pensively into the fire.'She seems reluctant to, well, to get to know me better. To warm to me.'
'You're simply used to modern girls Jack.' Parsons flicked again, dismissively.
'No, it isn't that. I don't think.'Jack sighed and raised his glass, then paused,
'I hope she's not involved with anyone at the moment. That could complicate matters.'
'"Poncey Winebar"...?'Aleister grinned wolfishly, the cigarillo clamped in his jaws.
'God, no!'Jack laughed.'You wouldn't believe the small-town political villainy
here in little old Pankhurst! Lord, but people never change...only for the worse.'Jack swallowed the rest of his drink.
'That's partly what we have come here to change, old boy.'Parsons stood and began to pace the room slowly.' If all goes well tonight, and I believe it will, we shall have the answer to Emmeline's quandry as well as her blood sample.I like to think I handled that endeavor quite neatly.'
'It was a risk!I couldn't believe you just waltzed in here demanding the girl's blood for crapssake!'Jack sat up and leaned his head into both hands, rubbing his eyes with his palms as if to drive out all memory of the doctor's rashness.
'It worked. You have to remember the zeitgeist of this era. A man's word, a doctor's word, carried some weight with women back then!'Parsons stabbed his cigarillo in the air. 'We got the bloody sample. That's the main thing.'
'You're getting your ash on the rug,'Jack said and exited the parlor.
                              . . . . .
Back at Alice's...
The two friends are sharing cheese and port in Alice's sitting-room. Alice is availing herself of some dark Belgian chocolates as well, surreptitiously she believes, as she has instructed Emmeline to be firm with her in her ah, addiction. It could be nothing else, decides Alice, for surely she was at the mercy of Belgians and their nefarious chocolatiers...Alice munched rapturously, contemplating such foreign intrigue...'perhaps, with just a hint of ginger...'Alice gulped. Had she actually said that aloud?
'What? Ginger? Et tu, Alice?...'Em smiled lazily and took a sip of the tawny port, staring into the fire beginning to burn low now.
Alice leapt up and placed another log on the fire, 'A touch more port?' she enquired, hoping to distract Em from Alice's chocolate faux pas.
'I'm fine, Al.' Emmeline sighed and leaned her head on her hand.'I'm sorry, what were you saying? Something about ginger?'
Blast it.Quick now Alice, something about a new recipe...'Oh, I was just contemplating making some gingerbread. It's a fine tradition for the holiday season. What do you think? I rather fancy a triple-ginger treat: powdered, grated raw and candied, all added in the mix!"
'Sounds delicious. Something for the Solstice, what?'Em finished the rest of her port and frowned. 'Such a day. It seems odd to be thinking of traditions and celebrations...everything has been such a ruddy mess of late.'
'We do what we can,'replied Alice.' You and I, both. And now your friends, Mr. Van Horn and Dr. Parsons are here to help as well. Step by step, pas a pas, n'est ce pas, mi amiga? Meanwhile, life goes on. And the holidays are soon on our doorstep.At least we'll be closed then and can take a well-deserved break from the madness at work.'
Em smiled at her friend.'That's Oc, French and Spanish all in one scentence...a new record even for you, Alice cher.'She sighed and stretched.'We need a break, that's sure.Oh, you know, there was something here in the paper, where was it?'Emmeline reached for the Pankhurst Courier and began leafing through the pages. 'Here it is! What do you think Alice!' Emmeline gave her friend a mischevious smile.'Listen to this: 'Direct from the Music Halls of London! Don't miss the Comedy and Musical Stylings of the Dashing, the Debonaire, the Daring-- Jackie (the Cavalier Canary!) Changeling!--Along With the Internationales!Now playing at Mendation's Theatre in San Francisco!'
'Emmeline!'Alice stopped with her cheese bit in mid-air,'You can't be serious!
Jackie Changeling is a, a masher! Tres' scandalous, ma chere!And Mendation's is a
theatre of some, ah, questionable repute...!' Alice bit into her cheese forcefully.
'Exactly.'Em leaned back and studied the paper with a satisfied air.'It will be just the break we need. Alice, admit you long to get away for awhile! I know I do. Just to shake the dust of this provincial town from my boots and kick up my heels a bit. Just a bit,' she finished, looking at Alice, her eyebrow raised hopefully.
Alice leaned forward and took the paper from Em.'Let me see that.When is it playing again? Hm...it will be playing through the Solstice. Perfect for us.
A full-moon the 21st you know!'Alice snuck another chocolate from her pocket and chewed thoughtfully.
Emmeline hadn't noticed. She was staring into the fire contemplatively. 'You know you want to, Al. We haven't been to the City in donkey's ears. It'll be fun!
I've heard Jackie's show is a riot! I could certainly use a laugh.'
Alice sighed and folded the paper.'I, as well. Oh, fine then, you have me convinced. But if we see anyone we know there, we're finished!'
'Oh truly? And if we see anyone we know, they're finished as well!' Em and Alice
laughed together, relaxing finally as they contemplated an end to the encroaching cabin-fever of wintertime, the fire hissing softly as the embers fell and night approached stealthily on little bat-feet.
                                  . . . . . .
As the half-moon rose over the city's esplanade, two figures were silhouetted against the dusky skyline. One seemed to be carrying something and would pause occasionally as he lifted it to eye-level and brought it to bear upon the playing field. It would seem to be a sort of telescope, and he swept it across the park slowly, finally stopping, and handed it over to the other man, who repeated the exercise. They both seemed to focus upon one area in particular and
gave soft exclamations whenever their gaze happened to alight on whatever it was they alone seemed to view through the instrument.
This odd behavior continued for several minutes until a patrolman appeared at the park's opposite end, making his rounds it would seem, and began to head their way. Upon seeing the officer, the two men fit the scope back into it's carrying case and exited the scene, walking briskly across the street to the library building where their carriage had been waiting.A burley gent sat hunched over the driver's seat and urged the horse forward to meet them. They sprang up into the trap and away they went toward the outskirts of town, albeit seemingly not in any great rush to do so.
Down Crowley Lane the little trap headed and at Crowley House it found it's home.
While Yeats took the cart to the stable, Jack and Aleister entered the house and
went into the parlor where Parsons set the instrument case down on the side table while Jack stoked the now-dying fire.
'Cold as the devil's ankles out!' Parsons declared,'Damn glass kept fogging. But, you could see them, and no mistake, eh?'
'I always assumed the devil had hot...ankles,'Jack said poking the fire.'But, oh yes. The scope works beautifully. I'm glad we brought it along.' He took a seat near the hearth. 'You've been awfully close about things, Al. Why don't you 'fess up now that you've finally proven what until now was just your hypothesis, I assume?'
Parsons was rubbing his hands and hovering over the fire. He smiled to himself, but said nothing. He looked toward the back of the house as he heard a door shut.
'That'll be Yeats. I'll just get us all some coffee brewing...'
'Aleister...'began Jack, shaking his head.He looked into the fire and smiled. He knew Parsons loved to play the scene to it's fullest and relished the suspense he knew he generated. The bastard, thought Jack, with admiration.They'd been friends many years and Jack knew Aleister well.Al would drag out the denouement as long as he thought he could get away with it.

Presently Parsons returned to the parlor, bearing a coffee pot and mugs toward the hearth. Pouring for them both, he took a long drink of the bracing beverage and wandering over to the French doors, pulled the curtains aside. 'Beastly weather,as the natives might say.Now it seems to be gathering storm-clouds...is there to be snow next..?' Aleister seemed to be talking to himself .so pensive the tone.
Jack was having none of this small talk. 'Al, will you just come out with it? What was it that we saw in the park? And what does it have to do with those injured at the tourney? I don't want to hear about the weather.'
'You should. My gods! Oh bloody hell! This looks like...Dammitol! I feared this might happen but not this soon! Jack, yalla!' Parsons waved him over to the window, lapsing into the Moroccan Arabic that they both were familiar with in
happier times.
'What is it now?' Jack pulled apart the curtains and beheld the oddest sight that the challenging day had impressed upon them yet: in place of the formerly star-studded heavens, the sky was filling with dark, roiling thunderheads that appeared to move as if speeded up with time-lapse photography.A sickly sort of lime-green hue pervaded their edges and the distant echo of low thunder could now be detected.'Aleister...you don't think that,-is it-?'
Just then, the clouds became adumbrant of a certain deliquescence. A clap of thunder exploded above them, as the sky, dehiscent with a center of rosy cerise,
suddenly shot forth a  crimson vortex to the ground below, just scant kilometers from the house. Another thunder-clap, and all went dark. Jack and Aleister looked at each other in a state of numb shock. Then, slowly, the sky began to return to a semblance of normalcy. The stars were out, with no clouds present. There was no sign of the other-worldly tempest that had just delivered such a sneak-attack on the senses.
At this juncture, Yeats appeared at the parlor door. 'I am assuming we will all  be adjourning to the stable now?'
  Jack looked round, his eyes reflecting moonlight like a statue.                  'yes and bring the black roses.'
Parsons had but one word. And that word was: 'Flubber!'

                                    . . . . .
O yes ! Perhaps by this point:
The Players, Chapter 3
goodguys:
Miss Emmeline Page,All-American Revolutionary Librarian!
Jack Van Horn - Time Traveler/Inventor
Alice Stein - widow of late Frank N.- Em's Colleague & Best Pal
Dr. Aleister Parsons - Jack's colleague and partner in Time;Head of Crowley House
'Yeats' - Dr. Parsons's Bodyguard, Valet & all-round Gentleman's Gentleman
badguys:
Director Dickman - Pankhurst City Library
Percy (Poncey) Winebar - City Councilman
El Juan Flubber - ArchNemesis, Villain & All-Round Nogoodnik *('You will call me:
El Juan!')