Bob Winkle flicked a penny at the first beggar to approach their table and set him guarding their little space so they could talk uninterrupted.

Riley sighed and rubbed his distended belly. “I am full as a prince on his birthday,” he declared.

Chevie was less stuffed, having ignored ninety percent of what was offered to her.

I cannot stay here, she thought. My cholesterol count would kill me in a week.

“Okay, gents,” she said, slapping the table with purpose, “we should draw up our plans before you guys get blind drunk.”

Bob Winkle snorted. “Drunk on beer? I ain’t been beer drunk since I were ten.” He grabbed the rest of the black bread from the plate and shoved it into his pockets. “I better go and look to the mare. You two do your good-bye cuddling, and I’ll be back to bring whoever’s going to the Orient. I suppose there ain’t much more than splinters left of that conjuring equipment me and the boys ferried over earlier.”

Winkle dodged down the street, eyes and ears open for bluebottles.

“That guy will land you in trouble,” warned Chevie.

“Well, he won’t be spending his waking hours trying to murder anyone, or his sleeping hours dreaming of death.”

“Maybe so. But I still think you should come back with me. A part of you belongs in the twenty-first century.”

Riley sighed. “But a part of me is here. I have a half brother still living somewhere. Perhaps in Brighton? With Bob Winkle’s help, maybe I can find him.”

“You can afford Winkle’s help?”

Riley shrugged. “For the time being. I know where Garrick kept his cash. I suppose the theater is mine too.”

“So you will search for your brother?”

Riley pulled the magician’s cloak tight around his shoulders. “I am a magician now. I shall put a troupe together and enjoy the theater life until I find Ginger Tom. Perhaps he knows my Christian name.”

Chevie’s eyes were downcast. “Yeah, I bet he does.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the final Timekey left behind by the hazmat team. “The team and their gear went down with the house, but I had Bob’s boys collect their Timekeys while they were setting up the mirror trap, so, if you ever change your mind...”

Riley hooked the lanyard around his neck. “Thank you, Chevie. But this is my century, and I belong here.”

Chevie wagged a finger. “Never say never, right?”

“Yes, you are correct. There may come a time when I need to escape.”

“It’s preprogrammed, set up already, so all you have to do is press the button. Make sure the four quadrants light up, or you’ll end up stuck in the wormhole with you-know-who.”

“I will be certain to check.”