She brought a vast design to pass

                 When Europe and the scattered ends

                 Of our fierce world did meet as friends

                 And brethren in her halls of glass.

                                      - Alfred Tennyson, "To the Queen (March

                                      1851)" (stanza omitted in later publications)



     The first rays of dawn peeked over the grove of trees onto the

dew-covered grass of the small clearing.  To the west hung a few gray

clouds with a menacing threat of rain.  Somewhere nearby the sound of a

stream noisily following its course could be heard.

     An odd trio walked toward the edge of the grove, leaving a tall blue

wooden box behind them.  Several paces ahead of his companions was an

older man wearing a broad grin as he took in the sights around him.  His

clothes, while clean, looked a bit worn.  The red bow-tie and the dusty

top hat both leaned at the same jaunty angle, and a curl of black hair

peeked out from under the hat's brim.  "Come along, come along!" he said

excitedly, gesturing back at the other two.

     "But you still haven't told us where we are!" the young woman shot

back as she desperately tried not to drag the hem of her long dress

through the morning dew.

     "I'm not going to spoil the surprise, am I?"  The man looked back at

her with a mischievous grin.

     The young man who walked next to her wore the kilt and tartan of a

traditional Scottish Highlander.  "He probably doesn't know himself,

Victoria," he muttered.

     Still, Victoria felt determined to figure out where the Doctor had

landed them.  The Doctor's TARDIS often seemed out of control, but today

the Doctor carried himself like someone who had arrived exactly where he

wanted to be.  Also, before they left the ship he had insisted she put on

her old clothes before changing into less threadbare clothes himself.

Even Jamie had donned better garments.

     From these sparse clues she reasoned that they were in Victorian

England where she had grown up.  Why else would she have to wear her old

clothes?  She had to admit, they seemed so constraining after wearing

twentieth-century fashions, though she allowed herself a brief flash of

vanity, reflecting that they still looked fetching on her.

     Beyond these clues, however, what?  Why was the Doctor being so

excited and secretive about where they had landed?  For being as old as

he claimed, the Doctor could certainly act childishly at times.

     At the edge of the clearing they followed a narrow path through the

trees.  The trees thinned out, and Victoria stopped abruptly, staring in

wide-eyed wonder.

     The Doctor watched her reaction and smiled broadly.  "Yes, it is

quite impressive, isn't it?"

     Victoria could only nod.  Off in the distance a huge glass structure

reflected the sun like a glittering jewel.  Crowds of people in elegant

Victorian attire moved toward it, while others gathered around the road

leading to the building.

     Jamie appeared similarly impressed by the huge shimmering edifice.

"What is it?" he gasped.

     "It's the Crystal Palace!" cried Victoria at last.  She'd barely

been old enough to remember when her father had taken her.  Then she

looked around, confused.  "But this isn't Sydenham, Doctor--"

     The Doctor was grinning broadly.  "Quite right.  It's Hyde Park."

     "The Great Exhibition?!" she exclaimed.  She gripped Jamie's arm,

lest she faint.  Jamie still looked puzzled.

     "Ah," the Doctor said.  "I forgot this is a bit after your time,

Jamie.  That building," he continued, pointing, "houses all the wonders

of science and industry from all over the world.  Quite impressive

really.  I've been here before, of course, but never on opening day--"

     "Opening day!" said Victoria excitedly.

     "Yes, the first of May, 1851.  I managed to find my old season

tickets, so we shouldn't have any trouble passing the day with foreign

royalty."  The Doctor pulled out his prized pocketwatch and glanced at it

hurriedly.  "My goodness, it's almost eight o'clock!  We'd better get

going-- the crowds will be thick as molasses soon and then we'll never

get through!"

     He took Victoria's arm and led her toward the Crystal Palace.

Jamie, with an exasperated sigh, struggled to keep up with them.

        *****

     In another part of Hyde Park, the younger bearded conspirator also

made his way toward the Crystal Palace.  He did not, however, stop to

take in the beautiful scenery, and was oblivious to the bustling mass of

people assembling to see the triumphal entry of the Queen.  His face

showed grim determination, as if nothing could divert him from his

course.  With every stride his hand hit against the weapon in the pocket

of his frock coat.

     The young man followed behind him, hoping he was just far enough

behind not to be noticed.  While his quarry probably wouldn't recognize

him, suspicion might be aroused if he saw the same red-haired young man

every time he glanced back.

     The conspirator approached the main entrance, and the young man had

to struggle not to lose him in the throng entering the Exhibition.

Suddenly he ran into a vagrant who was milling around looking for

handouts.  The coins in the vagrant's cup spilled out with a clatter.

     "Oh, I'm so sorry," the young man said, straining to keep the

conspirator in sight.  He watched the beggar scramble to pick the coins,

and for a moment he felt torn between helping him and continuing the

pursuit.  Finally, he bent down and scooped up the farthings and

ha'pennies, avoiding the ever-forward trampling of the crowd.

     "Thank ye, sir," said the vagrant with a gap-toothed grin after they

both straightened up again.

     A long look around made the young man wonder if he had made the

right choice.  The conspirator was nowhere in sight.

     He swore under his breath, added some of his spare change to the

vagrant's collection, and joined the crowd on their relentless path to

the entrance.

        *****

     The Doctor, Jamie, and Victoria made their way to the Crystal Palace

with little difficulty, and paused for some minutes to gaze at its

magnificent exterior.  A large vaulted transept bisected at a right angle

the rectangular nave of the building proper.  Flags of nations from all

over the world  flew in the wind from poles atop the structure.  A

definite feeling of weightlessness, of unreality, hung about the entire

Palace.

     Victoria stood mesmerized.  Their travels since she first entered

the TARDIS had taken them to wondrous places in the far future, but

this!  Something so recent in her childhood that people still discussed

and reminisced about it, and here she was, about to attend the opening

ceremonies!  For the first time Victoria thought that she truly felt the

wonder of time travel.

     The season ticket holders pressed against the doors, which opened

promptly at 9 o'clock to admit the flood of people anxious to see the

Exhibition's opening.  They rushed in like great waves, anxious to get

the best seats possible.

     Everyone had to sign in at different tables according to the numbers

on their tickets.  Excited, the Doctor excitedly pushed his way through,

muttering "excuse me" or "pardon me" to those he shouldered past.

     "We're going to lose him, lass," Jamie said with a frown.  He took

Victoria's hand to try to keep them together and went after the Doctor's

retreating form.

     For several minutes they feared they had lost him, but suddenly they

heard his distinct voice asking loudly, "What do you mean you can't let

us in?"

     Following the voice, they found the Doctor arguing with the small

man behind a sign-in table, who shifted nervously and cleared his

throat.  "Well, sir, you can see that these tickets have already been

accounted for."  He pointed a thin finger to a place on the

signature-filled page.

     "Really?  Let me see that."  The Doctor snatched the book from the

table and squinted at the names.  "Doctor and Mrs. J. Smith?  Miss Tegan

Jovanka?  Oh, dear!"  I know what that means, he thought-- an awkward

crossing of my own time line.  As the man at the table looked on

impatiently, he considered pulling out the other three tickets had had in

his pocket, but two of those were taken also, by a Doctor T. and Miss

Dorothy Lord.  This would prove difficult, he thought.

     Then he thought of Victoria.  Did they really expect him to deal

with the look of disappointment that would cross her face should they be

kicked out?  He rounded upon the man behind the table.  "Well, it must be

some sort of mistake!  Take a look yourself!"  He waved their tickets

under the man's nose.

     "Steady on, Doctor," Jamie warned.  The crowd around them was

beginning to look at them suspiciously, as were the two blue-jacketed

policemen standing nearby.

     The Doctor took a deep breath and focused an unwavering gaze on the

sign-in man.  "You can see there must be some kind of mistake, can't

you?"  His tone was soothing.  "It's all a mistake, isn't it?"

     The man nodded slowly, silently, his eyes never leaving the Doctor's.

     "You are going to let us in, aren't you?"

     The man nodded again, and motioned them through.

     "Thanks ever so much," said the Doctor with a large grin.  "Come

along, Jamie, Victoria."  He bustled his mystified companions in ahead of

him.

     "What did you do to him, Doctor?" Victoria asked.  She glanced back

to see the man shaking his head and looking dazed.

     "Just a little friendly persuasion," replied the Doctor.  "Now come

along!"  He sounded like a child impatient to get to the circus.

     The anxious crowd swept them back in and into the interior of the

Crystal Palace.  Jamie gasped in wonder-- even in all his travels with

the Doctor he had never seen anything so grand.  Above him the sun peeked

through the clouds and shone through the great barrel transept.  Several

towering oak trees nearly touched the roof.  Over the people he could see

a huge glass fountain, with water running from the top of it into a large

basin beneath.  A red silk canopy hung above a raised platform where a

large chair sat.  Policemen were blocking the platform, trying to keep

people off of it.

     "Yes, I remember now," the Doctor said.  "They were going to keep

the transept empty, but there were just too many people."  Suddenly the

crowd stopped and he ran into the man in front of him.

     The man turned.  He was tall, young, and fair-haired with an

impeccable white bow tie.  He beamed.  "Fancy meeting you here," he

said.  "Isn't time such a funny thing?"  His eyes moved onto Victoria and

Jamie.  "And it's good to see you both also."

     The Doctor started, then frowned.  "You used our tickets, you know."

     "The early bird catches the worm, eh?"  He looked around with a hint

of concern.  "You, ah, haven't seen Tegan or Nyssa about, have you?  We

seem to have been separated."  When the Doctor could only give a puzzled

look, the man added quickly, "No, of course you haven't.  Well, I'd best

go-- no sense in breaking rules more often than we need to."

     The man shook the Doctor's hand, and with a wink at a

confused-looking Jamie and Victoria, he lost himself again in the crowd.

     "Who was that?" asked Jamie after some moments.

     "Yes, I felt as though I knew him," Victoria said.

     The Doctor looked them up and down for a moment, as though

considering, then shrugged.  "Just an old friend that we haven't met yet,

that's all."  He surveyed around them.  "We'd better try the galleries--

things will be a bit tight down here.  This way, I think."  He led them

toward a large entry to a set of stairs, hoping he would avoid meeting

anyone else who found him all-too-familiar.

        *****

     In the galleries, the conspirator lay flat atop one of the machines

of industry.  With steady hands he assembled the weapon, just as he had

been taught.

     When it was together, he put his eye to the scope and made a sweep

of the thousands of people below him.  He paused for some moments on the

platform beneath the silk canopy before putting the weapon down.

     All he needed to do now was wait.

        *****

     The Doctor and Jamie managed to find a seat for Victoria at the

railing of the galleries, and stood behind her to wait for the ceremonies

to begin.  The three spent some time watching the people and marveling at

the variety of displays below them.  Every so often the crowd around the

Queen's platform would cheer, heralding the arrival of various dignitaries.

     "That's the Duke of Wellington!" Victoria shouted, standing up to

get a better look and blocking Jamie's view.

     "He's complimenting Paxton, the architect," the Doctor said,

recognizing the man Wellington was speaking with.  "And do you see the

Chinese mandarin?  Owns a junk vessel anchored on the Thames, and gives

tours at a few pence a head.  He seems quite at home, though, doesn't he?"

     Victoria grinned.  "I'm surprised you didn't try to sneak down there

yourself."

     "Aye, havin' a bonnie time wit' the Queen, too," Jamie added.

     "Not this time, Jamie..."

     The three travelers were so caught up in the spectacle that they

didn't notice the sky darkening with clouds until a clatter of rain beat

against the panes of glass above them.

     "Oh, it's going to rain for the Queen's entrance!" said a woman near

them.

     "I wouldn't worry too much -- I'm sure it'll pass," the Doctor told

her.  "The Queen's luck will hold out."

     When the rain stopped some moments later, the Doctor smiled

broadly.  "See, I told you," he said to the woman, who looked at him in

surprise.

     As the various clocks on display around them approached noon, the

crowd became eager for the Queen's entrance.  Finally those outside let

out cheers which could be heard inside the Crystal Palace, along with the

faint boom of distant cannons.

     "I can't believe I'm seeing this!" Victoria exclaimed.  "My father

was there and told me all about it, but--"  She stopped short in the

midst of all the cheering  Somewhere in this sea of people was her

father.  Fifteen years from now he'd be dead on Skaro.  If only she could

find him, warn him about what would happen--

     A firm hand placed itself on her shoulder.  She looked up and saw

the Doctor staring at her with a serious expression.  "No, Victoria," he

said, patting her shoulder gently but firmly.  "We can't do that.  Best

to leave the past in the past, asleep in our minds."

     Victoria gave him a sad smile, then drew herself up.  A blast of

trumpets announced that the Queen had entered the building.  Victoria

stood and cheered, but there was a sad edge to her cheers.

     Queen Victoria walked beneath the tall elms and through the great

metal gate toward the platform.  The sun emerged from behind a cloud,

causing her pink and silver dress to shine and the diamond ray diadem on

her head to sparkle.  Prince Albert strode at her side, leading the young

Princess Victoria.  The Prince of Wales, dressed in Highland garb, held

onto his mother's hand.  The crowd stood and cheered, the women waving

their handkerchief and the men waving their hats.

     "God save the Queen!" the Doctor cried exuberantly.  He looked

around at the delighted faces of those around him and smiled, delighted

to be part of the moment.

       His gaze fell upon a large engine on display near the back of the

gallery because he thought he saw movement on top of it.  He might have

chalked it up to an overexcited imagination, but a sudden feeling of

foreboding swept through him.

     He turned back to his companions.  "I'll be right back!" he shouted

over the din.

     "Where are you going?" Jamie asked.

     "Just stay here!" the Doctor replied sternly  He shouldered his way

into the crowd.

     Jamie and Victoria watched him go  When he was nearly out of sight,

Jamie moved to follow him.  Victoria caught his arm.  "He told us to stay

here," she said.

     "Someone's got to keep him out of trouble," Jamie answered her.

"I'll bring him back, I promise."

     She was about to protest again, but Jamie darted off into the crowd

as well.  She sighed, frustrated, then shrugged and turned back to the

ceremony, trying not to worry.

        *****

     The large pipe organ bellowed "God Save The Queen," and a choir

sang, but the Doctor barely heard this, so intent was he on his

investigation.  His sense of dread increased as he approached the machine.

     He dashed behind the machine, impulsively climbed the short ladder,

and peered over the top.  His hearts skip a beat.  A prostrate figure

aimed a rifle at the crowd, peering through a scope, aiming at the Queen.

     "Excuse me!" he hollered, jumping onto the top of the machine.

     The man whirled around and trained the gun on him.  For a moment the

Doctor froze, staring at the angry eyes which glared back at him and the

muzzle of the gun aimed at his head.  Not for the first time, he wondered

what he'd gotten himself into.

     Jamie fought the crowd.  He could see the Doctor standing on the

machine with his hands raised.  No one else noticed as all the attention

was focused on Prince Albert, who was giving a lengthy speech to the

Queen about the ideals of the Exhibition.

     There was a flash of light.  Jamie watched in horror as the Doctor

toppled from the machine.  He pushed aside the last of the people, who

were beginning to turn to see what the commotion was about.  He bent down

over the Doctor's unconscious body-- unconscious or dead, he thought with

sudden rage.

     Jamie turned to find the bearded attacker most of the way down the

ladder.  He lunged forward and grabbed at the back of the man's coat,

pulling him to the ground.  The man recovered quickly, and before Jamie

could react, the man swung the butt of the rifle and hit Jamie squarely

in the head.

     The Highlander reeled back but didn't lose his footing.  He barely

noticed the crowd gathering around them, but did see the Doctor still

motionless on the ground.  Jamie rushed forward again, knocking his

attacker to the ground.  They struggled, rolling back and forth, trying

to gain the upper hand.

     Finally Jamie had a knee firmly on the other man's chest and glared

as the other man glared back.  Jamie had seen that look before in his

travels with the Doctor-- the eyes of a fanatical enemy.  For a moment he

froze, and then, thinking of the Doctor, he raised his arm to strike.

     Rough hands grabbed him and pinned his arms behind him.  Seconds

later Jamie was surrounded by blue-coated police bobbies.  Another bobby

picked up his bearded opponent.  Jamie struggled, but the grip on his

arms only tightened.

     "Hold it there, will ya!" the bobby shouted in his ear.

     A portly man with long sideburns, wearing a shabby-looking suit and

top hat came over an picked up the weapon the attacker had dropped.  He

walked over spoke to the policeman holding Jamie.  "We've got to get them

out of here," he said.  He studied Jamie under half-opened eyelids, then

pointed at the Doctor.  "Have that one taken to Bart's under heavy guard,

and these two for questioning."

     "Very good, sir!"  The bobby pushed Jamie away from the crowd.  Some

of them had already lost interest, and were turning back to the ceremony

below them.

        *****

     A small knot of people watched as the police took Jamie and his

bearded opponent away down one of the back stairways.  Two attendants

lifted the Doctor onto a stretcher and followed the police out of the

building.  Victoria stood near the back of this crowd, frozen with

indecision.  Should she go after them?  She could tell them that they

were arresting the wrong people, but would they believe her?

     "I wouldn't go after them if I were you," said a voice behind her.

     She turned.  The voice belonged to a rather tall young man, about

her age or a year older.  He  had sandy red hair and a serious expression.

     "I saw you were with them," he continued, "but I don't think you

should continue on with them at the moment."

     "But I must!" she protested.  "They're going to blame the wrong people!"

     The stranger took a book from his pocket, a small volume with

"Official Popular Guide" embossed on the cover.  He leafed through the

pages until he found the part he wanted and read aloud.  "'Bear in mind

that any instructions that may be given by the police are for the good of

all.'"  He closed the book and looked at her sympathetically.  "Anyway,

don't you think it would be better to find the real people behind this?

Then your friends would go free."

     Victoria nodded slowly.  This was a sound idea.  Going after them

without any sort of plan could land her in prison as well.  Here she had

an ally, at least.  But she hardly knew the man, or why he was helping

her.  "Do you know who's behind this?"

     "I plan on finding out," he replied.

     "Who are you?" she asked bluntly.  "Are you with the police?"

     "Not exactly.  My name's Peter Galen."  He flashed her a warm smile.

     Victoria liked that smile-- he had the air of a gentleman.

"Victoria Waterfield," she told him, holding out her hand.  He took it

gently and kissed it.  His lips felt cool.  "What should we do now?"

     Galen looked at the crowd, who now had their attention on the

Queen.  "I think we should stay for the rest of the ceremony."  He

smiled.  "After all, it's a once-in-a-lifetime experience."

     Below them, Handel's Hallelujah Chorus began reverberating

throughout the Palace as the Queen made her grand exit.

        *****

     Jamie sat in the small questioning room and thought he felt the

walls closing in on him.  It had been hours since he and the bearded man

had been bustled into what the officers called a "Black Maria" and taken

to Great Scotland Yard.

     The portly man with the sideburns who had arrested them, Jamie

learned, was Inspector Stevenson.  That was about all he had learned.

He'd spent most of the time denying the inspector's charges under the

gaze of four constables.  No matter how many times the story was

repeated, though, Stevenson appeared unimpressed.

     Much to Stevenson's clear annoyance, the bearded man hadn't spoken a

word.  He sat hunched over, staring at the floor impassively and

answering no questions.  Jamie had seen people like him at Culloden--

focused, dedicated to a cause, fiercely loyal.  Despite what he'd seen

the man do, Jamie began to admire the man.

     "All right!" Stevenson said, breaking a long silence.  "Let's go

over this again, Mr. McCrimmon."

     As if it would help, Jamie thought.

     "You claim that you and your friend were only innocent bystanders

caught up in an assassination attempt on the Queen.  How did you know it

was going to happen?"

     "The Doctor must've seen him with the gun," Jamie replied, talking

as though the man in question wasn't in the room.  "The Doctor has a

habit of pokin' his nose into trouble."

     "Yet the man who took your tickets claims you acted suspiciously

when you came in."

     Jamie again recalled the odd scene in his mind.  He was surprised

that the ticket collector had remembered anything of the encounter.

Trust the Doctor's recklessness to get them into trouble again.  "Then

why did he let us in?" he asked fiercely.

     Stevenson scratched his sideburns in thought, and Jamie hoped he'd

scored a point.  "Well," he said finally, "he couldn't turn people away

without a real reason, could he?"  He stood and stretched.  "I don't

think we're getting anywhere.  Wilson, make arrangements to have them put

in Pentonville for the night."

     The sergeant looked surprised.  "Isn't that a bit irregular, sir?

Won't Inspector Lanthorne want to have a word with them when he returns?"

     The inspector glared at his subordinate.  "These are dangerous

criminals, sergeant!  I want them under particularly close watch.  And

Lanthorne can just as well question them in the morning, can't he?"

     "Of course, sir," Wilson replied, looking away with a nervous grin.

"Just asking."  He motioned to his fellow officers.  "Come on, you lot,

let's get these two out of here."

     Jamie and the bearded gunman were dragged to their feet.  They were

hustled to a side door, where they were taken outside and pushed into

another Black Maria.  The carriage took off clattering down London's

cobblestone streets.

        *****

     Victoria took a sip of her glass of brown liquid and grimaced.  It

was supposed to be water.  The Horse and Wheel was the sort of place her

father certainly wouldn't have liked her to be found in.  A typical pub

of the time, the Horse and Wheel looked only a few notches above a gin

shop, and it hadn't been cleaned in ages.  Her only solace was that she

and Galen were almost the only ones there.  She could imagine the pub a

few hours later, filled with all sorts of questionable characters, but

now only a few seedy-looking men drank pints at the bar and occasionally

glanced in their direction.

     She had briefly wondered about the wisdom of going with Galen when

he told her where they were headed.  He looked rather pale, she thought,

and seemed distracted when she voiced her objections.  Only his strong

assurances that going to the pub was vitally important prevented her from

going off on her own to rescue the Doctor and Jamie.

     Before they had arrived, they had walked some ways through the

crowds surrounding the Crystal Palace before stopping at the post

office.  He had said he needed to send a telegram to make sure the person

they needed to meet would know when to be at the pub.

     They sat at a small table in the corner of the Horse and Wheel.

Galen was trying to fill her in on what he knew about the whole strange

affair.

     "So you see," he was saying, "I really don't know who's behind it.

Even the people who have contact with this chap don't know."

     "Then how did you find out about it?" she asked.

     "Sheer carelessness.  I was sitting at this very table when I heard

two men discussing something.  I could only pick out a few words, but

those were 'kill' and 'Queen,' so I rightly became a bit concerned.  So I

waited until one of them left, then went to the other and offered him a

drink.  He'd had a few too many as it was, so it didn't take a lot of

prying to find out the whole story.  He even gave me an address where

they were meeting-- for a price, of course."

     They looked up, as did the men at the bar, when a thin, gray-haired

woman entered.  She looked like she was in her fifties, Victoria thought,

but the stresses of living in this part of town could easily have made

her look older than she was.  The woman scanned the faces of the

customers carefully before finding Galen.  She came over to the table.

     "You Mr. Galen, ducks?" she asked.

     "I might be," he replied cautiously.  "Depending on who you are."

     "Mrs. Perkins.  Barney's wife."

     "Perhaps you'd better sit down," Galen said quietly, standing and

pulling out one of the chairs for her.

     "Sakes alive, Mr. Galen!" she exclaimed as she sat.  "I can't tell

you the last time a gen'leman showed me such manners!"  She beamed at

Victoria, who hesitantly smiled back.

     "Mrs. Perkins, I was expecting your husband to meet us here," Galen

said.

     "Get down right to business, don't you now?"  She paused to collect

her thoughts.  "Barney says to tell you that he's meeting with the man

now-- urgent, he says, else he'd be 'ere himself.  Hope that makes some

sense to you, Mr. Galen-- Barney never tells me nothin'."

     "You're sure he didn't say anything else?" Galen pressed her.

     "That you should get back to 'im tomorrow."

     "But tomorrow may be too late!" said Victoria said apprehensively.

     "Quite so," he agreed.  "Mrs. Perkins, can you tell us anything else?"

     "No, that was all, Mr. Galen..."  She trailed off, but her face had

a look of expectation.

     Galen sighed.  He reached into his pocket, took out a small silver

coin, and put it on the table.

     Mrs. Perkins looked disappointed.  "Maybe you ain't the gen'leman I

thought you was."

     "Payment is proportional to the amount of help given me," Galen

said.  "He'll have more when he has more to tell."

     The woman picked up the coin.  With a sniff, she got up and began to

walk away.

     "Oh, and Mrs. Perkins?" Galen called after her.  She turned.  "Tell

your husband that he could have got me killed the other night by tipping

his hat.  He'll understand what I mean."

     After she had left, he lapsed into silence for some seconds.  Again

he seemed lost in his own thoughts.

     "Shouldn't we be leaving now?" Victoria asked finally.

     He turned to her with a start.  "Yes, I suppose so.  Finish your

water and we'll be off."

     "Thank you, but no," she replied, and stood up from the table.

        *****

     In the short time since meeting the Doctor, Jamie had seen the

inside many prisons.  The Doctor had called them an "occupational

hazard," but Jamie tended to find them much more frustrating.  Hours upon

hours of not being able to do anything quickly wore on his nerves.

     He'd have to rate Pentonville Prison as one of the worst he'd ever

been in.  The small cell was clean, at least, but it held only one

prisoner-- him.   Contact with other prisoners was forbidden.  Jamie

considered himself strong-willed, but he wasn't sure how long he could

last without speaking to anyone.  Then there was the heavy lead mask he

would be forced to wear whenever he left the cell, making him

unrecognizable to other prisoners also wearing masks.

     Jamie lay on the hammock strung between two of the walls, tired, but

too worried to sleep.  Was the Doctor all right?  What had happened to

Victoria?  And how was he going to get out of this mess?

     Then there was the bearded man.  The more Jamie thought about him

and the fight at the industrial display, the more he felt as though there

was something he'd forgotten, something very important.Looking behind the

obvious was something the Doctor had tried to train him to see.  He

thought he could figure out what was so strange about the man-- all he

needed was time.

     Time he had in plenty.  As he struggled to think, however, he only

managed to make the frustration worse.

     Somehow, through the maelstrom of images and problems, he managed to

fall into a fitful sleep.

        *****

     The carriage ride from the Horse and Wheel took some time.  The

streets were crowded with revelers celebrating the opening of the

Exhibition.  The sun was dipping low in the sky as they reached the

address Galen had given the driver.  Victoria looked out at an

upper-class neighborhood with considerably less hustle and bustle.  She

breathed a sigh of relief.

     Galen helped Victoria from the cab, then paid their fare, giving a

generous tip.  Soon they were walking arm-in-arm down the street,

stopping only to buy an evening newspaper from a small boy on the corner.

     "Not too far now to my flat," Galen assured her.  "I need to think,

and you need to rest.  There's not much we can do until morning anyway."

     "Thank you," said Victoria, a trifle nervously.  She'd been away

from Victorian England for many months, and seen so much, but it still

didn't seem right to be invited back to the flat of a young man she

hardly knew.

     They turned and walked down a back alley which ended in a

nondescript door with a brass knocker.  Victoria raised her eyebrows.

     Galen nodded.  "It may not look like much to you," he said, "but it

keeps the burglars off the scent."

     He produced a large key and opened the door which creaked on its

hinges.  The only light inside came from a blazing fire in the hearth,

but that light was enough to illuminate nearly everything.  The

oak-paneled room had the cluttered look fashionable for Victorian

sitting-rooms.  Furniture, books, and expensive knickknacks were packed

into a small space, giving the room a snug feeling.

     "Make yourself comfortable," Galen said as he took her coat.  As she

sat in an oversized armchair near the fire, he went around to nimbly

light the gas-jet lamps on each of the four walls.

     Galen took a seat on the couch facing her.  He unrolled the

newspaper and scanned the headlines.  "Hmm... a lot about the Exhibition,

but nothing about the assassination attempt.  I wonder how they managed

to keep it quiet?"  He paged through the rest of the paper before looking

up again.  "Nothing," he said finally.  Then, in a softer tone, "I say

I've been frightfully rude, haven't I?  It's a bit late for tea, but

would you like a cup anyway?"

     At the mention of food, Victoria's stomach grumbled.  "Yes, please,"

she replied eagerly.

     "I probably have some sandwiches as well, if that's all right."

     She nodded, and he got up and headed toward the door on the far side

of the room.

     "Anything I can help you do?" she asked.

     Galen turned.  For a moment he seemed at a loss for words.  "Ah, no

thank you.  Just stay here and relax."  He opened the door and left,

shutting it behind him.

     Victoria looked through the newspaper for a few minutes, but boredom

set in quickly.  She looked at the fire instead.  This was a nice place,

well-kept and warm.  Then she frowned.  That fire was going when they

arrived here.  Galen hadn't stoked or started it.  Judging from how high

the flames were leaping, this looked to be a new fire.  But Galen didn't

seem to have any servants, or else they would have brought the tea.

     Curiosity got the better of her.  Who was this mysterious Galen?  It

was unusual for a gentleman to invite an unmarried young lady into his

flat, even scandalous by certain Victorian standards, but he didn't seem

to be a scandalous man.  She decided to study the room, to find anything

that might give her some insights into his character.

     She got up and examined the assorted items around her.  Numerous

paintings were hung on the walls, mostly of flowers or landscapes.  A

pile of newspapers sat on one side table, some of the articles circled

with a pencil.  A violin-case leaned against one wall, and several exotic

figurines sat on the mantelpiece.  A rolltop desk covered in papers

occupied the corner.  Two wooden shelves next to it held numerous

leatherbound books sorted in no pattern that she could see.

     Finally she reached the door by which Galen had left.  She tried the

brass handle and found the door unlocked.  Opening it slowly, she found

herself peering down a long, dark hallway.   The only light came through

the cracks of another door at the end.  Her curiosity still pushing her

on, she walked to the second door and opened it as well.

     For a moment she was blinded by a light so bright she had to cover

her eyes with her hand .  When she could finally see, she stood staring

in shock.  Before her was another room, with roundel-covered walls that

glowed, and an unmistakable mushroom-shaped, six-sided console console in

the middle.

     Victoria was still frozen with shock as Galen entered through the

interior door.  He spotted her and almost dropped the laden tea-tray he held.

     "Oh dear," he said at last.  "Looks as though I have a lot of

explaining to do."

        *****

     Jamie.

     As he fought again in Culloden, his name floated into his dreams.

     "Jamie!"

     He sat bolt upright, for a moment not remembering where he was.

Then the previous day washed back over him in a flood, and he could dimly

see the cell around him, trapping him.  Everything was silent.

     "James Robert McCrimmon!"  A whisper, nothing more, not coming from

any particular direction.

     For a second Jamie wondered if this place had driven him insane, but

the voice called again from the other side of the wall in the corner of

the room.  "Jamie boy, can you hear me?  You fought me well, Jamie boy,

you've done me proud!"

     The bearded gunman was in the next cell, Jamie thought, but then his

subconscious remembered what was so familiar about that man.  Instinct

took over.

     Without thinking, his hand moved to his throat, where a ring hung

under his clothes on a leather thong.  When they had first met, the

Doctor had told him that he should keep it, since he had the best chance

of returning it to its rightful owner.  Now he pulled it free.  In the

darkness could feel the pattern on the face of the ring, a horse and a

lion holding up the heraldic shield of Bonnie Prince Charlie, the

rightful King who was somehow in the next cell, a hundred years after

Culloden, calling to him.

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