“What?” went Will.

“Slacken up, chief.”

Will slackened up.

“Gavin the gooseberry wasn’t having any of it. He thought he knew best. So I manifested in physical form to Mr Rune during one of his many abortive conjurations. But he didn’t trust me, and he kept me in a box. I was trying and trying to win him over and let me come inside. I could have made short work of that Gavin, sprout against a gooseberry, no contest! But however it didn’t come to pass, because Mr Rune had a plan of his own and it so happened that my plan and his plan joined together perfectly. Rune sought knowledge of future events, very possibly to lay bets upon race horses, but I’m sure also to aid the forces of good. I suggested to him that although it was a radical thing to do, I might be persuaded to bring someone back from the future; someone who would have knowledge of past events which were still future events to Mr Rune. If you understand me.”

Mr Wells nodded and sipped port.

“And this was the clever bit,” said Barry. “Rune wanted to bring back his magical heir, a descendant of his. The last of his line, in fact.”

“Tim.” Will worked his own mouth.

“Tim,” said Barry. “But, as you know, there was a bit of a balls-up and you were brought back instead.”

“A moment please,” said Mr Wells. “If you hatched up this plan with Rune, why was I brought into this?”

“You were working on a time machine,” said Barry. “And Mr Rune wanted to borrow a hundred quid. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

“Scoundrel,” said Wells. “Outrageous!”

“And a terrible mistake all round,” Barry continued. “I allowed myself to be placed in that machine. Allowed my time-travelling powers to be harnessed but not under my control. The machine was stolen, and used by the forces of evil against Mr Starling, because he had found evidence that the history he had been taught was incorrect, and his returning here would have an effect on changing things back to the way they should be. It’s all rather complicated. But the point I’m trying to make, and in answer to your question about previous tenants, is this. Mr Starling turned out to be the ideal candidate, because he doesn’t have a Holy Guardian of his own. In his age there are no more Holy Guardians, because in his age there is no more God.”

“What?” went Will.

And “What?” also went Mr Wells.

“In the age you come from, chief, there is no record of the incredible technological achievements of this age, am I right?”

“You are,” said Will.

“Because history will be changed in the year 1900. Everything will change as if none of the amazing things, the electrical automobiles, the Dreadnaught, the moonship that is soon to be launched, ever happened. The human race will take an evolutionary step backwards. This will lead to terrible things happening. Amongst those terrible things, and in fact the most terrible of them all, will be the death of God.”

“God cannot die,” said Mr Wells.

“I agree,” said Will.

“You do?” said Barry.

“I do,” said Will. “He can’t die, because He doesn’t exist.”

Barry had a right royal struggle to slacken Will’s jaw once again. “Exactly, because if no one believes in Him, He effectively ceases to exist. But whether you do or do not believe in God, chief, you know that history was changed. You’re here now, you can see how things really are. You can’t deny that, can you?”

Will just shook his head, slowly and thoughtfully.

“Something happens to change it all, to wipe out all records of what really happened here. All but a tiny detail here and there, like the digital watch the chief here discovered on a Victorian painting. One or two little things slipped through the magical net somehow. And the evil ones who stole the time machine tried to put that right, destroy the evidence and wipe out all knowledge. So far they’ve failed to do that, which means that we still have a chance at this minute to save the future from being interfered with. And to save good old God too. He’s not a bad old stick; He doesn’t deserve to get the chop.”

Will would have spoken, but he was speechless. Mr Wells, however, was not.

“I recall,” said he, “that you prefaced this tale with the words, ‘You have to understand that none of this is my fault’. And you have enforced this by telling us that although you were the power behind the time machine, you had no control over where it was sent.”

“Mr Rune set the controls,” said Barry. “He worked out the equations.”

“Rune told me that,” said Will, “when I first met him. I crash-landed in a street. Rune told me the calculations were slightly out. I don’t recall you being amongst the wreckage, though, Barry.”

“Had to make a timely departure, chief. A drayman’s horse nearly stepped upon me.”

“No, no, no,” said Will. “None of this makes any sense. If you wanted to be inside me, as my Holy Guardian, why didn’t you do it then?”

“You weren’t ready, chief. You were pretty confused, finding yourself in the Victorian era and everything. And you needed time with Mr Rune, so he could teach you stuff. Prepare you for the fight.”

“He taught me a lot,” said Will. “No magic, though.”

“He taught you Dimac,” said Mr Wells, ruefully rubbing at his bandaged ankle.

Barry cleared Wills’s throat. “Can I just ask one question?” he asked. “Mr Wells, how did you know about my brother?”

“Rune told me, over a very expensive dinner at one of his clubs, which I paid for. Rune liked to pontificate, to boast of his knowledge. ‘Science is bunk,’ he said to me. ‘Do not be fooled by scientific achievement; it has magic at its core.’ I didn’t believe him then, of course. We were celebrating the fact that the time machine was completed. I did not know then that the only reason it was completed was because Barry here had been installed within it by Rune. And I had parted with the one hundred pounds. And he couldn’t resist telling me. He told me all about you, and your brother. Barry’s brother, Mr Starling, was another of God’s little helpers, but he came to a sorry end.”

“A very sorry end,” said Barry. “Got cooked in the Great Fire of London. He persuaded his host there, a baker named Wilkinson, to get the fire started to purge London of the plague. The plague would have wiped out the entire country if it hadn’t been for my brother.”

“And,” Mr Wells continued, “Rune told me that he had arranged with Her Majesty that we would demonstrate the time machine before her at Buckingham Palace the following day. When we returned here after the meal, the time machine was gone.”

“Hold on,” Will’s voice was now once more under his own control. “This all makes some kind of sense, if Rune had already set the controls, and these ‘forces of evil’ had found out about his plan. All they had to do was put their terminator robot in the driving seat and send it off on its way while you were out at dinner celebrating. Is that what happened, Barry?”

“Near as damned, chief. I’ve been trying to figure it out myself. I know I travelled into the future and back, but who was at the controls, I don’t know. If I’m not inside a human, then I can’t see through their eyes. But I do know that Rune was being constantly followed. Time and time again I warned him, but he always boasted that he was invulnerable to attack. Sadly he was proved wrong on that account.”

And Barry relinquished his hold upon Will’s vocal cords.

Fire crackled in the grate. Will rose, fetched the port, refreshed Mr Wells’ glass and also his own. He returned to his seat and sat down upon it.

“Well,” said Will.

“Well,” said Mr Wells.

“I really don’t know what to say and what to do next.”

Mr Wells dusted talcum from his hands. His port glass hovered in the air. “I do not know what to believe any more,” he said. “I am a man of science, or perhaps I should say, was. If only I could claim that I achieved this dismal state of invisibility through science, then I would argue science over superstition. But sadly I cannot. My present state of being was not achieved through the administration of a medical decoction. I fear that I hold a certain degree of responsibility for your present predicament, Mr Starling.”