Mr Gwynplaine Dhark glared at Tim.

Tim felt his bladder pressing for an adjournment to the gents.

“I object,” said Mr Gwynplaine Dhark.

“Upon what grounds?” asked Mr Justice Doveston.

“Upon the grounds that this may prove prejudicial to myself.”

“These are somewhat unusual grounds,” said Mr Justice D. “Do we have a precedent for them?”

The clerk of the court consulted his tomes once again.

“No, don’t bother,” said Mr Justice Doveston. “Frankly, I can’t be arsed to listen. Let’s hear Mr McGregor out. Hear what he has to say.”

“Thank you, your honour,” said Tim. “I will seek to prove that my client is an innocent man. And so is his twin brother. That they have been wrongly accused and that a conspiracy exists to overthrow the British Government, destroy the technology of the British Empire and plunge the world into a new Dark Age. And that the root cause of this conspiracy is a cabal of witches who represent themselves as The Chiswick Townswomen’s Guild.”

“Grrrr!” went Mr Gwynplaine Dhark.

“This sounds most interesting,” said Mr Justice Doveston. “Will it take long, do you think?”

“A couple of months, perhaps,” said Tim. “I’ll be calling a lot of witnesses, including Her Majesty the Queen (God bless Her), Lord Charles Babbage, Mr Nikola Tesla, Mr Sherlock Holmes, and countless others.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun,” said the magistrate. “We don’t usually get a group of celebrities like that in this courtroom.”

“I object,” said Mr Gwynplaine Dhark. “This counsel is only seeking to muddy the waters. This is an open and shut case. Tyburn’s tree awaits these madmen. It is time for them to dance a jig for Jack Ketch.”

“Well, naturally I appreciate that. But imagine having Her Majesty—”

“God bless Her,” said all those present.

“Quite so,” said the magistrate. “Imagine having Her Majesty right here in this courtroom.”

“I can imagine that,” said Mr Gwynplaine Dhark. “Legs in the air and backwards over the bench.”

“Pardon me?”

“It is outrageous, your honour. Her Majesty would never consent to give evidence.”

“She already has,” said Tim. “I’ve just come from Buckingham Palace. And I’ve spoken, by telephone, to all the others; twenty-three in all. I am well prepared.”

“See,” said Will to Barry. “Tim’s on the case.”

“This is never going to work, chief.”

“It will, Barry. And with no violence and killing and with me and my other self walking free from the court and not dying. And the witches getting arrested and—”

“Dhark the warlock too?” said Barry. “He’ll just put his hands up and be led quietly to the cells, will he?”

“One thing at a time, Barry.”

“You’re on such a wrong ’n here, chief.”

“Well, it can’t hurt to give it a go.”

“And I shall go on to prove—” – Tim McGregor had continued speaking throughout Will’s brief conversation with Barry “—that Mr Gwynplaine Dhark is none other than a warlock working for Satan himself, and so must be put to torture and burned alive at the stake.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun, too,” said Mr Justice Doveston.

Mr Gwynplaine Dhark glared even harder at Tim, and Tim felt boils breaking out around his willy.

“This is never going to work, chief,” said Barry. “This is such a bad idea.”

Will whispered once more behind his hand. “I have no intention of being executed,” he whispered, “nor letting my other self get executed. And if this cabal of witches really exists, and some psychopathic killer, who my other self thinks is Satan, is connected with them, well, let’s get it all out in the open. Let’s bring them all into this court. Let’s see what happens.”

“It’s a really duff plan, chief.”

“And you had a better one?”

“It’s all in The Book Of Rune, chief.”

“Which you’d neglected to mention.”

“It would have been cheating. But I’d have got you through it without The Book Of Rune. Got you to do the right thing.”

“And I’d have ended up dead.”

“Not necessarily so, chief. Your other self would, but that’s his fate. We can’t mess around with that.”

“I can do what I want, Barry. And I want to do things my way.”

“It will end in disaster, chief. Let me get you out of here, now.”

“Get us out of here, now. My other self and me.”

“Can’t do it, chief, sorry.”

“Then we’ll just have to do things my way.”

Barry made groaning sounds.

“And save the world,” Tim was still continuing.

“Do what?” asked Mr Justice Doveston.

“My client,” said Tim McGregor. “He will save the world. This is his destiny. His fate, we can’t mess about with that.”

“We’ll see,” said Mr Gwynplaine Dhark.

“I think,” said Mr Justice Doveston, “that I will adjourn the court now. It’s getting near to lunchtime and because of the nature of this case, I feel it best that members of the paparazzi and the British Broadcasting Company wireless service be alerted. This will give the Borough of Brentford the kind of publicity it has always needed. People don’t appreciate Brentford, they don’t understand it. A case like this will put Brentford on the map.”

Mr Gwynplaine Dhark made snarling noises. Sulphurous fumes issued from his mouth. The whites of his eyes became black.

“So,” said Mr Justice Doveston. “Court adjourned for two hours. Lady in the straw hat up to my chambers for a bit of how’s-your-father. And Mr Dhark—”

“Yes your honour?”

“Clean your teeth,” said the magistrate. “Your breath smells something wicked.”

The cell had been recently decorated in pastel shades with a nautical theme. A lifebelt framed the window, through which could be seen that tent of blue the prisoner calls the sky. Several driftwood boats hung upon the wall beside the door and the customary straw pallet had been replaced by a hammock. Upon this hammock sat the other Will. Upon a throw rug with seagull motifs sat Will and lounging by the door stood Tim, attempting to smoke a Victorian cigarette and grinning all over his face.

“Isn’t this just entirely brilliant?” said Tim, coughing somewhat.

Will managed less than half a smile.

The other Will managed nothing but a frown.

“But it is,” Tim gave the cell a twice-over, for he had already given it the once. “I’d imagined rats and water dripping down the walls.”

The other Will made groaning sounds.

Will said, “You are up for this, aren’t you, Tim?”

“I am,” Tim grinned if anything more broadly. “And this is brilliant. Thanks for bringing me back here with you from the future. I’m loving this, I really am.”

“I haven’t introduced you,” said Will to the other Will. “This is my—”

“Brother,” said the other Will. “It has to be; he looks just like my brother. Apart from the silly hair and the ridiculous coat.”

“Your brother has those, does he?” Tim asked.

“No,” said the other Will. “You do.”

Tim’s grin hardly faded. “He’s as much fun as you said he was,” he said to Will. “So what’s going to happen next?”

“Shall we have a look at The Book Of Rune and find out?”

“That’s cheating, chief.”

“I’m doing things my way, Barry.”

Tim delved into his briefcase and pulled out The Book Of Rune. “Picked it up from your room at the Dorchester, as you requested. There’s a bit of bother there, by the way. Apparently you paid a week up front when you arrived at the hotel, but your cheque bounced. I don’t think you’d better go back.”

“Perfect,” Will sighed.

“You didn’t really want to pay for the room, did you, chief?” Barry asked. “You are Rune’s magical heir, well, sort of. You’re following in his footsteps. Your money’s in a different account.”

“Let’s have a look at the book,” said Will and Tim handed it over.

“You’re wasting your time,” said the other Will. “There’s nothing about this in Scripture.”