"I hadn't realized your collection was so big. I've never seen it all, as you know." Miss Ming made conversation as best she could. Evidently the place still disturbed her.

"It grows almost without one realizing it," said Doctor Volospion. "I suppose, because so many people of a messianic disposition take an interest in the future, we are bound to get more than our fair share of prophets, anxious to discover if their particular version of the millennium has come about. Because they are frequently disappointed, many are glad of the refuge I offer."

They went through another door.

"Martyrdom, it would seem, is the next best thing to affirmation," he said.

They passed through a score of different Houses until, finally, they came to the Fireclown's habitat. It was designed to resemble a desert, scorched by a permanently blazing sun.

"He refused," whispered Doctor Volospion, as they approached, "to tell me what sort of environment he favoured, so I chose this one. It is the most popular with my prophets, as you'll have noted."

Emmanuel Bloom, in his clown's costume, sat on a rock in the centre of his energy cage. His greasepaint seemed to have run a little, as if he had been weeping, but he did not seem in particularly low spirits now. He had not, it appeared, noticed them. He was reciting poetry to himself.

He had seen her. His great blue eyes blinked. His stiff little body began to rise. His birdlike, fluting voice took on a different tone.

"And yet like none of these…" He put an awkward finger to his small mouth. He put his painted head on one side.

Mavis Ming cleared her throat. Doctor Volospion's hand forced her further towards the cage.

The Fireclown spoke first. "So Guinevere comes at last to her Lancelot — or is it Kundry, come to call me Parsifal? Sorceress, you have incarcerated me. Tell your servant to release me so that, in turn, I may free you from the evil that holds you with stronger bonds than any that chain me!"

Miss Ming's smile was insincere. "Why don't you talk properly, Mr Bloom? This is childish. Anyway, you know he's not my servant." She was very pale.

Mr Bloom crossed the stretch of sand until he was as close to her as the cage permitted. "He is not your master, you may be sure of that, this imitation Klingsor!"

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about." Her voice was shaking.

He pressed his tiny body against the energy screen. "I must be free," he said. "There is no mission for me here, now, at the End of Time. I must continue my quest, perhaps into another universe where Faith may yet flourish."

Doctor Volospion came forward. "I have brought Miss Ming, as you have so constantly demanded. You have talked to her. Now, if you will give up the Grail to me…"

Mr Bloom's manner became agitated. "I have explained to you, demi-demon, that you could not keep it, even if, by some means, I could transfer it to you. Only the pure in spirit are entitled to its trust. If I agreed to your bargain I should lose the Grail myself, for ever. Neither would gain!"

"I find your objections without foundation." Doctor Volospion was unruffled by the Fireclown's anger. "What you believe, Mr Bloom, is one thing. The truth, however, is quite another! Faith dies, but the objects of faith do not, as you saw in my museum."

"These things have no value without Faith!"

"They are valuable to me. That is why I collect them. I desire this Grail of yours so that I may, at least, compare it with my own."

"You know yours to be false," said the Fireclown. "I can tell."

"I shall decide which is false and which is not when I have both in my possession. I know it is on your ship, for all that you deny it."

"It is not. It manifests itself at certain times."

Doctor Volospion allowed his own ill-temper to show. "Miss Ming…"

"Please let him have it, Mr Bloom," said Mavis Ming in her best wheedling voice. "He'll let you go if you do."

The Fireclown was amused. "I can leave whenever I please. But I gave my word on two matters. I said that I would not take you by force and that I would take you with me when I left."

"Your boasts are shown to be empty, sir," said Doctor Volospion. He laid the flat of his hand against the energy screen. "There."

Mr Bloom ran his hand through his auburn mop, continuing to speak to Miss Ming. "You demean yourself, woman, when you aid this wretch, when you adopt that idiotic tone of voice."

"Well!" It was possible to observe that Miss Ming's legs were shaking. "I'm not staying here, not even for you, Doctor Volospion! It's too much. I can stand a lot of things, but not this."

"Be silent!" The Fireclown's voice was low and firm. "Listen to your soul. It will tell you what I tell you."

"Miss Ming!" Seeing that she prepared to flee Doctor Volospion seized her arm. "For my sake do not give up. If I have that Grail…"

"You may see the Grail, beautiful Mavis, when I have redeemed you," murmured the Fireclown, "but it shall always be denied to such as he! Come with me and I shall let you witness more than Mystery."

She panicked. "Oh, Christ!" She was unable to control herself as she sensed the terrible pressure coming from both sides. She tried to free herself from Doctor Volospion's restraining hand. "I can't take any more. I can't!"

"Miss Ming!" fiercely croaked a desperate Volospion. "You promised to help."

"Come with me!" cried the Fireclown.

She still struggled, trying to prise his grip away from the sleeve of her mou-mou. "You can both do what you like. I don't want any part of it."

Hysteria ruled now. She scratched Doctor Volospion's hand so that at last he released her. She ran away from them. She ran crazily between the cages of roaring, screaming, moaning prophets. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"

And then, just before a door shut her from their view:

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"