“In spite of us,” she said.

“In spite of us.”

We stared at the peonies.

“I suppose you’re glad it’s over,” she said. “I mean, you’ll finally be able to get what you wanted.”

I looked at her.

She looked away. “Some sleep, I mean.”

“I’m not nearly so enamored of it anymore,” I said. “I’ve learned to do without.”

We stared at the peonies some more.

“I suppose you’ll go back to your mystery novels,” I said after another silence.

She shook her head. “They’re not very true-to-life. They always end by solving the mystery and righting the wrong. Miss Marple’s never shuffled off to an air raid while they clean up the mess she’s made.” She tried to smile. “What will you do now?”

“Jumble sales, probably. I should imagine Lady Schrapnell will assign me to permanent coconut shy duty when she finds out the bishop’s bird stump wasn’t there after all.”

“Wasn’t where?”

“In the cathedral,” I said. “I got a clear view of the north aisle as we were leaving. The stand was there, but no bishop’s bird stump. I hate to tell her, she had her heart so set on its having been in the cathedral. You were right. Strange as it may seem, someone must have removed it for safekeeping.”

She frowned. “Are you certain you were looking in the right place?”

I nodded. “In front of the parclose screen of the Smiths’ Chapel, between the third and fourth pillars.”

“But that’s impossible,” she said. “It was there. I saw it.”

“When?” I said. “When did you see it?”

“Just after I came through,” she said.

“Where?”

“In the north aisle. The same place it was when we were there yesterday.”

There was a faint whisper of air, and the net began to shimmer. Verity stooped to pick up her bags and stepped down onto the grass.

“Wait.” I grabbed her arm. “Tell me exactly when and where you saw it.”

She looked anxiously at the shimmering net. “Shouldn’t we—”

“We’ll catch the next one,” I said. “Tell me exactly what happened. You came through in the sanctuary—”

She nodded. “The sirens were going, but I couldn’t hear any planes, and it was dark in the church. There was a little light on the altar and another one on the rood screen. I thought I’d better stay near the drop, in case it opened again right away. So I hid in one of the vestries and waited, and after a while I saw torches over by the vestry door, and the fire watch came in, going up to the roofs, and I heard one of them say, ‘Had we better start carrying things out of the vestries?’ so I sneaked into the Mercers’ Chapel and hid. I could still see the drop from there.”

“And then the Mercers’ Chapel caught on fire?”

She nodded. “I started for the vestry door, but there was all this smoke, and I must have got turned around. I ended up in the choir. That’s when I hit my hand on the arch and cut it. I remembered that the tower hadn’t burned, so I got down on the floor and worked my way along the choir railing to the nave and then crawled down the nave till the smoke got less thick and I could stand up.”

“And when was that?”

“I don’t know,” she said, looking anxiously at the net. “What if it doesn’t open again? Perhaps we should discuss this in Oxford.”

“No,” I said. “When did you stand up in the nave?”

“I don’t know. A little before they started carrying things out.”

The shimmer flared into light. I ignored it. “All right. You crawled down the nave—” I prompted.

“I crawled down the nave and after I’d gone about halfway, the smoke started to thin out, and I could see the west door. I took hold of the pillar I was next to and stood up, and there it was, in front of the screen. On its stand. It had a big bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums in it.”

“You’re certain it was the bishop’s bird stump?”

“It doesn’t exactly look like anything else,” she said. “Ned, what’s this all about?”

“What did you do then?”

“I thought, well, at least I’ve accomplished something. I can tell Ned it was there during the raid. If I make it out of here. And I started toward the tower door. The aisle was blocked with a pew that had got knocked over, and I had to go round it, and before I could reach the tower, the fire watch came in and started carrying things out.”

“And?” I prompted.

“I ducked across into the Cappers’ Chapel and hid.”

“How long were you in there?”

“I don’t know. A quarter of an hour or so. One of the fire watch came back in and got the altar books. I waited till he was gone, and then I went out to look for you.”

“Out the south door?” I said.

“Yes,” she said, looking at the net. It was beginning to dwindle and fade.

“Were there people outside on the steps when you went out?”

“Yes. If we’ve missed our chance to go home—”

“Did any of the fire watch go near the bishop’s bird stump?”

“No. They went into the sanctuary and the vestries and one of them ran down and got the altar cross and the candlesticks out of the Smiths’ Chapel.”

“And that’s all he got?”

“Yes.”

“You’re certain?”

“I’m certain. He had to go round the back of the nave and up the south aisle with them, because of the smoke. He ran right past me.”

“Did you see any of them in the Drapers’ Chapel?”

“No.”

“And you didn’t go in the Drapers’ Chapel?”

“I told you. I came through in the sanctuary, and I was in the Mercers’ Chapel and then the choir. And that’s all.”

“Could you see the north door from where you were hiding?”

She nodded.

“And no one went out that way?”

“It was locked,” she said. “I heard one of the fire watch tell another to unlock the north door, that the fire brigade would bring the hoses in that way, and he said they’d have to do it from the outside, because of the Smiths’ Chapel being on fire.”

“What about the west door? The tower door?”

“No. The fire watch all went out the vestry door.”

“Did you see anyone else in the cathedral?” I said. “Besides the fire watch? And the firemen?”

“In the cathedral? Ned, it was on fire.”

“What were the fire watch wearing?”

“Wearing?” she said bewilderedly. “I don’t know. Uniforms. Coveralls. I… the verger was wearing a tin helmet.”

“Were any of them wearing white?”

“White? No, of course not. Ned, what—?”

“Could you see the west door — the tower door — from where you were hiding?”

She nodded.

“And no one went out the west door while you were there? You didn’t see anyone in the Drapers’ Chapel?”

“No. Ned, what’s this all about?”

The north door was locked, and Verity had a clear view of the south door, and there were people — that knot of roof — watchers and the two louts by the lamp-post-outside the whole time.

The fire watch was using the vestry door, and shortly after Provost Howard made it out with the altar books, it was blocked by fire. And there were people by the vestry door, too. And the stout ARP warden making the rounds. And the dragon lady head of the Flower Committee was standing militant guard outside the west door. There was no way out of the cathedral.

There was no way out of the cathedral. There was no way out of the lab. And no place to hide. Except the net.

I grabbed both of Verity’s arms. I had hidden in the net, behind the theatrical curtains, and listened to Lizzie Bittner say, “I’d do anything for him.” In Oxford in 2018. Where T.J. had discovered a region of increased slippage.

“It’s because we don’t have the treasures Canterbury and Winchester have,” Lizzie Bittner had said. Lizzie Bittner, whose husband was a descendant of the Botoners who had built the church in 1395. Lizzie Bittner, who had lied about the lab’s being open. Who had a key.

“What you think is the first crime turns out to be the second,” the fur-bearing woman had said. “The first crime had happened years before.” Or after. This was time travel, after all. And in one of the Waterloo sims, the continuum had gone back to 1812 to correct itself.