Verity had said to keep Terence away from Tossie, but she hadn’t known about the cat. I had to get it back to the site of its disappearance immediately. And the quickest way to do that was to tell Terence I’d found it. He’d be overjoyed. He’d insist on starting to Muchings End immediately.

But I didn’t want to create any more consequences, and Tossie might be so grateful to him for returning Princess Arjumand she’d fall in love with him instead of Mr. C. Or he might start wondering how the cat had got so far from home and insist on setting off after its kidnapper the way he had after the boat and end up going over a weir in the dark and drowning. Or drowning the cat. Or causing the Boer War.

I’d better keep the cat hidden until we got to Muchings End. If I could get it back in the basket. If I could find it.

“If we were to find Princess Arjumand,” I said, I hoped casually, “how would one go about catching her?”

“I shouldn’t think she’d need catching,” Terence said. “I should think she’d leap gratefully into our arms as soon as she saw us. She’s not used to fending for herself. From what Toss — Miss Mering told me, she’s had rather a sheltered life.”

“But suppose she didn’t. Would she come if you called her by name?”

Terence and the professor both stared at me in disbelief. “It’s a cat,” Terence said.

“So how would one set about catching her if she were frightened and wouldn’t come? Would one use a trap or—”

“I should think a bit of food would do it. She’s bound to be hungry,”

Terence said, staring out at the river. “Do you suppose she’s looking at the river as I am, ‘’mid the cool airs of Evening, as she trails her robes of gold through the dim halls of Night’?”

“Who?” I said, scanning the riverbank. “Princess Arjumand?”

“No,” Terence said irritably. “Miss Mering. Do you suppose she’s looking at this same sunset? And does she know, as I do, that we are fated to be together, like Lancelot and Guinevere?”

Another bad end, but nothing compared to the one we were all going to come to if I didn’t find that cat and get it back to Muchings End.

I stood up and began picking up plates. “We’d best clear things away and then get to bed so we can make an early start tomorrow.”

“Ned’s right,” Terence said to Professor Peddick, pulling himself reluctantly away from the river. “We’ll need to start early for Oxford.”

“Is Oxford necessary, do you think?” I said. “Professor Peddick could go with us down to Muchings End, and we could take him back later.”

Terence was looking at me disbelievingly.

“It would save two hours at the least, and there must be any number of historical sights along the river Professor Peddick could study,” I said, improvising. “Ruins and tombs and… Runnymede.” I turned to Professor Peddick. “I suppose it was blind forces that led to the signing of the Magna Carta.”

“Blind forces?” Professor Peddick said. “It was character that led to the Magna Carta. King John’s ruthlessness, the Pope’s slowness in acting, Archbishop Langton’s insistence on habeas corpus and the rule of law. Forces! I’d like to see Overforce explain the Magna Carta in terms of blind forces!” He drained his teacup and set it down decisively. “We must go to Runnymede!”

“But what about your sister and your niece?” Terence said.

“My scout can provide anything they need, and Maudie’s a resourceful girl. That was King John’s mistake, you know, going to Oxford. He should have stayed in London. The entire course of history might have been different. We won’t make that mistake,” he said, and picked up his fishing pole. “We shall go to Runnymede. Only thing to do.”

“But your sister and your niece won’t know where you’ve gone,” Terence said, frowning questioningly at me.

“He can send a telegram from Abingdon,” I said.

“Yes, a telegram,” Professor Peddick said and hobbled off toward the river.

Terence looked worriedly after him. “You don’t think he’ll slow us down?”

“Nonsense,” I said. “Runnymede’s down near Windsor. I can take him down in the boat while you’re at Muchings End with Miss Mering. We could be there by midday. You’d have time to wash up so you can look your best. We could stop at the Barley Mow,” I said, pulling the name of an inn out of Three Men in a Boat, “and you could have your trousers pressed and your shoes shined.”

And I can sneak out while you’re shaving and return the cat to Muchings End, I thought. If I can find the cat.

Terence still looked unconvinced. “It would save time, I suppose,” he said.

“Then it’s settled,” I said, scooping up the cloth and stuffing it into the hamper. “You wash the dishes and I’ll make up the beds.”

He nodded. “There’s only room for two of us in the boat. I’ll sleep by the fire.”

“No,” I said. “I will,” and went to get the rugs.

I spread all but two in the bottom of the boat and took the others into the clearing.

“Shouldn’t you put them near the fire?” Terence said, piling dishes up.

“No, my physician said I shouldn’t sleep near smoke,” I said.

While Terence rinsed the dishes, standing ankle-deep in the river with his trousers rolled up, I stole a lantern and a rope, wishing Professor Peddick had brought along a fishing net.

I should have asked Terence what sort of food cats ate. Some of the Stilton was left. Did cats like cheese? No, that was mice. Mice liked cheese. And cats liked mice. I doubted if we had any mice.

Milk. They were supposed to like milk. The woman running the coconut shy at the Harvest Fête had been complaining about a cat getting into the milk left on her doorstep. “Clawed the cap straight off,” she’d said. “Impudent creature.”

We hadn’t any milk, but there was a bit of cream left in the bottle. I pocketed it, a saucer, a tin of peas and one of potted meat, a heel of bread, and the tin-opener, and hid them in the clearing, and then went back to the campfire.

Terence was digging in the boxes. “Where has that lantern got to?” he said. “I know there were two in here.” He looked up at the sky. “It looks like rain. Perhaps you’d better sleep in the boat. It’ll be a bit crowded, but we can manage.”

“No!” I said. “My physician said river vapors were bad for my lungs,” a pathetic reason since I had just had my physician recommending a trip on the river for my health. “She said I should sleep inland.”

“Who?” Terence said, and I remembered too late that women hadn’t been physicians in Victorian England. Or solicitors or prime ministers.

“My physician. James Dunworthy. He said I should sleep inland and away from others.”

Terence straightened up, holding the lantern by its handle. “I know Dawson packed two. I watched him. I’ve no idea where it got to.”

He lit the lantern, removing the glass cover, striking a match, and adjusting the wick. I watched him carefully.

Professor Peddick came up, carrying the kettle with his two fish in it. “I must notify Professor Edelswein of my discovery. The Ugubio fluviatilis albinus was thought to be extinct in the Thames,” he said, peering at it in the near-darkness. “A beautiful specimen.” He set it down on the hamper and got out his pipe again.

“Shouldn’t we be going to bed?” I said. “Early start and all that?”

“Quite right,” he said, opening his tobacco pouch. “A good night’s sleep can be critical. The Greeks at Salamis had had a good night’s sleep the night before.” He filled his pipe and tamped the tobacco down with his thumb. Terence took out his pipe. “The Persians, on the other hand, had spent the night at sea, positioning their ships to prevent the Greeks from escaping.” He lit his pipe and sucked on it, trying to light it.

“Exactly, and the Persians were routed,” I said. “We don’t want that to happen to us. So.” I stood up. “To bed.”

“The Saxons, too, at the Battle of Hastings,” Professor Peddick said, handing his tobacco pouch to Terence. They both sat down. “William the Conqueror’s men were rested and ready for battle, while the Saxons had been on the march for eleven days. If Harold had waited and allowed his men to rest, he would have won the Battle of Hastings, and the whole course of history might have been changed.”