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myself in through the window where I
was confronted by the indignant Reverend Bunsen who got up to call the
conductor.
    “I wouldn’t do that Rev,” I
said.   “I might be tempted to tell your good
wife about the girls and their tunics.”
    The Reverend’s face became beet red
and he sat down heavily.   I noticed
Schrödinger’s bag in the overhead rack, took it down and opened the door
leading to the corridor.   The Reverend’s
relief at seeing me go was evident but even so, he had to try for the last
word.
    “Blessed is the man that endureth temptation; for when he is tried, he shall receive
the crown of life,” he intoned.   “The
general epistle of James.”
    “The only way to get rid of a
temptation is to yield to it,” I replied.   “Oscar Wilde.”

Chapter
XIX:
    Schrödinger’s
Bag – A Disguise – A Honeymoon – An Overheard Conversation
     
    I opened
Schrödinger’s bag when I got back to Sarah’s compartment and sure enough, there
was the dimensional translator.
    “What is it?” Sarah asked.
    “My only contact with the real
world,” I said, as I examined the device that had caused me so much trouble.

    I was glad
when the train got to Wiltshire.   At
least now I had a purpose.   Cruikshank,
the lawyer, had said that the dimensional translator had been stolen from HMIS
headquarters in Amesbury.   If Sarah’s
father could tell my how the device worked, it might show me a way to get back
home.
    But nothing in this life is ever
easy.   The station at Amesbury was
swarming with police, uniformed and otherwise, who no doubt were on the lookout
for a well-dressed peeress accompanied by a slovenly American.
    “Do you have a scarf in that trunk
of yours?” I asked Sarah.
    “I may do.”
    “Well wrap it around your face and
walk with a limp,” I said, as I reached for Reverend Bunsen’s bag.

    A nd so,
dressed as the Reverend Bunsen and his invalid mother, we ran the gauntlet of
watching police, one of whom was even so kind as to help me lift Sarah’s trunk
into a waiting cab.   I knew it would be
poor form to offer him money for his services so I presented him with Bunsen’s
copy of A Young Man’s Guide To
Self-Control and waved a genial blessing at him as we drove away.
     
    A s expected,
Sarah kicked up a major fuss about the notion of sharing a hotel room but I was
in no mood to listen to her ‘of all the effronterys ’
and ‘If you think I am going tos .’
    “For a suffragette you seem
surprisingly willing to assume the role of the persecuted maiden,” I said,
cutting her off in mid-sentence.   “Over
the last two days I have been arrested, beaten, arrested again, publicly
humiliated and forced to play Spiderman on the side of a moving train.   If you think I want anything more than a wash,
something to eat and a good night’s sleep, you overestimate your personal
attractions.”
    I could see she had a lot more to
say about my many behavioral deficiencies but she seemed to realize that now
was not the time to say them.   She even managed
to come up with a surrogate wedding ring from somewhere in the depths of her
handbag and kept her mouth shut as we checked in at the Amesbury Arms.

      “W e run a respectable establishment
here, Mister and Mrs. Liddel ,” said the beady-eyed
woman behind the counter.   “I take it you
can provide proof you are married.”
    “Indeed I can,” I said, retrieving
the registry office license from my pocket.   “We were married today.”
    “My congratulations,” she said, after
inspecting the document.   “We don’t often
get honeymooning couples in this part of the world.   Please let me know if there is anything we
can do to make your stay more pleasant.”
    “All we want is peace and quiet,” I
said.

    T he room was
pretty much what you would expect.   Greeny yellow wallpaper, worn hardwood floors and a brass
framed bed complete with knobby bits on the corner posts.   I was relieved to see it also featured wash
stand