The Time Travelers' Club: Chapter 27 -- Losing Sam

Chapter 27 – Losing Sam

Mrs. Steers and Sam rushed to the main entrance of Madame Tussaud's exhibition.  The crowd began to fade away like ghosts de-materializing.   The gas chandeliers and sconces gradually came on.  Their flickering flames illuminated the exhibit hall, the main entrance, and the sidewalk in front of the building.  The exhibition had closed.  The crowd was gone.

Outside, it was night time.  The gas street lamps glowed bright.  Carriages rattled by taking.  In A bell tolled nine times.

"Mrs. Steers," said Sam with a look of awe.  "What just happened?  When we arrived, it was in the afternoon and now it's night. We weren't in there that long."

"Good question, Sam.  And no, we weren't.  I refer to what we just experienced as a hiccup in time.   We skipped ahead by several hours.  Thanks to that clock chiming nine times as well as those clocks in that window.  We know it is nine o'clock at night."

Mrs. Steers pointed to a stone-block store front.  A clock-shaped sign hung on a scrolled metal bar extending from the front of the building.  In gold and black letters, it read "D. Buchanan, clockmaker and repairs."  Inside, a brass gaslight shone behind the clockmaker who was winding each clock displayed in the window.  All kept a steady tick-tock pace and read exactly nine-o'clock.

"What luck to find a clock shop when we needed to know the time," said Mrs. Steers.  Sam backtracked to his question about the people at the museum.

"That was eerie," said Sam. "Those people back there at the museum.  They just faded away.  Kind of creepy." Sam and Mrs. Steers strolled along the sidewalk.

Mrs. Steers grinned. "Time-travel has its oddities. You have so much to learn. How are you enjoying your first trip? 

"I've learned a lot. I have way too many notes for my paper. This morning, I kept thinking how crazy you were. No offense, but that's what I thought."   "I totally understand.  I was ready to put Albert in a mental institution when he started talking about this mumbo-jumbo.   That book changed our lives.   I haven't told you this but that book has incantations for more than time-travel.   There's so much more to learn."

That did it.  Excitedly, Sam said. "Like what?"

"Oh, things to make time-travel more interesting. Some forms of magic, some spells, charms."

"Spells? Charms?  You mean like witchcraft?  Cool!" Sam's curiosity boiled over.  "Can you teach me some of them?"

"Sam, I want you to remember why we are here.  Your report. Besides, this is your first time-traveling experience.  Take time to let it sink in.  I am not going to teach you anything else right now.   Let's work on the basics first like the incantation that got us here…"  Sam reeled in his curiosity as best he could.

Sam flash-backed to the last Christmas with his Dad and how he could hardly wait for the morning to arrive.  That particular year, he had begged for one of the newest building block sets, but his parents threw out the same spiel.

"Sam, patience.  You have to wait sometimes before you get what you want."

They walked in silence, passing closed shops, dark and shuttered for the night.  Streets were lined with stone row houses.   A stately clapboard church sat waiting for its next Sunday morning.  The gas lamps illuminated the brick sidewalks.  Nearby, a bell tolled; this time eleven clangs.

"Eleven?" Sam could see the clockmaker's shop sign a couple of blocks behind them.  "Mrs. Steers, did we just experience another hiccup in time?"

Mrs. Steers nodded.  "Strange, isn't it?"  Time had jumped two hours and she had a mission.  Jameson would be waiting and she had to leave Sam alone, somewhere safe.  It was time to put her plan in motion.

"It's getting late.  How far is it back to Whitechapel?" asked Sam.  "We don't want to miss Jack the Ripper."

"Hmmm… good question. Let me check." Mrs. Steers studied her map.  "It is a distance.  Perhaps we should use the quick way."

Seconds later, they stood at the corner of High Street and Commercial Road in Whitechapel.

"Sam, how about we go back to St. James's Place where we first arrived?" said Mrs. Steers.

Sam got out his notebook.  "We might catch a glimpse of Catherine Eddowes again or, even better, Jack the Ripper himself."

"These streets aren't lit well, are they? I wish there were more lamps," said Mrs. Steers.

"I have a flashlight in my bag."  Sam dug to the bottom and pulled out a small silver flashlight.  Its beam illuminated the stone sidewalk.  A couple of times, Sam accidentally shone it on people's faces but they were unaffected by the sudden flash of light.   He started waving it around, flashing it in anyone's face, until he did it to Mrs. Steers.

"Sam, please..." grumbled Mrs. Steers.  "I'm affected by the light unlike those people."

"Sorry," said Sam.

They worked their way through several side streets until they saw a sign with Duke Street on it.

"And here we are… St. James's Place," announced Mrs. Steers.

"Yep, I remember that." Sam pointed to the fire brigade station in the square's center. 

Behind them, a policeman carrying a box-shaped lantern at his side entered the square.  He lifted his lantern and peered into the shadows.  The whole square looked different in the dark.  Sam recognized a couple of the names on the buildings and some of the storefronts.

"Just think, we could be looking at Jack himself at any moment," speculated Mrs. Steers as the policeman strolled out of the square.

"I was just thinking he could be Jack," replied Sam.

"Tell me more about Jack the Ripper and Catherine Eddowes," said Mrs. Steers.

"Well…" Sam opened his notebook and scanned it with his flashlight.  Trying to read and walk at the same time was difficult.  "His true identity was never discovered.  They had lots of suspects.  He killed six women that they know of.  The newspapers called him Jack the Ripper because he ripped his victims apart."

"How awful!"  Mrs. Steers listened while Sam read on.  He stopped reading because Mrs. Steers had stopped walking.  Somewhere in the night, another bell chimed.

"Did you hear that?" said Mrs. Steers.  "That clock only partially chimed.  It must be quarter past the hour.... But what's the hour?"  

At that moment, another two policemen walked around the corner.

"It's pretty quiet tonight, don't you think, George?" said one.

"Ey, it is.  What time do you ‘ave?"

"Last I checked it was one o'clock and with that bell..."

Sam imitating the policemen's accents. "We do ‘ave good luck with finding out the time.  Another one of those ‘iccups.  I've never been up this late." 

Mrs. Steers had to meet Jameson at one-thirty.  She debated about leaving Sam, tempted to change her plan and take him with her.  Peering into the dark corners of the square, she saw a shadow move.  Rose stepped into the light under the gas light and nodded, then disappeared back into the dark. Mrs. Steers felt a little better.

I know it has to be done.  Now is not the time to explain to him the real mission of our trip, thought Mrs. Steers trying to comfort herself.  Sam had returned to reading his notes using the flashlight.

"Enough notes for your paper?" asked Mrs. Steers.

"Yes, more than I need.  I should get an A for sure."

"Why don't you make sure you have written down as much detail as you remember, while I sit for a moment and rest?  Go over there under that gas lamp.  You can save the batteries in your flashlight." Sam switched it off unaware of Rose hiding nearby in the shadows.

"Good idea," said Sam.

Without noticing Mrs. Steers moved towards the square's entrances.  

Busy reading and writing down notes, Sam didn't notice Mrs. Steers vanish.