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If it was a clean wound? What did that mean? How could a wound be clean?
What had I done? I might have just killed a man!
The full realization of that almost made me sink to the ground again. But Gideon was holding me firmly. “Come on, we have to get back to the Temple. The others will be worrying.”
He obviously knew exactly where we were in the park, because he led me purposefully on along the path, past two women walking their dogs who stared at us curiously.
“I’m a murderer,” I whispered.
“Ever heard of self-defense? You were only defending yourself. Or rather me, come to think of it.”
He gave me a crooked smile, and it occurred to me that only an hour ago, I’d have sworn he would never admit to such a thing.
And sure enough, he didn’t.
“Not that it was at all necessary,” he added.
“Oh, so it wasn’t necessary? What about your arm? You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing. Dr. White will see to it.”
For a while, we went along side by side in silence. The cool evening air felt good. My pulse gradually slowed down, and my teeth stopped chattering.
“My heart missed a beat when I suddenly saw you,” said Gideon at last. He had let go of my arm now. Obviously he trusted me to stay on my feet by myself.
“Why didn’t you take a pistol?” I said crossly. “The other man had one!”
“In fact he had two,” said Gideon.
“Then why didn’t he use them?”
“He did. He killed poor Wilbour, and the shot from the second pistol only just missed me.”
“But why didn’t he shoot again after that?”
“Because back then each pistol fired only one shot, of course,” said Gideon. “Those neat little handguns you see in the James Bond films hadn’t been invented yet.”
“But they have been invented now! Why do you take a stupid sword into the past instead of a proper pistol?”
“I’m not a professional killer,” said Gideon.
“But that’s just … I mean, otherwise what’s the advantage of coming from the future? Oh! Here we are!” We had reached Apsley House on Hyde Park Corner. People out for an evening stroll, or jogging, or walking their dogs were giving us odd looks.
“We’ll take a taxi to the Temple,” said Gideon.
“Got any money with you?”
“Of course not!”
“But I have my mobile,” I said, fishing it out of my décolletage.
“Ah, the silver shrine! I might have known it was something like that. You silly—oh, give it here!”
“Hey, that’s mine!”
“Yes, and do you know the number?” Gideon was already punching it in.
“’Scuse me, dear.” An elderly lady was tugging my sleeve. “I just have to ask—are you from one of the theaters?”
