At the house on the Strand called The Level, Roger Rover was perplexed. No sooner had Abel Darkwater left the house by the water-gate, than with a great clattering and racket, a coach had pulled into the outer courtyard, and a distinguished gentleman had come flying through the inner courtyard, holding on to his hat as he ran, and demanding to see Sir Roger. It was John Dee himself, alchemist to Queen Elizabeth.
‘Darkwater!’ panted Dee. ‘He has been here, I know! Did he get it?’
‘If you are referring to the pieces of the clock, no, he did not. Indeed I bid him ask you to attend on me yourself over this matter, though I confess I did not expect you so soon.’
‘It was not I who sent him!’ said John Dee. ‘He is no longer my apprentice – I turned him out a month ago when I discovered his true motives and meddlings. He has put himself in the service of the dark powers.’
‘And the Magus?’ asked Roger Rover.
‘The man who calls himself the Magus is an impostor. He is no true alchemist. My spies tell me he is about to leave for France.’
‘Then mayhap he has taken Darkwater with him – there was some talk, some gossip, some rumour, of the city of London turned to gold.’
‘That cannot happen,’ said John Dee flatly. ‘Impossible. Gossip. Superstitious talk of foolish folk of the kind the Magus so easily deceived. That man is nothing to our purpose or interest, I do assure you. Yet, I believe it would be wise for you to entrust that timepiece to me.’
‘Why should I?’ said Roger Rover.
‘So that it is not stolen from you! It has a power, I admit, or it may have a power – I do not know. It has a history, and I must study it.’
‘It is not for sale,’ said Roger Rover. ‘I got it in Rome, you know. Very recently.’
John Dee laughed and sat down, fanning himself with his hat. ‘You were spying for the Queen, as well I know, and I know that this clock was given to you as a bribe!’
‘It seems that the Queen has spies to spy on her spies . . .’ said Roger Rover drily.
‘But of course,’ said John Dee. ‘She cannot be too careful . . .’ John Dee paused. ‘I know well,’ he said, ‘that the clock is in pieces because the Pope himself smashed it to the floor in front of the sorceress who tried to trade it for her life. You were in the room at the time.’
‘Yes, she was a woman of considerable authority – no doubt now burned to death.’
‘For witchcraft no doubt,’ said John Dee, ‘and yet I would like to see the pieces of the clock – may I?’
There was a pause, a long pause. Roger Rover took out the sea-stained bag once more, and John Dee examined the pieces, and in particular the strange pictures that decorated the twin faces of the clock.
‘The Timekeeper . . .’ said John Dee, more to himself than Roger Rover. ‘If it had the power that is claimed for it – then any man would prefer it to a thousand cities made of gold . . .’
‘But it is just a broken clock,’ said Roger Rover, returning the parts to the bag, ‘and it is my broken clock . . .’
John Dee left the house, Roger Rover taking him through the hall himself, carrying a candlestick. As he made his way back, he stopped to look at the statue of Jack’s mother. As he looked, he saw something very strange and very unlikely begin to happen before his eyes. The bleak stone chisels of her hair were turning to gold.