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…”
    Isi spoke quickly to cut Nanook off. “Mr. Fergusson, is it? I thank you sir, for having tracked down my missing manservant. My husband, Count Solovyov, and I have just arrived from Russia to set up our household here, in London, and some of our staff seem to have gotten quite disoriented in the process.”
    Isi stopped and smiled at Harland, “I hope this one hasn’t been of any trouble to you,” she said, nodding in Nanook’s direction.
    “Oh, no trouble at all, my dear lady,” Harland said, and rose from his bar stool to bow and kiss Isi’s hand. “I was going to have Mr. K’eyush regale me with some of his stories of life back in his native India but, what with you being a Russian Countess and all, Madame Solovyov, I am quite sure that I’d rather listen to you,” Harland said with a wink.
    “You are too kind, Mr. Fergusson,” Isi said, “but I am afraid we will have to be taking our leave of you now. We have some duties to attend to before dark, not least of which is finding some appropriate clothing for our staff, especially Mr. K’eyush. I am sorry, by the way, that you had to be seen with our Indian in his bedclothes, Mr. Fergusson,” Isi laughed, and pointedly looked at Nanook.
    Nanook K’eyush was wearing the same clothes that he’d had on when he entered the Infinmachine, just a few hours before. Basic blue hospital scrubs had been his daily attire since he had joined the Immortality Project five years ago. Nanook quickly realized that in 1888, his clothes and the material that they were made from, combined with his large and dark skinned stature, made him stand out and seem to be not of this world.
    Harland joined in with Isi’s laughter and said, “Ah, and I thought the young man was just showing off some new fashion from Bombay.” Harland rested his hand on Nanook’s shoulder and continued, “He’s not a bad lad at all, Countess Solovyov, he’s just getting used to a new country … as are all of you, I suppose. It does occur to me that perhaps I could show you and Mr. K’eyush to the nearest tailor’s shop? I am not so sure that you’ll be able to find something, in his considerable size, right off of the rack.”
    Isi smoothed her dress, clasped her hands together tightly in front of her, and said, “Oh, I’m sure that if you’ll be kind enough to just point the way for us, we will manage to make our own journey without being any further encumbrance to you, Mr. Fergusson.”
    Harland’s cheeks flushed, and he bowed to Isi. “I assure you, it is no trouble to me at all, my dear Countess. Any assistance that I can provide to such a distinguished couple from the East, is my pleasure Madame.”
    Henry turned and bowed to Afon, “Harland Fergusson, at your service, sir.”
    Afon removed his hat and slowly nodded at Harland, “I am Count Solovyov, and I thank you for your kind offer of help, Mr. Fergusson. We will follow you to the tailor’s, whenever you are ready, my friend.”
    Afon smiled at Harland, but kept his lips tightly shut. He could feel his fangs almost throbbing with hunger. The trip in the Infinmachine had lasted only seconds, but seemed to have drained his energy drastically. He felt like he had not been fed in days, and the odor of the pub, while nauseating, was infused with the scent of so many humans that Afon’s mouth was watering. He had never felt such a primal urge. The sterile air of the laboratory on Thule Airbase, and the steady supply of donated blood there, had allowed Afon to never feel the murderous impulses that some of the other participants in Project Immortality had felt … until now.
    We’ve got to get out of here, Afon thought, and looked at Isi.
    Isi caught the meaning of Afon’s glance, and lightly touched Harland on the elbow. “Yes, Mr. Fergusson, do lead the way,” Isi said. “At your convenience, of course.”
    Harland was practically beaming at the attention. He signaled to the bartender that he would take care of his tab