Three days previous Trudy and Spencer had been in a local pub. Having finished her meal, Trudy left her brother behind to tend to his social duties. He sat in a dark corner booth, not actually interested in having to deal with social niceties that night. The high back benches gave him privacy and solitude. It had been a busy week and the preparations of the machine were almost complete. Earlier, the twins had discussed it in detail over blood sausage and a drink. Spencer’s dark stout was almost finished, but Trudy had barely touched her wine, saying it was too bitter.
Emery Vance had been by to call upon Trudy earlier, ignoring Spencer except for a fleeting acknowledgement; and courted her in the manner that a peacock cross bred with a bull would woo a potential mate. He strutted around, boasting and speaking more to the crowd that was his audience, than to her. After a quarter hour of posturing (Spencer had timed it on his pocket watch), Emery made a grand exit, taking Trudy’s chin in his hand and giving a wink and a promise to return soon. Trudy was relieved when he departed, and left soon after so she would not have to see him again that night.
As a son of landed gentry with a large inheritance and a career in the jewel trade, Emery was a much sought after bachelor. He would take over the business soon. He had recently returned from a long visit to the family diamond enterprise in Drungia. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and smile that showed too many teeth, giving him an aggressive appearance. He always wore a diamond pin the size of a pigeon egg in his necktie and shirts that were too tight, and he made sure to remove his jacket and strut around in his waistcoat to show off his massive physique.
Emery did return. Women flocked around him, making noises like hens. He drew them close to him in a bear hug, and proceeded to ignore them after, ordering a tankard of ale and asking his chums about Trudy. Did she look forlorn when he left? Did she talk about him? Did she watch him as he walked out the door? Gimber Smith, his most devout flunky, proceeded to tell him the details, fawning over the larger man.
“How could she not be sad when you left?” the short, greasy man asked. “She threw herself on the table, and tried to talk about anything else except you so she wouldn’t chase you out the door and down the street!”
“Of course,” Vance replied, “I will have her as my wife. What woman wouldn’t want me? And my family name is much better than her ridiculous name. Who would want to be saddled with the name Tridington? And once we are married, I will have the rarest of gems in my possession. Then she can begin to give me many sons! She will welcome the escape from her horrid little life with that crazy old man with his stupid little machines.”
The men did not notice Spencer, but two men had noticed Emery. A tall, thin, bald man, dressed in black from head to toe stood and a small glass holding an amber liquid in his hand turned towards the bragging man. The thin man drew a monocle from his breast pocket and put it to his eye. He leaned on a polished silver walking stick, the handle of which was a grotesque - though finely wrought - octopus creature. He looked at Emery Vance much as a mantis looks at a smaller insect, head tilted. A thick man dressed in fine, but plain, clothes stood behind and to one side of the older man. The second man had a horrible disfigurement of the face, as if it had been partially melted. He moved with jerking, almost mechanical motions. His hand was in his pocket, as if readying a weapon. At that moment Spencer thought of the nickname ‘The Hideous Man’ for him.
“Is this the ward of Professor Tridington of which you speak?” the older man asked, rubbing at a brand on his left wrist. Everyone turned to look at the stranger.
Emery turned and looked at the stranger and his companion, sizing them up through the haze of pipe smoke, trying to decide if he could pummel them and how much effort it would take.
“Yes, she is the same,” Emery answered, annoyed to have attention taken from him. “Why do you inquire?”
“Well, because that would make it so much easier for someone of your obvious charm, power, and standing to entice her from such a dull and tedious life,” the newcomer said in a voice like oil over a brick. “I am a Doctor and a contemporary of Professor Tridington. I am curious, what sort of work is she being forced into doing?”
“Oh, crazy stuff!” Gimber interjected, coming to his friend’s aid. “I heard her speaking of a breakthrough. Said her uncle would travel through time!”
The pub broke out in raucous laughter, encouraging the chubby sycophant. Puffing up under the attention, he was about to go on until Emery pushed him to the side and stepped forward.
“Yes, it is insane. I can tell you all about it,” Vance said.
From his vantage point Spencer could see the marking on the thin man’s wrist. It was a symbol he has seen once before in an ancient tome his uncle had in the library. The young man found it by accident when looking for calibration notes for the machine. The text had writhed on the page, making the young man nauseous when he tried to focus on it. Waldorf had caught him flipping through the pages in a daze, and slammed the book shut, waking his nephew from his stupor. It was one of the few times he had seen his uncle angry. The older man insisted that he do a full examination of his charge that evening, and nightmares haunted the young man for over a week after.
Spencer felt that retreat was the better part of valor and slipped out the door before anyone could notice him, Doctor Terrible and the Hideous Man in particular. The nightmares returned to the young man that night, whispering to him in his restless sleep.