In the smoky gaslight of Heffer's drawing room, the Doctor's wasted form sat hunched in a cavernous red leather armchair, his tired eyes glazed as he watched the scene in front of him. A thickset man in his thirties sat astride a bicycle whose rear wheel had been replaced by a heavy brassbound iron drum that rumbled and clattered against its moorings as the man pedalled furiously.
Heffer himself stood at the centre of the room, soberly and immaculately dressed as always, everything perfectly in place down to his golden watch chain, observing progress over the tops of steel rimmed spectacles. He was posed with chin up, one hand curled behind his back, the other held up at chest height, as if in readiness for some dramatic gesture that never came. The dark waistcoat and jacket, every button securely fastened, stretched over his paunch and made him look fatter than he actually was, while his remaining lank hair, brushed forward over his scalp, merely emphasised his baldness. A thin, whiskery moustache, meanwhile, gave him the curious appearance of a teenager still unable to grow a real one.
"Put some effort into it now, Jeffries," he ordered. "Remember, thirty revolutions per minute are required for ignition."
Jeffries clenched his teeth and redoubled his efforts, the noise of the bulky contraption building up to a deafening cacophony as his breathing grew laboured and the sweat started to drip from his chin down onto his shirt. The Doctor's eyes followed the wires attached to the rear of the machine, and his mouth hung slightly open as he watched the large, primitive electric lightbulb flicker and then begin to emit a dim, steady glow.
"You see?" proclaimed Heffer. "It works!"
With a gasp of relief, Jeffries slumped forward over the handlebars and lifted his feet to let the pedals whirl round under their own momentum. The lightbulb instantly winked out and the Doctor looked up at his host.
"Remarkable."
A pursing of the lips was the closest Heffer came to a smile, but his whole body gave a slight wriggle of pleasure at the compliment, as if climbing into a warm bath.
"I was sure you'd understand the implications of my invention, Doctor. The prototype is cumbersome, as you see, but I believe I can increase the efficiency to the point where it could light as many as five or six lamps at once. Imagine it! A whole room could be lit by the muscular effort of a single man."
"And you say the Royal Society weren't impressed?"
Heffer sniffed indignantly.
"Their minds are closed to the new, I fear. They claimed that it was impractical to expect one man to operate the machine throughout the course of an entire evening. Naturally I explained that I was suggesting no such thing. That as each servant became exhausted he would be replaced with another. But..."
"Doctor!"
Heffer was so dumbfounded at the experience of having his monologue interrupted that he stumbled into silence and only stared, moustache bristling furiously, as Jasmine rushed in.
"Doctor!" she cried, enthusiasm radiating from every pore. "I've brought you the thing I found on the beach this morning. See what you think of it! It's so strange..."
"Jasmine!"
Heffer had recovered quickly, and his voice was high pitched and outraged. Jasmine instantly froze, straightened like a soldier, and bowed her head and folded her hands in front of her in a much practiced pose of demure submission. Heffer was not to be mollified.
"Jasmine, what on earth do you think you're doing? How dare you interrupt our conversation?"
"Sorry, sir," came her murmured, automatic response.
"I trust so. I am quite shocked, after all the money I have spent on your education, to find yet again that you are either ignorant or contemptuous of the most basic rules of polite society. If your parents were here they'd be ashamed."
There was a pause, but all she said, in an unchanged tone of voice, was:
"Sorry, sir."
"Go to your room. I don't want to see or hear you again until tomorrow, and then we'll discuss this further."
Jasmine's eyes flickered around the room, and made contact with the Doctor's, but after a moment he looked down at the carpet and she fled. Heffer paused while the sound of her footsteps receded upstairs.
"I must apologise, Doctor. For her parents' sake I've done my best, but I'm afraid my most strenuous efforts to turn the girl into a lady have met with little success."
The old man's hand shifted on the arm of the chair in a dismissive wave.
"She's young."
"Not so very young. She'll be eighteen next month, and it will be high time for me to see about finding her a husband. I'm afraid her attitude and manners won't help. I had considered marrying her myself, but I'm sure you'll understand given this latest scene that my compassion for the girl can only extend so far."
"Good grief."
"I'm sorry?"
The Doctor looked up and spoke more clearly.
"She's very bright, you know."
"Ah, yes. Too bright for her own good, I fear. But she's pretty enough when she can be persuaded to take the trouble, and with my own position I'm sure a decent match can be arranged. Then once she's out of the house perhaps you and I can pursue our scientific discussions without interruption."
The Doctor's chin sank back down onto his chest.
"What fun."
Heffer himself stood at the centre of the room, soberly and immaculately dressed as always, everything perfectly in place down to his golden watch chain, observing progress over the tops of steel rimmed spectacles. He was posed with chin up, one hand curled behind his back, the other held up at chest height, as if in readiness for some dramatic gesture that never came. The dark waistcoat and jacket, every button securely fastened, stretched over his paunch and made him look fatter than he actually was, while his remaining lank hair, brushed forward over his scalp, merely emphasised his baldness. A thin, whiskery moustache, meanwhile, gave him the curious appearance of a teenager still unable to grow a real one.
"Put some effort into it now, Jeffries," he ordered. "Remember, thirty revolutions per minute are required for ignition."
Jeffries clenched his teeth and redoubled his efforts, the noise of the bulky contraption building up to a deafening cacophony as his breathing grew laboured and the sweat started to drip from his chin down onto his shirt. The Doctor's eyes followed the wires attached to the rear of the machine, and his mouth hung slightly open as he watched the large, primitive electric lightbulb flicker and then begin to emit a dim, steady glow.
"You see?" proclaimed Heffer. "It works!"
With a gasp of relief, Jeffries slumped forward over the handlebars and lifted his feet to let the pedals whirl round under their own momentum. The lightbulb instantly winked out and the Doctor looked up at his host.
"Remarkable."
A pursing of the lips was the closest Heffer came to a smile, but his whole body gave a slight wriggle of pleasure at the compliment, as if climbing into a warm bath.
"I was sure you'd understand the implications of my invention, Doctor. The prototype is cumbersome, as you see, but I believe I can increase the efficiency to the point where it could light as many as five or six lamps at once. Imagine it! A whole room could be lit by the muscular effort of a single man."
"And you say the Royal Society weren't impressed?"
Heffer sniffed indignantly.
"Their minds are closed to the new, I fear. They claimed that it was impractical to expect one man to operate the machine throughout the course of an entire evening. Naturally I explained that I was suggesting no such thing. That as each servant became exhausted he would be replaced with another. But..."
"Doctor!"
Heffer was so dumbfounded at the experience of having his monologue interrupted that he stumbled into silence and only stared, moustache bristling furiously, as Jasmine rushed in.
"Doctor!" she cried, enthusiasm radiating from every pore. "I've brought you the thing I found on the beach this morning. See what you think of it! It's so strange..."
"Jasmine!"
Heffer had recovered quickly, and his voice was high pitched and outraged. Jasmine instantly froze, straightened like a soldier, and bowed her head and folded her hands in front of her in a much practiced pose of demure submission. Heffer was not to be mollified.
"Jasmine, what on earth do you think you're doing? How dare you interrupt our conversation?"
"Sorry, sir," came her murmured, automatic response.
"I trust so. I am quite shocked, after all the money I have spent on your education, to find yet again that you are either ignorant or contemptuous of the most basic rules of polite society. If your parents were here they'd be ashamed."
There was a pause, but all she said, in an unchanged tone of voice, was:
"Sorry, sir."
"Go to your room. I don't want to see or hear you again until tomorrow, and then we'll discuss this further."
Jasmine's eyes flickered around the room, and made contact with the Doctor's, but after a moment he looked down at the carpet and she fled. Heffer paused while the sound of her footsteps receded upstairs.
"I must apologise, Doctor. For her parents' sake I've done my best, but I'm afraid my most strenuous efforts to turn the girl into a lady have met with little success."
The old man's hand shifted on the arm of the chair in a dismissive wave.
"She's young."
"Not so very young. She'll be eighteen next month, and it will be high time for me to see about finding her a husband. I'm afraid her attitude and manners won't help. I had considered marrying her myself, but I'm sure you'll understand given this latest scene that my compassion for the girl can only extend so far."
"Good grief."
"I'm sorry?"
The Doctor looked up and spoke more clearly.
"She's very bright, you know."
"Ah, yes. Too bright for her own good, I fear. But she's pretty enough when she can be persuaded to take the trouble, and with my own position I'm sure a decent match can be arranged. Then once she's out of the house perhaps you and I can pursue our scientific discussions without interruption."
The Doctor's chin sank back down onto his chest.
"What fun."