Written for a remix challenge as a remix of fififolle's Examination: .. That was a missing scene from episode 1 so I wrote this as a missing scene from Primeval by Gaslight.

Beta'd by the lovely fredbassett who is not responsible from the shifting tense (I liked it and intend to blame Ryan for it) or the punctuation of speech (Bram Stoker's fault).

Letter, Capt. T. Ryan to Lt. J. Lyle

My Friend-

I've found myself caught up in a bit of an adventure back here in Blighty. I've been seconded to a group under the aegis of Sir James Lester, from the Home Office. He isn't a military man but, so far, he has impressed me with his good sense. I think you would like him. I'm afraid I am not at liberty to give many details but I am no longer as sorry as I was to be unable to accompany you to India.

The job involves working with an Oxford don called Professor Nicholas Cutter. I will tell you of a conversation we had, since I think it will amuse you and provide a character sketch of the man which you might find of interest.

I will describe his looks first. He is past the first flush of youth but still, I think, very young to be a professor. He has blond hair which he wears to just below his ears, as is the fashion. His chin is clean-shaven but he does have a creditable moustache. He does not, I think, exercise a great deal although he is by no means fat and he has certainly never studied the pugilistic arts which brings me to the start of my brief scene.

The Professor and I had just returned from a dangerous expedition. During the course of this, we had engaged in a disagreement which unfortunately came to blows. Unsurprisingly, the Professor had come off the worse and, in fact, I had had cause to knock him out with the butt of my Enfield.

This event gave me some concern, as you can imagine. A knock-out blow is never a good thing and the effects can take a while to show. You and I know this, but I was less sure of the Professor's acquaintance with such facts.

When I had resolved to take the matter up with him he was talking to his colleague, a young man by the name of Stephen Hart, and a Miss Claudia Brown, an employee of Sir James'. His face was pleasantly animated and it was clear that he appreciated the company.

I walked up to the little group and broke into their conversation with an: "Excuse me, Professor, can I have a word, please?" "What about, Captain?" he asked. His tone was challenging. He had not, I think, forgiven the blow.

I wished to give him an opportunity to keep our little tussle private. I had had clear orders from Sir James, so had no fear of repercussions, but I did not wish to damage his dignity before his young colleague and the lady. I did feel the need to examine his injuries, however, and wished to discuss the matter before it could fester.

"I need to check your neck, Professor. We need to talk," says I, a trifle stiffly, I imagine.

Professor Cutter nodded and smiled and, to my surprise, he said: "Oh, aye, because you knocked me out cold? Worried you might have cracked my skull, yes"
You will gather, from this, that the Professor originates from north of the border. An Edinburgh man, I think, though I am no expert on the Scottish accent.
The others looked shocked at this revelation but I declare his smile was genuine. I've always admired a man who can take a deserved beating with good humour. I think I began to like him then and there. While we had disagreed previously, his reasons were understandable and, all things taken together, he had handled himself well.

"Maybe," I said and then: "Will you come with me so I can take a look"

"Yes, of course, Captain Ryan, lead the way"

So I begin to explain to him the sorts of things a soldier watches out for in such a circumstance. But he cuts me short.

"Yes, all right, Captain, no need for the lecture. I teach anatomy"

Nevertheless, he did let me examine him. The troops had set up several tents and we repaired to one where we would have a little privacy. It was growing dark but there were Davy lamps. I lit one and set it by the Professor, letting it cast its light on his head and neck. I had hit the base of the neck. It had not yet started to bruise enough for me to discern in the lamplight, but, by feeling the vertebrae and muscles, I located the place by the sound of the Professor's breath.

"Looks like you found the right b--- spot," he said.

So I apologised and sat down. "I think you'll live," I said and followed it up with: "I did my job perfectly." I wanted him to understand that I know what I'm doing when I put a man down.

He was rubbing at his neck where my blow had landed. "Good for you, Captain," I heard him mutter. His brow furrowed and I could tell he was thinking about the matter further. Then he stares at me and says: "So that's why you didn't hit me again"

"Once was more than enough," I said. "I don't think Miss Brown would have been too pleased if I'd killed you." I referred here to Sir James' pretty employee. I feel sure she admires the Professor but I was curious to see if he admired her in turn. "I had to use other tactics," I then said, for my blow to his head had not been the final end of our argument.

"Aye," he says. "Playing on my d----d emotions"

I suspect this is a true flavour of his conversation when there are no ladies present. Some day we should invite him to the mess to meet Major Preston.
I did not comment on his language. It is refreshing at any rate to think I do not need to be overly careful with mine in his presence. So I said-

"I thought it was the idea of being stuck with me that clinched it." I could see, by the look in his eye, that this was not the case and, I confess, the thought that he liked me as much as I liked him, pleased me greatly. "And I avoided breaking your face, too," I said, though I held his chin to check, for he had fallen on the ground.

He then apologised to me once more and made reference to his wife who, I understand, deserted him some years ago. I have not pressed on that matter, though it is clear there is some scandal there which must be hard for a man in his respectable position. I have always been glad that I have managed to keep my own affairs free of scandal and I am sure that you feel the same. Still, I find it hard to entirely blame a man for the behaviour of his wife and I felt a great deal of sympathy for him which I hope I managed to convey with a companionable look and touch.

I told him that I understood his position. Then he asked after my own family and confessed that he had worried that he might trap me away from them, in pursuit of his own quest. I was touched by his concern and shook my head:- "I have no ties," I told him and smiled to let him know that, in future, he need not hesitate on that score. Of course I know I have many friends, such as your good self, but we see each other so little, therefore I do not think the circumstances he referred to would affect us greatly.
Then he smiles back at me with mischief in his eyes: "Oh. Well then. Next time we can just stay"

It looks likely that his wife's behaviour may have some bearing on this strange business of Sir James'. The Professor strikes me as both honest and hot-headed. If the lady is another such we shall have some trouble with her but, I suspect, it will not be so serious. However Sir James has taken to pursing his lips and frowning when she is mentioned. I fear that this is not simply in regard to the scandal of her disappearance but that he has more concrete information. In which case, I think there may be real trouble ahead. As we left the tent he calls out to me one more time. "Who should I contact?" says he: "if I get blurred vision"

I was well aware that he would have no trouble in such a circumstance. This was a joke at my mother hen attitude. However, I gave him my address and told him to wire me if he needed assistance.

I see this has become a very long letter and I have yet to tell you of Sir James Lester. It will, I think, have to wait until another day. Write soon and give me your opinion on the Professor.

Yours Always

Captain Thomas Ryan.