“Like the evacuated children,” Mr. Dunworthy said. “Or the Phoney War. And that’s why you cut class and came all the way up here to convince me to let you go on assignment now, because you were afraid someone else might take the Phoney-”

“What about this?” the tech said, coming in with a belted tweed shooting jacket and knee-length knickerbockers.

“What is that supposed to be?” Mr. Dunworthy roared.

“A tweed jacket,” she said innocently. “You said-”

“I said I wanted to blend in-”

“I must get back to school,” Colin said, and made his escape.

He shouldn’t have said that about it being too late. Once Mr. Dunworthy got hold of something, he was like a dog with a bone. He shouldn’t have mentioned Polly either. If he finds out why I want to go on assignment, he won’t even consider it, Colin thought, heading toward the Broad.

Not that he was considering it now. Colin would have to think of some other argument to convince him. Or, failing that, some other way to get to the past. Perhaps if he could find out why Mr. Dunworthy was going to St. Paul’s, he could convince him he needed to take him along. The tech had said something about the jacket’s being from 1950. Why would Mr. Dunworthy go to St. Paul’s in 1950?

Linna would know. He turned down Catte Street and ran down to the lab but it was locked.

They can’t have closed, he thought. They said they had two drops and three retrievals to do. He knocked.

Linna opened the door a crack, looking distressed. “I’m sorry. You can’t come in,” she said.

“Why? Has something gone wrong? Nothing’s happened to Polly, has it?”

“Polly?” she said, looking surprised. “No, of course not.”

“Has something gone wrong with one of your retrievals?”

“No… Colin, I’m not supposed to be talking to you.”

“I know you’re busy, but I only need to ask you a few questions. Let me in and-”