'The mad brother?' Anji remembered her conversation with Mrs Hemming. 'Sebastian? Why do you want to talk to him?'

'Well, Chiltern wanted me to. Only now he doesn't.'

'So naturally you're going to.'

'Well, I thought I would, yes.'

'Are you just being contrary, or do you have a theory?'

'I try to avoid theorising it boxes you in. I just want to know why Chiltern changed his Ah.'

The last was a soft exhalation. Anji looked up to where the Doctor clung to the grid. He glanced down and nodded, then pressed his face against the iron squares. 'Dr Chiltern...?'

Inside, the tall figure curled on the little bed stirred. 'Dr Chiltern,' the Doctor repeated quietly. The figure turned to face him. Well, of course, thought the Doctor. Twins. 'It's me,' he said. 'The Doctor. Do you remember me?'

Chiltern whichever Chiltern it was stared at him bewilderedly. He was unshaven and wearing white hospital pyjamas. The Doctor couldn't tell whether he was restrained.

'Can you come to the window?' Chiltern just stared. 'The window? Please. I'd like to talk to you.'

Unsteadily, Chiltern rose not restrained then, the Doctor noted with relief and came over. He looked at the Doctor in amazement, as if there were a griffin at the window. The Doctor smiled gently. 'Hello. How are you feeling?'

Tentatively, Chiltern put out a hand. He slid a finger through the grid and touched the Doctor's face, then flinched back.

'Do you remember me?'

Chiltern stared at him, hollow-eyed. 'Nothing to remember,' he said dully.

'We met about a fortnight ago.'

Chiltern shook his head very slowly. 'Nothing to remember. I'm... nothing.' He leaned close to the grid; the Doctor could feel and smell his cool, sour breath. Chiltern shut his eyes, put his lips against the iron, as near as possible to the Doctor's ear. 'I'm not here.'

'Dr Chiltern.'

But Chiltern turned away. 'Not here.' He lay again on the bed, his back to the window. After watching him a second longer, the Doctor let go of the grid and dropped beside Anji.

'Well?' she said.

The Doctor squinted up at the window, rubbing his sore palms. 'I don't know.'

'Don't know whether it's the brother?'

'Don't know which brother it is. Apparently they're twins.'

'Twins?' Anji glanced at the window, then back to the Doctor. 'Are you sure?'

'Identical, as far as I could tell.'

'I mean, are you sure there are only two of them? Could Chiltern be another of your fractures?'

'Oh,' he said in comprehension. He started back towards where they'd left Fitz and she followed. 'I don't think so. Each of the fractures simultaneously experiences what all the others are experiencing. That's not happening here. No, this looks like one of those stories with a Good Twin and an Evil Twin.'

'Which is which?'

'Ah,' said the Doctor. 'And what has either of them to do with our time problem?'

'Well, nothing, I suppose,' she said after a moment. 'But there's clearly something wrong here. We can't just leave it, can we?'

'No.' The Doctor glanced back at the window. 'I don't think we can.'

Chapter Thirteen.

The Doctor hadn't meant to fall asleep. As far as he was concerned, he just sat down on the settee while Fitz and Anji were going to investigate the cake situation, and the next thing he knew he was dreaming. It was the old one, the recurrent one, about his heart. The strange huge ceremonial hall. Sabbath. The pain. Screaming.

As so often in dreams, his emotional reaction didn't necessarily match the content. This time, he was for some inexplicable reason terrifically concerned that his heart was now outside his chest and exposed to the light. It wasn't a faux-vampire sort of fear he wasn't expecting the heart to burst into flames or crumble to dust. Anyway, the light was all wrong for that kind of nightmare firelight, not sunlight, and not very strong at that.

No, what he was absurdly upset about was simply that his heart, meant to spend its life unseen, had been touched by light, the dark chambers illuminated. A heart ought to remain safe in its aphotic home from birth till long after death, exposed by decomposition only to the sealed room of the coffin, if at all. This what was happening the raised, black and bloody organ, glistening in the light of the torches, was against nature against nature. Wrong. Un- The Doctor woke up. It was dusk, and there was a note on the table from Anji inviting him to join her and Fitz at Simpson's for supper.

A few minutes later, coat brushed and hat on head, he was out of the front door. He had only gone a few paces when he found that there was someone at his elbow. Glancing sideways, he wasn't entirely surprised to see Scale.

'Evening, sir,' said Scale obsequiously. He was hunched over a little, and his hands were clasped in front of his chest.

'Mr Scale,' the Doctor responded formally. 'What can I do for you?'

'Well, I come up here all the way up here, sir, and, mind, it were a journey to apologise to you, truth be known. Truth be known, I'm a bit ashamed of the way I behaved yesterday. I'm afraid I might have been a bit the worse for drink. I hope you're not bearing any grudge.'

'No, no,' said the Doctor lightly. 'All of us lose control at one time or another. I dare say you'd had a bad day.'

'That were it, sir. Very trying. The pressures of the entertainment profession, if I may say so, can be excruciating. I was not quite myself. So I hope you'll accept my apologies.'

'Think nothing of it.'

'Oh, thank 'ee, sir. I knew you was a gentleman. I said to myself when I was debating coming to find you, he's a gentleman, make no mistake, and he won't turn away an apology made in good faith. I know that I reacted a bit strong to your comments. It's only that that mirror is very precious to me. And afterwards I thought, Micah, what a fool you've been, for here's a gentleman as I knew you was, sir who could have told you something about your mirror, maybe, and you've been violent towards him and driven him off. You do... know something about it, don't you, sir?'

'Yes.'

'Anything I realise how this must sound to you, after the way I behaved, but is there anything you'd not mind sharing with me? For it's a wonderful thing, and I know so little about it.'

'It's a bit complicated,' said the Doctor.

'Well, sir, if you have the time, I'd be more than pleased to buy you a drink to tell the story over.'

Can you spell 'trap'? thought the Doctor. T-RA-P. 'Why yes,' he said aloud. 'That's very generous of you.'

Scale led him to a somewhat down-atheel pub called the Flower and Dragon, a smoky, noisy place with a beer-slick floor. He deposited the Doctor at a table against the wall and pushed through the crowd to the bar, returning shortly with two whiskies. He set the Doctor's in front of him and pulled up his own chair. The Doctor noticed that Scale favoured his right hand, which was red and slightly swollen. He looked at his glass, wondering what had been put In it. Nothing expensive or hard to get. Probably laudanum.

'Here's to your forgiving nature, sir.' Scale raised his glass. The Doctor touched it with his and took a swallow. Definitely laudanum. At one time, he'd simply have drunk and swiftly metabolised it, but he wasn't confident that would work now in his new, unimproved condition. And he didn't want to be groggy while Scale carried out his no-doubtnefarious plan.

'Drink up,' said Scale with ghastly bonhomie. 'There's another where that one came from.'

The Doctor wondered briefly if he were wearing a little sign stuck in the band of his hat that read 'Stupid.' Apparently so. 'You say the mirror was one of a set?'

'A set of eight, sir.'

'And you acquired them where?'

'From an Eye-talian. But he said he come across them in Switzerland.'

The Doctor nodded wisely, wondering how they had got to Switzerland. Not that it really mattered. 'What do you think your mirror reflects?'

'Well,' Scale looked sly, 'don't like to guess, really, not being an educated man.'

'But you must have speculated.'

'Here now,' said Scale with an attempt at joviality, 'it's you who was supposed to have things to tell me.'

The Doctor smiled. 'Why yes, you're right. All right: Your mirror is part of a time machine.'

Scale's jaw fell. It would have been comic except for the glint of something cunning in his eyes. 'Now, you're playing with me, sir.'

'I assure you, I'm not. It's part of a time machine. Get me another drink,' the Doctor shoved his empty glass across, 'and I'll tell you all about it.'

Scale looked at the glass, surprised at how quickly the Doctor had drained it. Then he grinned. 'Right away.' As he shoved back through the crowd, the Doctor glanced at the floor, but it was so wet that his own dumped drink made no visible difference. Should he pass out now, or wait? There was really no necessity for further conversation: the mention of the time machine should have established his credentials as someone knowledgeable enough to carry through with kidnapping. Passing out now saved him from any more of Scale's fawning. And Scale would be extremely annoyed at having wasted money on an unnecessary second drink. He slumped over the table.

Sure enough, when Scale returned and found his victim already unconscious, he swore under his breath. Then he looked on the bright side at least the plan was underway and, draining off his own glass, dragged the Doctor up and assisted him out the side door into a smelly alley, where he relieved him of his wallet.

The Doctor exhibited just enough consciousness to wobble along if supported. He wondered whether he should sing but decided against it. He and Scale made their way to the mouth of the alley where Scale, after some difficulty, managed to persuade a cab to stop for them. They changed cabs twice more in what the Doctor assumed was a track-covering manoeuvre; each time he made himself heavier and harder to haul in and out. Scale was breathing hard when at last they alighted amid a tangle of mean, ill-lit streets and stumbled down another alley. At the end of this, in a junk-filled yard, stood a drooping-headed horse harnessed to a rickety cart. Scale gave some coins to a surly personage who'd been minding the horse and, with a last burst of strength, heaved the Doctor into the back of the wagon. It contained straw and old sacks, some of which Scale threw on top of him. The smell was a bit pungent but as the cart moved off the Doctor snuggled in comfortably: probably a good idea to get some sleep.

A small, alert part of his mind noted that they travelled for over an hour and at some point crossed the river. The rest of him lay limp as the sacking he was under. He shivered as he slept, and when he decided to wake up, he discovered that he had drawn himself up with his hands beneath his coat for warmth. The cart had stopped. The sacking was whisked aside and the Doctor squinted into a lantern flame. He smiled affably and let Scale help him out of the cart. 'Nice... you to help...' he mumbled.

'Just going to give you a lie down,' said Scale, pulling him along. It was very dark. The breeze was fresh and the Doctor felt grass brush his ankles. The blurred glow in the distance must be London; they were in the fields that still existed south of the city. The Doctor looked up and traced the Summer Triangle among the many stars. ft was comforting to see something so familiar before he stepped off into the unknown.

'Watch yourself here,' said Scale. The circle of lantern light fell on unstable looking, fold-down wooden steps that had once been yellow. These led to a door that still retained most of its bright paint. Scale's caravan. Scattered around in the dark were other bulky shapes, and the Doctor heard the shifting and snort of horses and smelled a recently put-out fire. This must be where the carnival people, or some of them, camped.

Scale led him up the shaky steps and through the door into the stale-smelling interior. Illuminated, this was cramped and messy. The Doctor saw a bunk with tossed-back, filthy sheets, crammed built-in cabinets, shutters fastened tight over small windows. Scale propped him carefully against the wall and tore the mattress off the bunk, revealing that its support had been a long, battered wooden box. The Doctor eyed this without enthusiasm. He wasn't crazy about being locked up in any case, but he was particularly averse to being locked up in tiny spaces. He wondered whether, if he slid to the floor in an apparent faint, Scale would settle for just tying him up there and leaving him. Probably not. Scale had heaved the lid open. The inside looked awfully narrow to the Doctor. Narrow as a coffin.

'A nice little lie down,' said Scale cheerily, as if to a particularly slow child. The Doctor put on his particularly-slowchild's smile and consented to be led to the box, though he balked at actually being pushed into it, insisting on lowering himself in with some vestige of dignity. 'That's good,' said Scale soothingly. 'Very good.' He took the Doctor's wrists and tied them together with a strip of rag. 'Now, I'll wager you'd like a nice sleep, wouldn't you?' He produced another rag, this one slightly damp. The Doctor smelled laudanum. He turned his head aside, but Scale caught him easily and pulled the cloth over his lace. 'There,' he cooed, knotting it in place, 'that'll keep you nice and peaceful.'

Not likely, thought the Doctor, and as soon as the lid closed he worked his hands up to his face and jerked the cloth away. The box still stank of laudanum but he'd have to put up with that. As he began freeing his clumsily-tied wrists, he heard a bolt shoot home on the outside of the box, then the mattress and bedcovers being replaced. Not a very sophisticated prison, but an effective one. The Doctor listened to Scale descend the creaky steps, then heard the cart rattle off. He sighed again and tried to get comfortable: though he couldn't draw his legs up, he could rail a little on to his side and cushion his head with one hand. He lay there and listened to the beat of his remaining heart and tried not to think about how near the walls were to him in the dark.

The box suddenly shifted. The Doctor stiffened, confused then it shifted again, and he realised that the caravan was rocking because someone very heavy was coming up the steps. Please, he groaned inwardly, don't let it be Sabbath. No more humiliation in that area, please.

'Doctor?'

The Doctor almost sat up in surprise but stopped himself in time. 'Hugo?'

'Are you all right? Soon have you out of there.'

The bedding thudded to the floor, the bolt scraped, and the Doctor found himself blinking up at the giant, who was bending over him with a lantern. 'I must say, this is a surprise.'

'You all right?'

'Yes, thank you, I'm fine.' The Doctor took the proffered hand and climbed out of the box. 'You're camped here?'

'About a hundred yards from here. There's a number of us uses this field.'

'Scale took a chance.'

'Well, we keep out of each other's business most times.' Hugo bent through the door, the Doctor following. Once outside, he straightened and stretched his spine. 'You get all types in the carnival trade. Best leave well enough alone. But Scale had the signs of being involved in something nasty. Can't have that. Bring the law down on one, it comes down on all of us. They don't make distinctions.'

'It's my good fortune you're so public-spirited.'

'I'm surprised it's you. You must have upset him something bad.'

'It seems so.'

'Cup of tea?'

'Well,' said the Doctor, 'as long as you're having one.'

Hugo fetched the tea things from his caravan and they sat out under the stars around a little stove. Before the kettle boiled, a sleepy, cross Vera appeared.

'Oh it's you,' she said to the Doctor without surprise.

'Micah's been messing up again,' said Hugo.

'Well, what a wonder that is. What's he done now?'

'Kidnapping.'

'Tsk,' she said. 'I hope there's enough water for three cups?'

'There is.'

'And are there three cups?'

'I brought an extra one just in case. Two extra, actually.'

'You think ahead, Hugo.' She settled herself in the grass. 'So, what'd he want with you?' she said to the Doctor.

'I'm not sure exactly.'

'Bound to be money in it.'