'Yes.' The Doctor grinned. 'I've been to school this morning.'

'Learn anything useful?'

'I don't know about useful,' the Doctor confessed. 'But it was instructive certainly.' He gave her a brief summary of his experiences. 'It was as if once one of them could do it, they all could,' he concluded. 'I don't think it was a conscious thing.

Not telepathy, even dormant or nascent telepathy. A sort of collective learning.'

'They all go to school together,' Peri said. 'Perhaps they're just used to learning as a group.'

'Hmm,' the Doctor said. He said it in the same tone of voice he would have used for 'No, don't be silly.'

'Is that what happened to the sheep, do you think?' Peri asked. 'Some sort of collective behaviour?'

'Well, it does sound like it,' the Doctor agreed. 'I'm not a great fan of coincidence.'

'Nor am I,' Peri said.

'Hmm. Small world.' He frowned. 'Let's a.s.sume that one's genuine, shall we?' He tapped his empty gla.s.s on the table as he considered. The noise carried across the near-empty pub and after a few taps he set the gla.s.s down again.

'You say that Mrs Painswick -'

'Hilly,' Peri said with a broad smile.

The Doctor continued undeterred and apparently without noticing. 'You say that Mrs Painswick mentioned the sheep had only been behaving like this for a few weeks?'

'I think that's what she implied. I don't remember what she actually said.'

The Doctor let go of the gla.s.s and tapped his fingers together. 'And Miss Devlin said that the children had been playing more closely together recently. So what's changed?'

He frowned. 'Could it be the weather? She said something about that.'

'But it would be the same every year, wouldn't it?' Peri watched as the Doctor rolled the gla.s.s back and forth between the palms of his hands. 'Does it matter?' she asked slowly. 'I mean, is some sort of collective behaviour a problem?'

The gla.s.s paused between his palms. 'Not collective behaviour, no,' he conceded. 'Herd instinct, crowd mentality.

Not necessarily a problem.' The gla.s.s started moving again.

'But what if it goes further than that?' He frowned and set down the gla.s.s on the table. 'Collective thinking?' he mused quietly.

'Not caused by a change in the weather,' Peri suggested.

'I agree.' The Doctor sucked in his cheeks. 'For one thing, it wouldn't be limited to the island then.' His eyes widened as he recalled the conversation. 'The teacher, Miss Devlin, said that Sir Edward had spoken to the children a few weeks ago.'

'You said strangers disrupt things,' Peri reminded him.

'I did,' the Doctor agreed. 'I did. How long has he been here?'

'I think last night someone mentioned it was a couple of months.'

The Doctor flung himself back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. 'You know, I'd like to pay a visit on our friend Sir Edward Baddesley,' he said. 'After all, we haven't introduced ourselves to him yet.'

Liz Trefoil was glad to give the Doctor and Peri directions to get to Cove Cottage. They headed towards the church, almost tiptoeing past Mrs Tattleshall's house with fingers crossed that she would not see them. Once at the top of the street, there was a narrow path past the front of the church and down towards the backs of the houses. Cove Cottage was set back from this. They could hear the sound of the sea as they approached and guessed that there was indeed a cove behind the house.

The garden gate was closed and latched. The Doctor cheerily opened it and marched up to the front door. It was a postcard Elizabethan cottage; half-timbered, with a black thatched roof hanging low over the small upstairs windows. A rose rambled up the side of the door frame and across the lintel.

The Doctor hammered enthusiastically on the door. They waited, but there was no response.

'n.o.body home,' the Doctor declared with glee, rubbing his hands together.

'Back to the pub?' Peri asked. She was a little concerned at his att.i.tude.

'Oh, I think we'd better try the back door first,' the Doctor said. 'Then the windows,' he added. He was still rubbing his hands as he led the way round the side of the cottage.

The back door was locked as well. But far from expressing disappointment, the Doctor produced a long thin wire implement, hooked at one end and with a kink in the middle.

'Never fails,' he confided as he slid it into the ancient lock and jiggled it about.

Peri sighed and shuffled her feet as the lock clicked and the door creaked open. 'Is this a good idea?' she asked.

But the Doctor was already inside. 'Come on,' he said, 'don't hang about out there in the cold. There's work to be done, you know.'

They spent about fifteen minutes in the cottage. Peri spent most of that time glancing anxiously out of the window or entreating the Doctor to hurry. By contrast, he spent most of it rummaging through drawers and papers, with no apparent regard for the privacy of the house's occupant or anxiety about being caught.

'What if he comes back?' Peri hissed at him after ten minutes.

'Then he can tell us what he's up to.'

'What he's he's up to? What are up to? What are we we up to?' She was practically wringing her hands. 'If Sir Edward -' up to?' She was practically wringing her hands. 'If Sir Edward -'

The Doctor interrupted her. 'Uh-ha,' he said smugly. He was holding something. A small maroon-coloured booklet. He was tapping it against his palm. 'He's not Sir Edward Baddesley.'

'How do you know?' She was intrigued despite herself.

'Because this is his pa.s.sport. Look.' He opened the booklet and showed her the photograph. It was a younger version of the man they had seen in the pub, there was no doubt.

'So?' Peri asked.

'So this pa.s.sport is in the name of someone called Sir Anthony Kelso.'

Peri considered this. 'Why would he lie?'

'Perhaps we should ask him.'

'What, now?' She looked out of the window again. There was no one within sight.

'Now?' he seemed aghast. 'Now! No, of course not now,'

the Doctor chided. 'Now we look in the cellar.'

There was a door under the steep, narrow wooden staircase. Peri had dismissed it as a cupboard. But when the Doctor lifted the latch and pulled it open, she saw that it gave on to a flight of stone steps that led downwards. There was noise as well, a faint humming sound and something else - a regular beat.

As they started down the stairs, the noise grew louder. 'It sounds like an engine,' Peri realised.

'It is is an engine,' the Doctor told her. 'A petrol engine. Or perhaps diesel. A generator - you remember, they told us in the pub that he'd sneaked one in, and they didn't like it.' He reached up and pointed to the bare light bulb that was hanging above their heads from the sloping ceiling. It was so ordinary and expected that Peri had not even noticed it. But it was light down in the cellars. Electrically light. an engine,' the Doctor told her. 'A petrol engine. Or perhaps diesel. A generator - you remember, they told us in the pub that he'd sneaked one in, and they didn't like it.' He reached up and pointed to the bare light bulb that was hanging above their heads from the sloping ceiling. It was so ordinary and expected that Peri had not even noticed it. But it was light down in the cellars. Electrically light.

Sure enough, there was a small generator chugging away in the corner when they reached the bottom of the stairs. The cellar was large - as large, Peri estimated, as the footprint of the house. Like another floor set into the ground. It was open, a single huge room. There were wooden wine racks along one wall, decked with cobwebs. The other walls were whitewashed brickwork. In the middle of the floor was a large trestle table.

Beside it was another smaller table with what looked like a metal tool box on it. Along the wall behind were several filing cabinets and cupboards. A few books stood lonely and haphazard on a set of shelves.

'I think we've seen enough,' the Doctor said. 'For the moment, anyway.' He was whispering now, Peri noticed.

Perhaps he was getting nervous at last.

'Enough for what?' Peri asked as they made their way carefully back up the steps.

'Enough to know we should keep an eye on our friend Sir Edward,' the Doctor said. 'Or rather Sir Anthony.' He tapped the side of his nose and winked.

'So what's the plan?' Peri asked as the Doctor locked the back door and they made their way back round the cottage.

'Oh, I think you should keep watch on this cottage,' the Doctor said. 'Sit in the churchyard or something and watch out for Sir Edward.' He leaned towards her and added quietly, 'We'll call him Sir Edward for now, anyway, shall we?'

'Then what?'

'Then we'll call him Sir Anthony.'

'No, I mean then what shall I do? Once he returns?'

'Oh, keep an eye on him of course.'

'Great.' Peri paused at the churchyard gate. 'And where will you be?'

'I think I'll go and see the one other prominent member of the community we've not yet had the privilege of meeting,' he told her. 'I'm going over to Sheldon's Folly.'

He turned in time to see the tall, thin man rise up from the scrubland in front of him. He recognised him at once, could even put a name to him - Rogers. As he rose, he lifted a rifle to his shoulder, sighting carefully along it.

For a moment he stood, frozen in position, facing the gun.

He knew what it was, why they wanted him back. He knew he could not stand to be caught again. Was Rogers going to kill him? He certainly hoped so. But instinctively he dived away, trying to make the cover of a nearby bush, desperate to make use of what little protection it offered.

He was in midair, almost there, when he felt the sharp pain bite into his shoulder. As he landed, rolled, cried out, he looked down and saw the frayed end of the metal dart sticking out of his grubby shirt. Already the image was blurring, was going muzzy at the edges. He tried to stand, but fell down again at once. He lay there, staring up at the sky, knowing that before long he would see Rogers's face appear above him.

When it did, he saw that the man was smiling.

Then the world suddenly pitched round him as he was hauled up. He stared at Rogers's back, his mind numb, barely realising he was being carried. His arms swung free and limp.

His brain swam. Don't open the casket. Don't...But it was too late.

The sound of the sea was a rushing in his ears as the world continued to recede. The staggering, rolling journey down the steep hill was a jolting nightmare of confused images. He landed in the boat with a dull crack that barely registered as a pain in his back. Then the sound of the outboard motor drowned out what was left of his conscious thoughts and he relaxed into oblivion.

When he saw her coming, the Doctor considered his options.

He could pretend he had not seen her at all and turn off and head down the street. Or he could brazen it out and try to get away with a friendly 'Good afternoon', though it seemed unlikely that he would succeed. In the end he decided to try to turn the meeting to his advantage.

'Ah, good afternoon, Mrs Tattleshall. The very person,' he said before she could say anything. 'I'm so sorry to trouble you, I know how busy you must be. I'm in rather a rush myself, as it happens,' he confided, glancing round as if to check there was n.o.body else within earshot. 'I wonder if you could help me with something?'

She seemed surprised at his enthusiastic greeting. 'Of course, Doctor. If I can.'

The Doctor beamed ma.s.sively, his whole face a picture of glee. 'A boat,' he said.

'A boat?'

'A boat,' he repeated. 'Exactly so. I have an appointment with Mr Sheldon, at Sheldon's Folly.' He opened his hands to show just how much he needed her help. Just how bereft of boat he was. 'Any suggestions?'

Asked a direct question like this, Mrs Tattleshall seemed at a loss for words. 'Well,' she suggested. 'Er. I...'

The Doctor raised his eyebrows expectantly.

'The quay,' she decided at last. 'Old Jim is up at the quay.

He can probably lend you a boat.'

'Thank you.' The trick now, the Doctor decided, was to make his escape before she recovered sufficiently to get into her verbal stride. He was far enough away to be able to pretend he had not heard when she did start. 'They're a rum lot over there at the Folly,' she called after him. 'You mark my words. I wouldn't go over there if they paid me. Specially at night. Noises, lights.' She raised her voice still further in an effort to attract his attention. 'Goings-on,' she p.r.o.nounced carefully and ominously.

The Doctor half turned and gave her a friendly wave. It did not do to fall out with people. And she had, after all, been helpful.

Old Jim was easy to spot. He was sitting at the edge of the quay biting an unlit pipe and watching the Doctor approach.

Old Jim was a name that did not really do the man justice.