Grey leaned back, faintly amused. '15,000, you vagabond? Where would you get 15,000?'

For answer, the Doctor glanced around, then opened his coat and started to unwrap the Prince's silk standard from around his waist. Grey s.n.a.t.c.hed up the pistol and levelled it at him, but the Doctor continued unwrapping and then held up the standard, smiling. 'Here we have,' said the Doctor, 'the personal standard of Charles Edward Stuart, Pretender to the throne of England.'

Grey studied it in astonishment. 'Indeed,' he said.

'Whoever was entrusted with the standard stood closest to the council of the Prince, wouldn't you agree? He would also know where his master was most likely to run to.' The Doctor laid the standard on the table and Grey rose, placed the pistol on his side of the table, and came around to the Doctor's side to examine it. 'It's the Prince's standard, all right. Which prisoner carried this?'

'That must remain my secret for the time being,' said the Doctor.

Grey looked up sharply. 'There are ways to force your tongue.'

The Doctor smiled and shrugged. 'Why employ them, since we are both on the same side. The 30,000 reward for Prince Charles is surely enough to satisfy both of us.'

Grey came around to confront the Doctor, his eyes searching the Doctor's face. 'You have some fresh information on his whereabouts?'

The Doctor nodded and leaned forward confidentially.

'I am on the track of some,' he said, 'but... I need a free hand.' As Grey leaned forward to hear the Doctor's muttered confidence, the Doctor yanked the standard from the table over Grey's head, s.n.a.t.c.hed up the pistol and started forward. 'Please don't call out,' said the Doctor, 'I'm not very expert with these things, you know. I'd hate it to go off in your face.' The Doctor turned Grey around and tied him up with the Prince's standard, then took the handkerchief out of his pocket as he pushed him back into his chair. The solicitor opened his mouth to speak and the Doctor immediately looked at his throat. 'Open your mouth wide,' he said. 'Good heavens, it's swollen.' As Grey automatically opened his mouth, the Doctor stuffed Grey's lace handkerchief in it, effectively gagging him. 'Well,' he said, 'that's better. I've never seen a silent lawyer before.'

There was a knock at the door. Alarmed, the Doctor looked around the room. In the corner there was a large cupboard used to store mops, brooms, and other cleaning gear. The Doctor yanked the door open, then pulled Grey over and thrust him inside. 'If you'll just wait in there,' he said, 'I think I've got another patient.' He closed and fastened the cupboard door, went back to the table and sat beside it. 'Enter,' he called.

The door opened and Perkins came in, his face the picture of astonishment as he saw the Doctor sitting there.

For a moment he did not realise who the Doctor was.

'Oh, pardon,' he said, 'I thought...'

The Doctor leaned forward, slowly. 'You thought what?'

he said.

'Uh...' Slightly thrown, Perkins said, 'Well, Mr Grey.'

He looked around the room.

The Doctor shook his head sadly. 'Your master is a very sick man. He's gone to lie down. Lucky for him I was called in time.' As he spoke he was gradually raising himself in the chair and staring across at the short, fat Perkins who shrank back from the Doctor's intense gaze.

'Great Heavens, man,' the Doctor shouted, 'your eyes!'

Perkins jumped. 'What?'

'Your eyes. Come over here to the light. Bend back, here, that's right.' The Doctor strode around the table, pushed Perkins back over the table and, bringing out a magnifying gla.s.s from his capacious pockets, began to examine his eyes. 'Oh, I thought so, I thought so,' he said.

He seized Perkins' hair and banged his head back against the table. 'How does that feel?'

'Ow!' Perkins exclaimed.

'You suffer from headaches, don't you?' He banged his head again. 'Don't answer,' said the Doctor, 'I can see it in your eyes. Here...' Perkins raised his hand and tried to get up. 'Do you call me a liar, sir?' said the Doctor fiercely.

'N-n-no... no,' said Perkins. 'No. My head does ache.'

Abruptly the Doctor got up. 'Of course,' he said, 'what do you expect when somebody bangs it on the table.' He got up and Perkins, unsupported, slid down onto the floor, his back against the table. 'It's your eyes I'm worried about, man,' said the Doctor.

Perkins looked up, alarmed. 'What did you find, Doctor?' he said. 'My eyes?'

The Doctor shrugged at the door. 'Print blindness,' he said. 'You read too much.'

Perkins was really worried now. ''Tis true,' he said, 'I am a clerk. What must I do?' He rose to his feet.

The Doctor turned back. 'If you don't wish to go blind,'

he said, 'you must rest your eyes immediately for at least an hour.'

'But I'm busy,' said Perkins.

The Doctor raised his hand imperiously. 'That is my prescription. Ignore it at your peril.'

'Oh, dear me.' Perkins was really fl.u.s.tered now. He raised his hand to his aching head. 'I... It's true, I can see spots floating right in front of me.'

'Exactly,' said the Doctor.

'Now lie on that table.'

Perkins lay back on the table as the Doctor removed the little man's cravat and tied it around his eyes. 'Now, keep this around your eyes for at least an hour, to rest them. Do you understand?'

'B-but '

'One hour. Remember. You'll hear the clock outside strike the hour. Do not get up before.' The Doctor tiptoed back towards the door leaving the clerk on the table. As he did so, a m.u.f.fled thumping came from the cupboard.

Perkins reacted, listening, raised his head, then lowered it back again. 'What's that knocking?' he said.

'There's no knocking,' said the Doctor. 'It's in your head, in your mind, in your eyes. Just rest and the knocking'll get fainter and fainter and fainter.' The Doctor now reached the door and stealthily opened it.

'One hour, Doctor?' Perkins queried.

'One hour,' confirmed the Doctor. The Doctor blew his a kiss and then exited. As he did so, the m.u.f.fled knocking from the cupboard grew louder.

9.

The Doctor's New Clothes 'At last!' said Algernon. 'What took you so long, you jackanapes you?' Algernon was looking up to see the Sergeant holding a lantern over the pit. He was tired, cold and very stiff; and the belt and straps cut into his arms and legs.

'We made the best time we could, Sir,' said the Sergeant. ''Tis hard to see our way in the dark.' He spoke a little huffily. The last thing he expected to see was his officer tied and bound.

'Well don't just stand there,' said Algernon. 'Get me out of this infernal hole.'

The Sergeant turned to his men. 'Right you two.

Keep watch by the Lieutenant's horse. I'll handle this.'

'Hurry up, man,' said Algernon. 'Help me out.'

The Sergeant looked down. 'It's very deep, Sir.'

Algernon said, 'Get me out at once, or I'll order you ten lashes!'

'Oh, don't mistake me, Sir,' said the Sergeant. 'I'm willing enough to try, it's just that...' He paused for a moment. 'We're not used to pulling officers out of pits, you see.'

'Confound you, man, what are you jabbering about?'

'What I mean to say Sir, officers don't usually fall into pits, do they?'

Algernon, understanding him, glared up. 'You'll regret this, Sergeant,' he said.

'Oh, not me, Sir,' said the Sergeant, 'it's the men I'm thinking of. They're not used to it like. They're going to be rather curious and I wouldn't know what to tell them, would I? Curiosity makes them very dry, you see.'

Algernon groaned. The British army, like every army of that time, was run almost entirely on small bribes or threats. He realised he was in no position to offer the latter.

'All right, Sergeant, I'll see you get some money to drink with. And I hope it chokes you. I have some money in my ' He stopped, remembering what had happened to the money he carried. 'You'll get it when we return to Inverness. Now for the last time, get me out of here.'

The Sergeant started scrambling down over the edge of the pit.

Trask entered the inn room where he had left the solicitor and gazed in astonishment at Perkins, lying on the table.

'We've started shipping them ' he began. Then, 'What the blazes are you doing?'

Perkins turned his head slightly. 'I'm resting my eyes.'

'd.a.m.n your eyes,' said Trask. 'Where's your master?'

The knocking from the cupboard suddenly resumed, louder than ever.

'The Doctor said he must rest too.'

'Rest!' said Trask. He went to the cupboard, undid the catch and pulled it open, then reached in and hauled the solicitor out. 'And what have we here, then?'

Perkins sat up, took off his blindfold, and reacted in horror as Trask ripped off Grey's gag.

'A pretty sight you look, lawyer,' he laughed. 'And what may this be a cure for St Vitus's Dance?'

'Release me,' said Grey, in a cold fury.

Trask, still laughing, started unwrapping the flag then, seeing what it was, held it up to the candlelight and examined it. Grey rubbed his arms to get the circulation back and then went over to the cowering Perkins.

'You let him escape, you idiot!' he said.

'I did not know. Uh... my head...'

'One more such folly,' said Grey, 'and it'll be cured forever.'

Trask turned holding up the standard. 'The Prince's standard,' he said.

Grey nodded. 'Aye, he used it to trick me. But he won't get far.' He turned to Perkins. 'Call the watch.' Then to Trask, 'And you get the next batch of prisoners aboard before they get here.'

Perkins, relieved to have got off so lightly, scurried away down the corridor, looking for the soldiers of the watch who patrolled Inverness at night. They were often to be found in the tap room of the inn. As he ran past the scullery, he didn't notice the Doctor crouched under a table laden with dirty, greasy pewter and wooden platters.

At the sink there was a large, red-faced buxom woman, working a pump handle and dipping the dishes in the cold stream.

'Mollie!' The coa.r.s.e rough voice echoed from the corridor. 'Where are ye? You're wanted here.'

Mollie, for that was the woman's name, turned wearily, wiping her hands on her ap.r.o.n. 'Bide a wee,' she called, 'I'll be there.' She turned and shuffled out of the scullery.

Once he was sure she was out of sight, the Doctor crept out from under the table and looked around him. The room was a long combined scullery and wash house. At one end there were two large wooden tubs full of soaking clothes, mostly sheets and linens. And even more interesting to the Doctor, along one wall which obviously backed onto the main fireplace of the inn because of the warmth coming through, was a long clothes-line covered with clothes of the period. To his disgust, the Doctor saw that they were all female clothes: large gowns, petticoats, ap.r.o.nssome plain, some heavily embroidered. The Doctor shrugged and turned to the door, then got an idea and turned back. He looked around carefully, and then took his coat off and started taking down some of the clothes off the line.

At the far end of the corridor, Mollie, having gathered up another load of greasy platters, was slowly making her way back along the corridor to the scullery. As she came level with it, she was surprised to see a woman exit, complete in a mob-cap which almost completely covered her face, a gown, an ap.r.o.n, and a large cloak thrown around her shoulder. The woman was obviously quite aged and hobbled along toward the washerwoman.

'Good nicht, t' ye,' called the woman in the sing-song Inverness dialect.

Mollie shrugged her shoulders. It was a big inn and lots of people came in and out on various business, none of which was any concern of hers. All she wanted to do was get her washing done, return to her small attic room, and rest. 'Good nicht, woman,' she said wearily, and carried the platters back to the already overfilled sink. As they clattered on top of the other platters, she turned round and her eyes widened in astonishment as she saw the Doctor's coat and trousers hanging on the line.

Trask, meanwhile, was walking along the upper level of Inverness gaol, gazing down at the unfortunate prisoners beneath. The soldiers were waking them up for Trask's inspection.

'That one,' he called down, pointing at one of the prisoners, a big burly Highlander who was crouched by the door.

The sentry reached forward and pulled his shoulder, but the Highlander fell back, his eyes open, obviously dead.

'Nah, no good,' said the sentry, 'he's done for.'

'Next one then, move them along,' said Trask. He took three more steps and then looked down at the next cell.

Ben, Colin and Jamie were now standing on the top step. The water had already risen almost to their waists. Trask pointed down. 'Those three, send them along.'

The sentry opened the door gingerly, sending the water swirling over two more steps, and Ben, Colin and Jamie gratefully followed him up from the steadily filling water dungeon. They dripped up the corridor, shivering as the cold night air hit their wet clothes.

'You'll be cold enough when you get aboard the brig,'

Trask's rough voice shouted. 'Here,' he said, 'put 'em with the others.' Two of the soldiers pushed them towards a group of some fifteen dejected Highland prisoners. The British Redcoats formed ranks around them, and as Trask nodded, the Sergeant in charge ordered quick march and led them out of the gaol entrance, down the hill towards the inn.

The road was rough and flinty, and Ben was relieved to see that Colin had recovered enough to walk almost unaided. As they pa.s.sed the lighted inn, heading for the cl.u.s.ter of tall masts that proclaimed the river, an old woman staggered out and collided with the group of prisoners. Ben nearly knocked her over.