'Dare I question your sense of priorities?' she asked.

'You've done so before. Hop aboard!'

If the Time Lord had been concentrating less on George Stephenson, he might have noticed a weird apparition at the stile.

As the clip-clop of the horse's hoofs began, the ragged scarecrow, exuding a pernicious aura of evil, climbed the stile to follow the dray.

3.

The Old Crone Hobbling from the bath house, the old crone beckoned to a boy hooting a m.u.f.fin along the gutter.

'Here! Run to tavern. Tell men who want bath to come right now!' He accepted the proffered coin. 'Warn them us won't be keeping water hot much longer,' she called.

Lingering to welcome the next batch of customers, she was startled by a high frequency bleeping from a dray rumbling past.

The electronic discord came from the Doctor's tracking device. Hanging on as the wheels jolted over the cobbled street of the village, the Doctor and Peri stared as the broadcasting bleeps grew more shrill.

'Doctor!' Peri m.u.f.fled her ears and the dappled horse whinnied and shied. Frantically, the Doctor tried to subdue his errant invention and the drayman to subdue his bucking horse. Both succeeded.

'Was that significant? Or just a hiccup?'

The Doctor was not sure. They had hit a nasty b.u.mp as they reached the bath house; that could have destabilised the delicate mechanism.

Something, too, had profoundly disturbed the old crone.

Suspiciously, she watched the dray clatter out of sight.

'Whoa, Daisy! Whoa!' The drayman tugged on the reins.

Coming from the tavern, Tim Ba.s.s gave a weary but friendly nod. He was accompanied by the old crone's messenger boy and two mates.

'Why are we stopping here?' The tavern had no attraction for the Doctor.

'I still feel a bit shook up. Need a Toby afore I tell them at pit about attack.'

The Doctor disembarked. 'Where will I find George Stephenson?'

'In't pit.' Nervous, taking the opportunity of using this oddly garbed but apparently benevolent individual to plead his cause, the drayman begged a favour. ''Appen tha'd put in word for me. They'll be none too pleased. 'Bout machinery.'

'Yes, yes.' Impatient to be on his way, the Doctor left the drayman to a.s.sist Peri down.

'In't mighty hurry, isn't he, Miss? Dost mean summat's wrong? More than attack on machinery?'

'It does, I'm afraid. But don't ask me what.'

Nothing seemed to be wrong at the bath house as the tired but cheery Tim Ba.s.s, a scarf jauntily wound about his forehead, paid the old crone.

'We're not last, Granma. T'others'll be along when emptied Tobys.'

Ushering the three miners inside, she looked again in the direction the dray took... then peered along the street in the opposite direction. A moment's consideration...

before following Tim Ba.s.s in.

What was she looking for? And why? The expression on her wrinkled face boded more than idle curiosity.

The answer did not come until the door slammed firmly shut. A floppy-brimmed hat was cast onto the mud. Wisps of discarded straw floated on the breeze. From the shelter of an adjacent alley came the scarecrow. Gone were the ragged labourer's jacket, tattered trousers and dirt-stained shirt. Now he wore a black velvet frock-coat with a silver encrusted collar and velvet trousers to match. His hair was carefully combed, his black beard and moustache elegantly trimmed. For this was the Master, the Doctor's implacable enemy.

Fastidiously brushing the last vestiges of chaff from his sleeve, he gazed at the bath house. A sardonic smile stretched his lips at the sound of the bolt being thrust home.

'Primitive. An insult.' The smile faded. 'But first things first. I've a death to arrange.' He strode purpose-fully off in pursuit of the Doctor.

'What've they got in there? Coal, or diamonds?' Peri's remark was justified. A guard, flintlock pistol tucked in his belt, was at the pit entrance. Straining at the leash, fangs bared, his dog snarled a challenge to all intruders.

'Machinery, Peri. More specifically, George Stephenson.

And he's'

'You told me. One of the architects of the Industrial Revolution.'

'And I didn't exaggerate. Without his genius, your precious twentieth century would be a much sorrier place.'

The pit gave the impression of being a fortress protected by strategically positioned armed sentries.

'We have to get past, Peri.'

'Easier said... That dog doesn't look as though it's been fed today!'

In typical fashion, deciding to brazen his way in, and giving his pink lapel a confident tug, the Doctor strutted forward.

'Oy! Where dost think tha's going?' The guard lengthened the leash and the dog leapt ferociously, jaws snapping.

'To see George Stephenson. Can you tell me where he'll be?'

The Doctor's bluff cut no ice with the guard. It would be jeopardising his job to disobey orders. And there could be little doubt what they were!

'No-one gets in here without a pa.s.s.'

'My dear man, a pa.s.s? I am a VIP.' Autocratic as ever.

But useless.

'If tha be here for t'meeting, tha'd have special pa.s.s.'

Meeting? The Doctor's curiosity was aroused. What meeting could the man be blathering about?

Resignedly accepting that once launched on a course of action the Doctor was unstoppable, Peri adopted the role of mediator. 'We've been travelling. The pa.s.s obviously never reached us.'

The guard remained obdurate. 'Then tha's name will be on't list.' He consulted a clipboard which the Doctor instantly commandeered. 'James Watt, Thomas Telford, Michael Faraday, Humphrey Davy,' he read aloud. 'Good heavens, Peri, d'vou recognise these names?'

Peri did. She'd learned about them in school. All of them. This was a period in England when genius seemed to bloom. 'I'm not totally illiterate! What's the noun for a collection of geniuses? A bevy?'

'An inspiration, perhaps? I don't know. But I do know the men who will be at this meeting transformed history.'

The guard had had enough of their nonsense. He s.n.a.t.c.hed the sheet. 'Is tha name on't list?'

'An oversight.'

'Oh, aye. A genius too, art tha?'

'Indeed I am.' Modesty was not one of the Doctor's virtues. 'I'm also an inventor.' He waggled the tracer under the guard's nose. The dog growled.

More afraid of the slavering fangs than of the Doctor's disapproval, Peri took over. 'I must apologise.' A winsome smile. She'd always been told she had an attractive smile.

'The Doctor's a little eccentric.'

Attractive it certainly was. The guard relented. 'Doctor, is he? I could maybe ask in't office.'

'Would you? How kind.' Another bewitching smile.

'Harry!' His deputy came from the hut. 'The gate. Best lock it!' He shortened the dog's lead. 'This way. Miss.'

'Eccentric? Me? Preposterous!' Chuntering indignantly, the Doctor followed obediently.

The remark amused Harry. Nevertheless, he, too, exercised obedience and secured the gate.

In doing so, he flirted with death.

The contretemps between the Doctor and the guard had permitted the Master to catch up. Now the locking of the gate was preventing him from entering. He toyed with the TCE his unique and deadly Tissue Compression Eliminator. A short blast and this paltry minion would be despatched to oblivion.

Luckily for Harry, the renegade Time Lord was not ready to reveal his presence. Angrily changing tack, he prowled the perimeter fence seeking an alternative way in.

A winning smile from a pet.i.te young lady might have enchanted the guard, but it had not beguiled him. He escorted Peri and the Doctor into the unoccupied office.

Furnished with a polished mahogany desk and an Windsor chair, this was manifestly the domain of an important personage. A gla.s.s-fronted bookcase housed a modest library of leather-bound volumes. Fluted oil-lamps completed the decor.

'If tha'll sit thee down, I'll see if I can find Mister Stephenson.'

'I'll come with you '

'Nay. Tha'll bide here wi' young lady.' He unhooked the leash. 'Stay!'

With the guard's departure, the ferocious hound crouched vigilantly on the threshold.

'Good dog. Good Fido.' The Doctor immediately tried to sidle past. 'Good boy, then. Let the nice Doctor through.'

His reward was a menacing growl.

'I guess he's not susceptible to your irresistible charm!'

jibed Peri.

'Occasionally - just occasionally - your smugness infuriates me!'

Reacting to his tone the dog's growl grew more intimidating.

'Keep your voice down!' said Teri, 'Time Lords may not get rabies, but humans do! And that dog looks more than ready to bite!'

'Will you stop prattling about the dog!' The Doctor's tetchiness was not just due to Peri's snugness. 'Something's going on here. I don't fully understand what.' He raised the lace curtain and rattled the window.'But I'm increasingly convinced it's got to be stopped!'

'Could be you're jumping the gun.'

'Really? That's your a.s.sessment?' He abandoned the window. 'Did you see the date at the top of that list? In less than two days, a meeting will take place here of the greatest practical talents the human race has ever produced. A coincidence?'

'Unlikely, I agree.'

'Well, hanging about in an office isn't going to provide the answer!'

Snarling, ears p.r.i.c.ked, the dog rose on its haunches.

Convinced that at any moment the aroused animal would attack, Peri retreated to the Doctor's side. 'I warned you to cool it!'

'It's not me.'

The dog hared its tangs and sprang. But not at them.

Instead it leapt from the office, yelping and howling.

'Doctor - that dog's really spooked. I wonder why?'

Sprinting between the sheds, the dog raced for the pit gate.

Once there, it threw itself at the bars in a desire to maul the black velvet-clad figure tampering with the padlock, Having failed in his quest for an alternative access, the Master had returned.