The Doctor leaned forward. 'Why did you say "Kronos"?'

'Because that's who it was.'

'But how did you know?' asked Ruth.

'I just knew, that's all.'

'You mean you heard a voice or something?'

'No, I just knew.'

'A race memory,' explained the Doctor. 'We all have them.'

'What is is Kronos?' asked Jo. 'Or should I say who?' Kronos?' asked Jo. 'Or should I say who?'

'Later, Jo, later.' The Doctor turned back to Stuart. 'Go on, what else?'

'Nothing else. . .till I woke up like this.' There was anguish in Stuart's voice. 'Doc, am I really an old man now? Is there anything you can do - or am I stuck like this?'

The Doctor hesitated. 'I don't know. But I promise you - we'll do everything we can.'

The phone rang in the TOMt.i.t laboratory, Sergeant Benton s.n.a.t.c.hed it up, hoping it would news of his relief. 'Hullo?'

He heard the quavering tones of the Director. 'Is that Sergeant Benton?'

'Yes.'

'This is the Director. The Brigadier wants you to meet him at once - here, back at the main house.'

'But I don't get it. Back at the house?'

'At once.'

'But that means leaving the lab unguarded.'

'Ah... well, he said to be sure to lock up. Those were his very words.'

'I don't know, Doctor Perceval,' said Benton worriedly. 'You put me in a bit of a spot.

The Brig told me to stay here, no matter what. He'll have my stripes if I don't.'

In the Director's study the Master hissed, 'What's the matter?'

The Director said, 'Hold the line a moment please, Sergeant,' and put his hand over the mouthpiece. 'I don't think he believes me.'

'I'm not surprised, I've seldom heard a more inept performance. Tell him to ring the Brigadier for confirmation.'

'But you can't -'

'Do as I tell you.'

The Director took his hand from the mouthpiece. 'Sergeant Benton? I suggest you check with the Brigadier personally.' He paused. 'Oh, you want his number?' The Director looked helplessly at the Master who pointed wearily to the other telephone on the desk. The Director swallowed. 'I think you can get him on five-three-four. Yes, that is correct. Goodbye.'

A minute later the other phone rang. To the Director's amazement the Master picked it up and spoke, 'not in his own voice but that of the Brigadier. 'Lethbridge-Stewart.

That you, Benton?'

In the lab Benton said, 'Yes sir. I've just had rather a peculiar phone call.'

'Nothing peculiar about it, my dear fellow,' said voice. 'Perfectly simple. I need you over here at the gate house. On the double.'

'Yessir,' said Benton woodenly. 'I quite understand sir. Right away.'

He put down the phone and stood considering for a moment. He went to the window and opened it wide from the bottom and left the laboratory by the main door, locking it behind him.

The Director stood staring anxiously out of his study window while the Master stood idly leafing through a sheaf of calculations.

Without looking up the Master said, 'Well?'

The Director shook his head. 'No sign of him. Do you really think he'll - Ah, just a moment. There he is!'

The tall figure of Sergeant Benton came through the arch and rounded the corner of the gate 'It worked! It really worked!'

'Of course it worked,' said the Master sharply: 'Now see if the corridor's clear.'

The Director went to the study door and peered out. 'Not a soul, Professor.'

Tucking his notebook in his pocket, the Master led the way from the room.

Sergeant Benton meanwhile was clambering across the roof of an outbuilding just beneath the laboratory. He climbed a fire escape ladder bolted to wall, swung agilely across to nearby drainpipe and climbed through the window that he had left open.

Back in the lab he closed the window and stood just to one side of it, looking out.

A few minutes later he saw the Master and the Director come out of a side door and hurry across the courtyard towards him. Drawing his service revolver, Benton ducked out of sight behind the TOMt.i.t machine and waited.

Before long he heard a key turn in the lock - naturally, the Director would have keys, he thought - and the lab door opened. He heard voices. the Director. . .

'But Professor, you haven't much time.'

Then the Master. 'Time? Soon I shall have all the time in the world - literally!'

'In an hour or so the place will be swarming with soldiers.'

'Perceval, you irritate me. Be quiet! I tell you, nothing and n.o.body can stop me now.'

Sergeant Benton couldn't help feeling that this was his cue. He rose slowly from behind his hiding place, revolver levelled. 'Put your hands in the air, both of you.' The two men obeyed. 'Now, turn round - slowly!'

The Master swung round, an expression of sheer astonishment on his face. 'Well, well, well. The resourceful Sergeant Benton.'

'You didn't really think you could fool me with a fake telephone call, did you? It's the oldest trick in the book.'

'I underestimated you, Sergeant. How did you know?'

'Simple. The Brigadier's not in the habit of calling Sergeants "my dear fellow".'

'Ah, the tribal taboos of Army etiquette,' sneered the Master. 'I find it difficult to identify with such primitive absurdities.'

Benton grinned with savage enjoyment. 'Primitive or not, mate, you're still in the soup without a ladle - aren't you?'

The Master came forward. 'You must let me explain...'

Benton raised the revolver. 'Keep back.'

The Master stopped his advance, hands raised. 'Of course, of course. You see, Sergeant, the whole point is . . .'

Suddenly his eyes widened as he looked over Benton's shoulder. 'Doctor, what a very timely arrival?

Benton's eyes only flickered for a fraction second, but it was enough.

The Master sprang forward with tigerish speed, wrenched the gun from his hand and threw against the wall with such force that he slid to the ground. The Master looked down at him. 'You were wrong, Sergeant Benton. That That is oldest trick in the book!' is oldest trick in the book!'

Turning away, the Master hurried to the TOMt.i.t apparatus and switched it on.

'What are you doing?' quavered the Director.

'I am going to bring someone here who will help me to find the power I need. Without it I am helpless.'

'I don't understand...'

'Of course you don't understand. How could you understand? Only one thing stands between me and total power over the Earth - over the Universe itself. He who I am calling here will show me how to harness that power. Now - you watch that crystal!'

The whine of the apparatus rose to a sort of triumphant howl. The crystal glowed brighter and brighter, till the whole room was filled with its blazing light.

Sergeant Benton, slowly recovering consciousness, opened his eyes and found himself staring straight into the glowing heart of the crystal.

And there, in the centre of that radiance, a shape was beginning to form . . .

7.

The High Priest

Benton's unbelieving astonishment the shape grew larger, became solid and real.

Suddenly an extraordinary figure was standing beside the crystal - a tall gaunt old man, in flowing white robes, a short red cloak and a jewelled breastplate. His long grey hair was bound with a circlet of silver and his haggard, lined face was filled with power and authority. A gold medallion hung about his neck. He was Krasis, High Priest of Atlantis.

Since the crystal in the temple had begun to glow, Krasis had kept ceaseless vigil by the altar, purifying himself by prayer and fasting.

At last the summons had come. The fire of the crystal had reached out, enveloped him, and transported him to this strange place.

The Master strode into the inner lab and spread out his hands in greeting. 'Welcome!

Welcome!'

The old man drew himself up proudly. 'I am Krasis, High Priest of the Temple of Poseidon in Atlantis.'

'Of Poseidon Poseidon? Surely Kronos is your Lord?'

'You would dare to profane with your impious tongue the great secret, the mystery no man dare speak. Who are you?'

The Master's eloquence was more than a match for that of the old priest. 'I am the Master, Lord of Time, and Ruler of Kronos.'

'You lie! No-one rules Kronos!'

'I shall - with your help,' said the Master all arrogantly. 'Together we shall become Masters of the Universe. '

Astonished as he was by these strange events, Sergeant Benton wasn't too astonished to gather his strength and choose his moment. The Master, the Director and the strange new arrival were all in the inner lab. Scrambling to his feet, Benton ran for the main door.

The Director saw him go and called, 'Professor!'

The Master swung round, but Benton was already disappearing through the door.

'Oh, let him go, he can do us no harm now.'

The Master turned to Krasis. 'Come with me!'

He led him through to the main laboratory.

Krasis gazed about him in wonder. 'Is this the abode of Lord Kronos?'

'No. But with you to a.s.sist me, I shall bring him here.'

Krasis fixed him with a reproving glare. 'I exist only to do the will of Kronos - and he is not to be commanded.'

'Ah, but surely Kronos obeyed the Priest of Poseidon as a pet dog obeys his master?' His voice hardened. 'The truth now, Krasis!'

Reluctantly Krasis said, 'So it is written.'

'Then you must have the formula - the secret how to control him.'

'It is lost,' said Krasis sadly. 'For five centuries it has been lost to Atlantis.'

'And was nothing handed down?'