'The owners of the big manor?' Martha recalled Angela blasting the Land-Rover's horn outside the Georgian house on the way into the village.

'That's right. Jumped up nouveaux riches. The Gaskins have probably been living off it for two hundred years. They'd deny it, of course.

Especially the current inc.u.mbent Henry Gaskin.' She said the name as if it tasted sour in her mouth.

Nigel Carson led the way to the pub. Ben Seddon and Duncan Goode had showered and changed, thankfully, and were probably looking forward to a well-earned pint. Away from the dirt and claustrophobia of the tunnel, the excitement of the project was beginning to come back: they were laughing and joking again, still treating the whole business as some kind of lark, which Nigel found very irritating.

The early evening air was cool, and the sun was just about to go into hiding behind the church steeple as they walked across the village green towards the Drinking Hole. A long finger of light pointed across the gra.s.s towards the old well.

Nigel looked at the well as the sunlight made it glow. For a moment, he thought he saw someone standing in the shadows on the far side, watching him from behind one of the heavy wooden pillars. It was an old man with long, tangled grey hair and a beard. He watched the three of them with dark, hateful eyes and Nigel stopped. 'It's Old Barney, isn't it?'

'Get out of here, yer rotten lot,' said the old man. 'Charming!'

Old Barney took an uncertain step towards them.

'You're not wanted here, you lot. Clear off, go on!'

'You're shaking, Barney,' said Nigel. 'Been drinking?'

'Never you mind!' Barney raised a trembling fist and shook it. 'Just clear off, you greedy swines.'

'Ah.' Nigel smirked. 'You think we're after the treasure, do you?'

When he said the word 'treasure', he raised his hands and made little apostrophe gestures in the air.

Barney's eyes narrowed. 'I don't know what yer want here, but yer not welcome!'

Nigel glanced around him to check that he was alone with the old man and could not be overheard. Then, very quietly, he said, 'Let me tell you a secret, you stinking old fool: there is treasure here, all right. But it's not what you think it is. So don't bother yourself about it, because there's nothing here that's going to be any use to a gin-soaked old fool like you. Got that?'

'You lot don't belong here,' Barney croaked fearfully.

Nigel feigned a hurt expression. 'Don't belong here? But, Barney, neither do you. You're homeless, aren't you? A traveller! As for myself. . . well, I have a room here at the local hostelry.' He pointed at the Drinking Hole. 'Which is where I'm going now. So fancy another drink? Just a quick one? First round's on you!'

Nigel laughed at his own joke and then walked away, shaking his head. Ben and Duncan were already waiting for him by the pub.

Old Barney was staring after Nigel with a look of disgust mixed with deep concern.

'What did he want?' asked Ben.

'Nothing.'

Duncan said, 'Poor bloke. Looks like he could do with finding some treasure himself.'

'He's just some stupid old fool,' snapped Nigel. 'Ignore him.'

Old Barney was still glaring at Nigel. Slowly the old man dropped his gaze and turned away.

'Come on,' Nigel said to the others. 'Looks like I'm paying after all.'

There was a buzz of happy conversation in the pub and Martha was enjoying herself. There were no cream teas, but the bar did a nice line in sandwiches, so at least they'd been able to have a bite to eat. The only problem was the Doctor. He seemed unusually quiet, ruminating on something Martha couldn't even guess at. Part of her wanted to ask him about it, but another part of her didn't want to break up the happy atmosphere she was enjoying so much.

'So, Martha,' said Angela. 'What would your wish be? If the well actually worked?'

Martha shrugged. 'Oh, I don't know, really. . . '

'Come on, don't be shy. Out with it.'

'I can't say. It might not come true if I told you.' Martha's gaze settled on the Doctor's profile once again, and Angela nodded wisely to herself. Noticing, Martha laughed shyly and sat up straighter. 'OK.

What would yours be?'

Angela shook her head. 'Oh, you don't want to hear about the wishes of a dried-up old prune like me, dear. The only wishes that count are the wishes of the young.'

'Speak for yourself,' retorted Sadie. 'Here's my wish: to restore the well, open a tea room, and live a long and happy life.'

'That's three wishes, you cheat.'

'You know what I mean.'

Martha sighed. 'When you really start thinking about wishes, they get very complicated, don't they?'

Angela grunted. 'That's why it's best left to the young and foolish.'

'But the young only ever want fame and fortune these days,' remarked Sadie. 'All they can think of is money. There's a few in Creighton Mere I can think of.'

'She means Nigel Carson and co,' explained Angela. The barmaid had stopped by to collect some empty gla.s.ses and Angela greeted her warmly. 'Lucy! How are our resident gold-diggers?'

Lucy smiled and winked. 'That's Mr Carson and friends to you, Angela.'

Angela adopted a mock deferential att.i.tude. 'Mr Carson! How is the slimy toad, anyway? Rich beyond his wildest dreams yet?' 'Are there people here looking for the well treasure?' Martha asked, surprised.

'Nigel Carson and his university chums,' Sadie explained. 'At least, that's what we think they're up to. No one really knows. They say they're inspecting the village for a tour guide. Load of old tosh if you ask me, because they haven't once asked us about the well.'

'We prefer to think they're after the treasure,' Angela smiled. 'Makes things more interesting. Sad bunch, aren't we?'

'Sounds like fun, either way,' Martha said. Lucy's gaze rested on the Doctor for a long moment, but he was, of course, oblivious. Martha shuffled a little closer to him on the bench seat anyway, just to be sure.

'I don't think they've struck gold yet, anyway,' laughed Lucy. 'Here they come now!' She collected up the last dead gla.s.s and headed back to the bar.

Three men had entered the pub. The first, presumably Nigel Carson, was a smooth-looking guy in expensive clothes. He had dark hair swept back from a long, arrogant face and cold, grey eyes.

The other two were a strange pair. One was thin, rather bookish, with steel-rimmed gla.s.ses and with a laptop under one arm. The other was a much taller, broader man with untidy blond hair and a slightly broken nose. Martha immediately warmed to him when he looked around the pub, saw her, and smiled. He had very gentle blue eyes.

'Evening, Mr Carson!' Angela called across the pub, raising her gla.s.s. 'How's the tour guide going?'

He sneered back at her. 'We can't find anything to say about this place that won't put most people off.'

'Ouch,' Sadie said.

Nigel Carson sauntered over and looked down his nose at the four of them. 'You may be glad to know that we won't be here much longer,'

he said. There was a sardonic twist to his smile. 'I think we're very nearly done.'

'You mean you've found the treasure already?' the Doctor asked innocently.

Nigel regarded him coolly. 'And who are you?' 'I'm the Doctor and this is my friend Martha. Pleased to meet you.

How's the tunnel going?'

Angela and Sadie both spluttered and Martha struggled not to laugh. The look on Nigel's face was priceless momentary panic, followed by fear and then anger. Raw nerve touched.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Nigel replied eventually.

'Aww, c'mon. Don't be embarra.s.sed,' said the Doctor. 'How else are you going to reach the treasure? You can't go down the well it's blocked off with an iron grille, I've seen it. And it would be pretty obvious, let's face it, if you were going up and down the well-shaft right in front of everyone all the time. The whole village would know what you were up to. So, there must be a tunnel.'

'I said I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Yes, you do! The tunnel. How long have you been digging? Must be ages if there's only the three of you.' The Doctor sat back and folded his arms, smiling. 'Or rather two of you. You haven't been doing any digging, but you're friends have I can see the dirt under their fingernails.'

Instantly, both Ben Seddon and Duncan Goode looked at their fingernails. Nigel glared at them both with a hiss of annoyance. 'You idiots.'

Then he turned on his heel and headed for the bar.

'Come on,' said Ben, pulling Duncan's arm.

'OK,' Duncan hesitated and smiled at Martha. 'Catch you later?'

Martha smiled back and waved her fingers.

'He's the only decent one,' whispered Angela loudly as they watched them go. 'Nice eyes, nice b.u.m, and not as thick as he looks, either. No idea what he's doing with an oily snake like Nigel Carson.'

'Of course,' said Sadie, 'if you really want to know about the treasure, you should ask Barney Hackett.'

'Who's he?' asked the Doctor.

'The local tramp,' Angela said. 'I think you said you met him on the way into the village?'

'Ah.' The Doctor nodded. 'The one who wanted to warn us about nothing in particular.' 'Actually,' Sadie said, 'I think he's just a lonely old man, and a bit of an eccentric.'

Martha raised an eyebrow at this.

'No, really. He's harmless, just a bit grumpy.'

'And there's a hygiene issue,' Angela added with a loud sniff.

'Yes, well, be that as it may, Barney Hackett's lived around here all his life, and he probably knows everything. He does fancy himself a bit of an expert on the local legends.'

'Is that so?' said the Doctor thoughtfully. 'You know, I wouldn't mind another chat with Old Barney.'[image]

NigelandBenfoundaplacetositdownandsentDuncantothebar.

Ben opened up his laptop. 'Look,' he said, turning the computer so that Nigel could see the screen as well. There was a CG schematic of the well-shaft going deep underground, and a tunnel heading towards the base at a shallow angle. 'That's the original tunnel. We've made another five metres. By my calculations there must only be another five metres to go possibly even less, if we're lucky.'

Nigel licked his lips. 'So close. . . ' he murmured. He stared at the laptop image and cursed softly.

'What's the matter?'

Nigel frowned. 'I didn't like that Doctor. How can he know what we're doing here?'

'Guesswork,' said Ben. 'That's how most people know.'

'What do you mean?'

'They may be everyday country folk around here, Nigel, but they're not daft. They've probably got a pretty shrewd idea what we're up to.

But don't worry about it. Whoever that Doctor is, he can't know for sure.'

'He does know,' Nigel insisted darkly. 'They all know. Even the old tramp outside knew. Someone's blabbed.' This time Ben frowned. 'But no one else knows. . . Oh. I see.' He followed Nigel's sharp gaze, and saw Duncan leaning against the bar, laughing at something with Lucy. 'You don't think. . . ?'

'Duncan's let the cat out of the bag,' snarled Nigel. 'It's the only explanation.'

Ben shook his head. 'I don't believe it.'

Nigel leaned forward and lowered his voice even further. 'If push comes to shove, Ben, we may have to cut him out of the deal. I'm not carrying freeloaders.'

'But. . . But it's Duncan. He's been in on this right from the start.'

'Doesn't mean he has to be in on it right at the end.' Nigel looked deep into Ben's eyes. 'We're talking about more than just money, here, Ben.'

'What do you mean? I thought the idea was we found the treasure and split it equally.'

'The d.a.m.ned treasure doesn't matter.'

Ben scratched his head. 'I don't know what you mean. We are in this for the money, aren't we?'

'Of course we are,' Nigel agreed after a second's hesitation. 'But what does that treasure mean to you, Ben? What does it actually mean?'

Ben shrugged. 'Money, wealth. The chance to payoff my overdraft, for one thing. I don't suppose I'll know for sure until we find out what's really down there, and what it's worth.'

Nigel looked pityingly at him.

'I'll tell you what's down there.

Power.'

'That's one way of looking at it I suppose.' Ben shifted uncomfortably and glanced at the bar where his old college chum was paying for their drinks. 'But Duncan has worked hard on this, Nigel. I know he doesn't take it as seriously as you'd like, but we really wouldn't be anywhere near where we are without him.'

'I don't doubt it. But at the end of the day muscle is muscle. It can be replaced.' Nigel sat back and watched Duncan's broad back through hooded eyes. Then he seemed to reach a decision. 'Still, that won't really matter now we're close enough. We can keep Duncan on until we get the treasure and then. . . '