He shook his head. 'I am not at liberty to tell anyone that right now. In a few days, perhaps, but not now. There is too much happening, and too many people involved.' He sighed, and then looked up sharply. 'When you pa.s.sed me earlier, Miss Smith was with you. Where is she now?'

'I don't see that that is any of your concern,' she replied imperiously. 'Let me pa.s.s.'

'She hasn't gone to the factory, has she?' he asked sharply.

Annoyed by his tone, Alice glared at him. 'I refuse to answer any more of your insufferably rude questions.'

Ross grimaced. 'I take it that means our enterprising friend is engaged in something most likely foolhardy and probably dangerous as well. Why won't any of you let well enough alone?'

'Why won't you let me alone?' cried Alice. In sudden rage she slapped at his hands. Startled, Ross allowed the reins to fall. Alice set her heels to her horse, and Ross barely had time to jump out of the way before the steed leapt past him and bore Alice away.

Ross was still staring ruefully after the vanis.h.i.+ng horse and rider when Abercrombie emerged from the woods, a wide smirk on his face. 'Got a way with women, haven't you?' he asked slyly.

'Not one of my more useful traits, sadly,' Ross replied. 'Well, I think we may take it as read that Miss Smith has dealt herself a hand in this game. A pity. I was starting to like her.'

'So what does this mean for us?'

'It means that we'll be getting into the factory a trifle earlier than I had planned on.'

'Heigh-ho,' muttered Abercrombie. 'More bleeding work for me, that's what it means.'

Sarah found it difficult restraining her temper with Kipling. Not that he was exactly misbehaving, but he was trying to get as close to impropriety as he could without getting her completely furious. Now he was getting on her nerves by complaining about the darkness.

'If we had a light,' she hissed, 'then they'd be able to see us and wouldn't come, would they?'

'I know that,' Kipling agreed. 'But I resent being forced to act as a camping ground for so many dratted insects that can see me even in the night.'

Sarah was about to give him a sharp rejoinder when the nagging thought at the back of her mind finally crystallized.

'Light,' she muttered, smacking herself on the forehead. 'That's it.'

'That's what?' asked Kipling, puzzled.

'Last night I saw lights under the sea out there in the bay,' explained Sarah. 'At the time there was something that struck me as odd about them, but I couldn't place it. Now I have. What sort of lights will burn underwater?'

'I shouldn't think any would,' Kipling objected. 'The water would put them out. Unless they were covered with globes to prevent the water reaching them.'

'That's what I thought, too,' agreed Sarah. 'But wouldn't gas lights flicker? The ones I saw were quite even and steady, which suggests that they were electrical.'

Kipling frowned. 'I've heard about those devices,' he said, 'but there's none around here, are there?'

'Breckinridge has them installed in his factory,' Sarah told him.

'Ah!' Kipling caught on. 'So if there are lights under the bay, then they are most likely a part of his system.'

'Right,' agreed Sarah. 'Yet another probable connection between our friendly philanthrope and the mystery.'

'Evidence is absolutely piling up,' agreed Kipling. 'Why don't we just tell the police?'

'Because it's all circ.u.mstantial,' Sarah pointed out. 'There's nothing that definitely ties him to anything, much less to a crime. Even if those lights are his, there's no crime in lighting up the sea bed, is there?'

'But ' Kipling started to say. Sarah suddenly clapped her hand over his mouth.

'Shus.h.!.+' she hissed, and pointed through the darkness.

There was a movement by the far wall of the graveyard, and the faintest of lights. It was sufficient to throw the strange shapes of decaying stones and figures into weird relief. Sarah s.h.i.+vered, partly from the cold. She wasn't superst.i.tious, but after travelling with the Doctor for a while, you could never a.s.sume that even a graveyard was as still and safe as it appeared to be.

As they watched, a bulky figure slipped over the wall. The newcomer was carrying a dark lantern, slitted to allow only a tiny beam of light to escape. It sufficed to show his motion, but was not enough to allow Sarah to make out any details.

Kipling grinned excitedly. 'The grave-robbers!' he mouthed silently, and she nodded. At this time of the night, it certainly wasn't anyone taking a short-cut home through the graveyard on his way home from the pub.

The intruder moved slowly around among the tombstones, clearly looking for Tolliver's grave. Sarah watched intently, waiting to see what he would do. There was little doubt in her mind that they would have a longish wait while this person unearthed the casket, but it was exciting to see that she'd guessed correctly. Now they had a really good lead. All she had to do was follow him back to his base she was certain it would be the factory and then send Kipling to fetch help. The case would be sewn up, no thanks to the Doctor for once.

There was the faintest of sounds behind her. Belatedly she remembered that the Doctor had mentioned there being two grave robbers. As she turned, she caught a quick glimpse of a huge man towering over them. His upraised hands held a jar of some kind which he threw down at their feet. As Sarah started to rise, thick fumes enveloped her.

She gasped for breath as the fumes filled her lungs. She felt an icy chill, and then it was as if she were falling down an infinitely long tunnel into nothingness.

8.

Explanations and Mutations illy was shaking with indecision as he saw the big man leaving the graveyard carrying two bodies. One of them was Bone of the three boys from the posh school. He couldn't care less about that little creep. But the other was Miss Smith, and she'd been fair and decent. For a second, as he hid behind the tree, Billy fingered his fish-gutting knife and considered the possibility of jumping out and plunging the blade into the big man's back. He knew, though, that it wouldn't be easy to make it a killing stroke in this light and with such a huge target and that the man could move fast enough that he'd not have the chance for a second stroke.

Then the rat-faced man appeared beside his companion, and Billy dropped his plan of immediate attack. Instead, he decided, the best thing to do was to follow the men and see what they did with Miss Smith. He already knew that the Doctor was staying over at the Pig and Thistle. Once he was certain of the men's destination, he could call in help.

One thing he was certain of, even though he couldn't explain the conviction, was that the Doctor was the best possible person to have on his side in the looming battle.

Alice was almost shaking after her encounter with Ross. It was mostly anger, not fear. She couldn't believe the arrogance of the man. How could he demand so much and offer so little? And then appear to be annoyed with her simply because she refused to trust him? Hadn't he proven over and over again that any such trust would be sorely misplaced?

She couldn't understand how Roger could possibly be friends with the man, or fall for his claims. True, Ross was super-ficially charming, but what lay in his depths? But she knew that Roger was no fool, so what had possessed him to trust Ross? She simply couldn't work it out.

All she could do was to ride home and wait until near midnight, and then deliver the message she'd promised to her father.

He would know what to do. He always did.

Doyle had been unable to get any rest at all. He'd returned to the Hope Hope to discover that Gray was firm about sailing the following forenoon. Uncertain whether or not he'd be finished with the mystery, Doyle had packed his few personal items and moved over to the tavern for the night. There he'd attempted to get some sleep, since it was likely to be a long evening. But rest had eluded him; excitement burned inside, and his mind was in a whirl. to discover that Gray was firm about sailing the following forenoon. Uncertain whether or not he'd be finished with the mystery, Doyle had packed his few personal items and moved over to the tavern for the night. There he'd attempted to get some sleep, since it was likely to be a long evening. But rest had eluded him; excitement burned inside, and his mind was in a whirl.

He was still unable to make out too much of the mystery. The best he could say was that at least the various puzzles seemed linked by the factory. But how they could be linked was still way beyond his imagination. Maybe he'd be better off giving up the idea of becoming a writer. If he couldn't even make out the threads of reality, how could he ever hope to invent any?

Finally, at a little after ten, he gave up all attempts at resting and elected to take a stroll outside to clear his head. It was a bright but cold night, with the ever-present wind whipping up leaves and trash in the streets. The town was quietening down, with the patrons of the Pig and Thistle having left for home earlier. The fishermen were at sea and their families abed. He seemed to be the only one on the quiet streets.

Then he heard the pattering sound of bare feet on the cobbles, and around the corner flew a scarecrow of a boy. Doyle recognized him instantly.

'Billy!' he exclaimed. 'Whatever is the matter?'

The youngster skidded to a halt, looking at him warily before his ident.i.ty penetrated. 'Oh, it's you,' he said, relieved.

'Quick, we got to warn the Doctor!'

'Warn him about what?' asked Doyle, alarmed.

'His friend she were in the graveyard. Two men've took her to the factory.'

'Good Lord!' Doyle was shocked. 'She was supposed to be recuperating at Fulbright Hall. What the d.i.c.kens was she thinking of? Still, no time to worry about that now.' He thought fast. 'Billy, are there any of your irregular friends you can rouse?'

'Aye,' the boy agreed, puzzled.

'If there's one who can ride a horse, the Doctor has one stabled here at the tavern. Send a message to Sir Alexander Cromwell and tell him what's happened. He'll have to organize the forces of the law.'

'Aye. What about the Doctor?'

'I'll rouse him myself.' Doyle gave him an encouraging smile. 'We were going to go to the factory tonight anyway. The game has just become a trifle more urgent, that's all. On your way, Billy.'

'Righto, sir.' Billy saluted in a ragged fas.h.i.+on and then ran off.

Excitement glowed within Doyle as he ran back inside the tavern and up the stairs to the Doctors room. He hammered on the door and called his friend's name. A moment later the Doctor threw open the door.

'Whatever is the matter?' he growled.

Doyle was pleased to see the man was fully dressed and pulling on his deerstalker. 'It's Miss Smith,' he gasped. 'She's been taken by two ruffians to the factory. She was in the graveyard, apparently. And you told her to stay at the Hall!'

'Sarah never does what she's told,' complained the Doctor. 'She's almost as bad as me in that respect. Right, let's go.'

He hurried past Doyle and down the stairs. The medical man whirled around and followed him.

'What was she thinking of?' complained Doyle as they tame out into the street. He fingered the revolver he carried in his pocket, a trusty Adams .450 that constantly threatened to fall to the ground as he hurried to keep up with the Doctor.

'She realized that there was a good chance of the grave-robbers striking again,' the Doctor snapped. 'She must have been waiting for them and been captured.'

'Oh.' Doyle considered this a moment. 'Didn't you think there was a chance of them striking?'

'Of course I did,' the Doctor growled. 'That's why I left them to it. I figured that if they stole the body, we'd discover it at the factory when we arrived. That way there would be clear and conspicuous grounds for the arrests of all concerned. As usual, Sarah's jumped the gun and landed us all in serious trouble.'

It was beginning to dawn on Doyle how little he'd antic.i.p.ated the Doctor's complex planning. 'It was a smart idea,' he approved.

'And now wasted,' the Doctor complained. He gestured ahead. 'There's the factory now.'

'Right.' Doyle drew his revolver. 'Do we storm the walls, break down the gate or what?'

'I'll go for the what,' the Doctor replied softly. 'We aren't the first people to arrive here tonight. Unless I'm very much mistaken, there goes a man I'm eager to have more than a few words with. Quickly, follow me, but don't shoot or make any untoward noise!'

He sprang forward, like a leopard after a gazelle. Doyle struggled to keep up with him as he dashed through the few remaining dark streets after the shadowy figures ahead of them. He and the Doctor were almost upon the two men when the leader whirled about with an exclamation. He lowered a walking stick as he saw who it was.

'Doctor!' exclaimed Colonel Ross, startled. 'I was not expecting you quite yet.'

'I didn't think you were,' the Doctor growled, coming to a halt a few feet from him and Abercrombie. The tubbier man looked shocked and worried. 'But it was a smart move to hold off using that air rifle of yours. As it is, you're a sight too free with it for my liking.'

'I had no option,' Ross protested.

'There are always options,' the Doctor snapped. 'But what I want right now are some explanations. You've played the man of mystery long enough.'

'Doctor,' exclaimed Doyle, gasping to catch his breath after their sprint, 'can't this wait until later? Miss Smith could be in grave danger inside there.'

'Nothing that a few moments now will affect,' the Doctor answered. 'And Colonel Ross's information may aid us considerably once we penetrate that lair.' He turned back to the man again. 'What have you been hiding? Aside from that scoundrel Breckinridge, who did you expect to find in there tonight?'

Ross hesitated, his face troubled. Finally he seemed to realize that he had no way out of this situation other than to provide the Doctor with what he wished to know. With a deep sigh, he admitted: 'My brother.'

A putrid stench in her nostrils shocked Sarah back to awareness. Gagging, she struggled to move her hands to cover her mouth, but was not able. As she coughed and choked, her mind started to focus once again. As she began to become aware of her surroundings, she wished she were still unconscious. 'Take it away,' she gasped, and the offensive odour was finally capped.

'Back in the land of the living, are we?' asked a cheery voice. 'At least for the time being, that is.'

Sarah struggled to free both her mind and body, but only the former worked. Her vision sharpened and she could make out only too clearly where she was. It had to be some kind of a laboratory, hewn out of base rock. Presumably deep underground, since there were signs of moisture on the wall and a constant dripping noise in the background. The air had that stale taste of caves or of old, musty books. The room was roughly twenty feet across in both directions and about ten high, but it was unfinished and none of the walls were terribly smooth. The floor, as a contrast, was almost polished to a s.h.i.+ne.

Though electric lights were scattered about the chamber at irregular intervals, the place was still dark and creepy.

That was without including the other trappings that made it even creepier.

She managed to straighten herself up, finding there was floor beneath her unsteady feet. Her hands were manacled together above her head, above a pipeline that had supported her while she was out. The circulation in her hands was barely adequate, but she doubted that an appeal for freedom would cut any ice around here.

The pipe she was chained over was one of about a dozen leading from the uncertain realms behind her into this room.

Most of them led into a series of large gla.s.s tanks, but three of them led into a huge gla.s.s cylinder that stood in splendid isolation opposite her. The lights seemed to be concentrated about this tank, which was about five feet across and stretched almost to the ceiling. A thick, bluish liquid filled the column almost to the top. Bubbles gently stirred the liquid.

Inside the gla.s.s cylinder was a mermaid.

Well, no, not exactly. It was male, for one thing, that much was clear. A young boy by the look of him, with curly black hair and haunted eyes. There were what looked like gill slits in the side of his neck which pulsed regularly, issuing some of the tiny streams of bubbles that rose within the column. The hands appeared webbed, the muscles of the shoulder abnor-mally strong.

From the waist down, any resemblance to a human being ceased. The skin there was greyer, and the legs fused to make a longer body that ended in a tail that gently thrashed from side to side, enabling the merperson to maintain a constant position in the tube.

Sarah was enthralled and sickened by the sight.

When she could drag her eyes away from the creature, she swept them quickly over the rest of the room. Stacked along one wall were open vats of chemicals. In the center of the room was a large pit. Within the pit and rising to about four feet above the hole was a large metal vat. Within it was some kind of gurgling, bubbling mess. It had the appearance of hand cream, but one that was pallid and unsettled, moving and venting constantly.