Part 17 (2/2)

The boy scowled slightly. 'It were for Miss Smith, really. But, seeing she ain't here, I suppose I could tell you. Early this morning, just after daybreak, there were a big wagon made a delivery at the factory.'

'That's hardly surprising,' Doyle commented. 'They must get supplies there all the time.'

The Doctor shook his head. 'Not that early,' he commented. 'The workers wouldn't have arrived. And it meant that the wagon must have been waiting nearby since yesterday to make a delivery at that time. It suggests they didn't want to be seen, doesn't it, Billy?'

'It do,' agreed Billy, smiling. 'And it weren't no supplies such as that factory needs.' He scuffed the dirt with his foot. 'I can't read, so I don't know what were in them, but it were barrels of some sort.'

'Excellent work, Billy,' the Doctor said approvingly. 'I doubt it was just floor polish, eh?' He took a s.h.i.+lling from his pocket and flipped it to the startled youth. 'Let me know if you hear or see anything further, will you?' Then he grinned at Doyle. 'This makes a foray into the factory more pressing, don't you think?'

Billy winked, and vanished into the woods again. Doyle sighed and shook his head. 'This is all very peculiar,' he announced. 'I still don't comprehend it all.'

'Nor do I, yet,' admitted the Doctor, springing back up into the saddle. 'But some of the answers at least must lie within the factory. Come on. And follow my lead when we get there.' He urged on his steed and Doyle fell in behind him as they cantered the rest of the way to the factory gates.

As they approached, a rat-faced man jumped to his feet in the guard hut. 'Stay where you are!' he cried. 'There's no admittance.'

The Doctor glared down at him from his horse. 'Are you out of your mind, man?' he snapped. 'Didn't your master tell you to expect us?'

Rat-face looked surly and annoyed. 'I wasn't told to expect anybody.'

'Then someone has made a grave error,' the Doctor replied haughtily. 'We are with Lord Shaftesbury's committee. We have had reports that children are employed at this site, and are empowered to investigate and report on their working condi-tions. I am certain that Mister Breckinridge was notified of our arrival. Now let us in.'

The guard scowled. 'I wasn't told about no arrivals,' he replied sullenly. 'I can't let you in.'

'By thunder!' Doyle exclaimed, getting into the spirit of the masquerade. 'This is intolerable!'

'I'll say it is,' agreed the Doctor. 'Very well, we shall return with the local magistrate and a court order in fifteen minutes.' He glared at the guard. 'And the constable with a warrant for your arrest. Impeding an official enquiry is a serious charge. What's your name?'

Rat-face went pale. 'Here,' he protested weakly, 'there's no need for that.'

'Then announce us to Mister Breckinridge,' snapped the Doctor.

'I can't,' the guard answered. Before either visitor could protest, he added: 'Mister Breckinridge isn't here at the moment.'

'Then who is in charge, man?' demanded the Doctor.

'The factory manager, Mister Kinney,' the guard replied.

'Then we'll see him,' the Doctor said. 'Go and get him.' He leaned forward in the saddle. 'Now!'

The guard bolted across the open yard. Doyle moved slightly closer.

'Do you think this bluff will work?' he asked quietly.

'All the better for Breckinridge not being around,' the Doctor a.s.sured him. 'Flunkies are much easier to hoodwink than bosses. They're terrified of making mistakes that could get them fired later. Stay in character, and ask pertinent questions about the welfare of the child workers.'

The guard came rus.h.i.+ng back, with a harried-looking man in tow. The newcomer appeared fl.u.s.tered and embarra.s.sed.

'I'm Jack Kinney,' he said, panting slightly. 'I'm afraid Mister Breckinridge said nothing about any inspection.'

'That's not my fault,' the Doctor snapped. 'You'll have to do for now, I suppose. When will the owner be back?'

'Later today, sir,' Kinney answered, wringing his hands nervously together. 'I'm not certain precisely when. If you'd care to return then '

'What?' Doyle thundered. 'And allow you the opportunity to cover up all your scandalous practices? Do you think we're feeble-minded, man?'

Kinney was practically wetting his trousers with fear. 'I a.s.sure you, there's nothing untoward happening here, and we have nothing to hide.'

'Then let us in,' the Doctor said coldly. 'We are the ones who will determine the truth of that, not you.' He dismounted and fished in his pocket. 'Here, you blithering idiot. My credentials. Don't you think to ask to see them?' He handed over a card and a bundle of papers through the gap in the gate.

Kinney took them as if they were b.o.o.by-trapped. 'Ah . . .' he muttered, peering over the wad. 'Doctor John Smith of UNIT? I thought you said '

'That I work at the moment for Lord Shaftesbury?' the Doctor snapped. 'I'm on loan as a specialist, man. Can't you see that for yourself? How can you be in charge of a factory when you can't even read plain English?'

Kinney, fl.u.s.tered, handed back the papers and card. 'Well, I expect it's all in order,' he agreed. To the guard, he said, 'Let them in, Raintree.' The guard, still scowling, unlocked the gate. The Doctor led his horse inside, followed by Doyle.

The guard then ostentatiously locked the gate behind them. 'Now, what do you gentlemen need to see first?'

'Where, precisely, are the children employed?' asked Doyle. 'I must make a thorough inspection of their work area to ensure its compliance with all relevant legislation, you know.'

'Quite, quite,' agreed Kinney, wiping his hands on his trouser legs. 'Ah, over here, this way, this way.' He led his two difficult visitors on a whirlwind tour of the factory.

Doyle, quite relis.h.i.+ng his role, really entered into the spirit of it, asking pointed questions and jotting down the replies in a small notepad. At one point he borrowed a tape measure, made several arcane determinations and scribbled down the results disapprovingly. Kinney was getting so agitated that he barely noticed that the Doctor was examining areas that were not included in the tour.

On the accounting floor, the Doctor suddenly barked, 'Where are the s.h.i.+pping logs? What chemicals do you use here?

Are any of them endangering the health of the children?' Kinney, white and trembling, pointed to the relevant accounting tomes. The Doctor scanned them and slammed them shut. 'And what's upstairs from here?' he growled.

'That's Mister Breckinridge's personal offices,' Kinney answered.

'Do any children work up there?' asked Doyle.

'None at all!' Kinney exclaimed. 'n.o.body but Mister Breckinridge works there.'

'We'd like to see it to be certain of that,' snapped the Doctor.

'That's quite impossible,' the manager replied, shaking. 'Even I don't have a key to that floor. Only Mister Breckinridge does.'

'And he's conveniently absent,' growled Doyle. He made another mark in his book. 'This does not bode well, you know.'

'I think, in that case,' the Doctor announced haughtily, 'that we've seen all we care to for the moment.' He glared at Kinney. 'But tell your employer that we shall return tomorrow morning and expect to be met by him personally and shown around.' He leaned forward and said softly, 'And if there is any sign of alterations upstairs, we shall bring down the full force of the law on his and your head. Do you understand me?'

Kinney nodded until his head looked as if it would fall off. 'Oh, definitely. There'll be absolutely no problem, I'm certain of that.'

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