Part 15 (2/2)

'Having fun, I see,' the Doctor said lightly as he negotiated a path towards where Dobbs was standing by a bookcase looking along the spines. 'Found anything of interest?'

It was evidently a rhetorical question. But Dobbs responded anyway. 'Indeed, Doctor, indeed I have.' He gestured to the pile of perched books on the desk. 'There are all sorts of references to fire G.o.ds and demons in cla.s.sical mythology as well as the religions and legends of the Far East, of the Incas and Myans, and countless others.'

Dobbs sat at the desk and started to pull the books enthusiastically towards him. The Doctor leaned over, his face already a mask of concentration.

'I'll see if Betty can make us some tea,' s...o...b..ld said weakly. He left them to it.

The Rectory was too big for the two of them really. If he had been able to afford it, s...o...b..ld would have employed a maid or a housekeeper and a cook. As it was, he and Betty were lost in the large house and it took almost all of Betty's time to keep it. It was a refres.h.i.+ng change, he thought, to have guests. It meant more work for Betty, but she had not complained so he a.s.sumed that she was also grateful for the additional company.

Such a shame a tragedy about poor Gaddis, he reflected as he walked with Betty to the kitchen.

She said nothing. She had been quiet of late. Perhaps it came with getting older, s...o...b..ld thought. She was growing up, he knew. She was a woman now, not a child. Some day maybe some day soon he would lose her. He s.h.i.+ed away from the thought. He had no idea what he would do, how he would cope without her, and he had no intention of addressing the problem before he had to.

'Are you quite happy?' he asked as she put the water on to boil. 'With the Doctor and the Professor staying, I mean. It's... all right?'

'Thank you,' she said, watching the water begin to steam on the stove. 'It's lovely.' Her reply was level, toneless, automatic.

'Good,' s...o...b..ld said, not quite sure if it was. 'Because, Betty you would tell me, wouldn't you if... Well...' he shrugged. 'If, you know...' He was standing behind her, could not see her face. He reached out a hand, made to put it on her shoulder, to rea.s.sure her. He could imagine her reaching up, covering his hand with her own, turning and smiling at him and telling him that everything was fine. Really fine.

But his hand was shaking, and he lowered it to his side.

'Thank you,' she said again, her voice distant and quiet. 'It's lovely.'

The study had been restored to something approaching a state of order by the time s...o...b..ld took in the tea. He brought in another chair and sat at the desk beside Dobbs. The Doctor insisted on sitting cross*legged on the floor, the saucer balanced uncertainly on his out*turned knee.

They spoke for an hour, talking over what Dobbs's researches had brought to light. They spoke of fire demons, of Inca creation myths. They talked about Agni the Indian fire G.o.d, and of the elements of earth, air, fire and water. The Doctor spoke of volcanoes and described with impressive detail his understanding of the last hours of Pompeii.

'Imagine it,' he said as he finished, 'imagine the sky turned dark and the choking dust. Think of the scorching river of molten rock that rolled towards them, the ash blown at them, the very air turning solid around them. Imagine the terrible speed of the catastrophe.' He shook his head, his eyes blinking back moisture. 'What must they have felt? What must they have thought. Their G.o.ds had turned against them in an instant. Their world was ending. Oblivion. Armageddon.' Finally his voice sank to a throaty whisper: 'The Apocalypse.'

'That's the trouble with research,' Dobbs said into the silence that followed. 'You can get rather involved, caught up in it all.'

'But a worthwhile exercise, nonetheless,' the Doctor said. His tone was lighter now, and he leaped to his feet, cup in hand, saucer spinning away. 'Nothing concrete or specific that helps, but a good general impression of the subject.'

'So what do we do now, Doctor?' s...o...b..ld asked, retrieving the Doctor's saucer and returning it to the tray 'More research, I think. But a subject rather closer to home.' The Doctor smiled at Dobbs. 'The Professor here has been telling me of a friend he has in London who works at the British Library. A most useful contact, and someone who can, I think, furnish us with the information we need.'

'The Doctor proposes to send him a telegram.' Dobbs said, a hint of pride in his voice.

'Concerning...?' s...o...b..ld asked. He antic.i.p.ated it would be some arcane subject which was not covered by his own small collection of materials or likely to be catered for in the local libraries. So the Doctor's reply surprised him.

'Concerning Roger Nepath,' the Doctor said. 'Know thine enemy,' he added, tapping the side of his nose with his index finger and giving s...o...b..ld a huge wink. He whirled round and s.n.a.t.c.hed a paper from the table. 'Now then,' he said, thrusting the paper at s...o...b..ld, 'here is the text of the telegram together with the name of the recipient and his address. Perhaps you can organise that while the Professor and I organise a quick tour of the mine.'

'The mine?' Both Dobbs and s...o...b..ld spoke together. Both seemed equally surprised.

The Doctor, by contrast, seemed confused by their reaction. 'It is the centre of events here,' he pointed out. 'Everything that happens revolves about that mine. I think it's high time we took a look, don't you?'

'Doctor,' s...o...b..ld said as he scanned the copperplate handwriting on the paper the Doctor had given him, 'I doubt very much that either Lord Urton or Mister Nepath will give you permission to go snooping about in the mine. Especially after last night. And,' he added, 'especially if there is any foundation for your suspicions and evidence to be uncovered.'

'Which is precisely why,' the Doctor rejoined with a wide grin, 'I do not intend to ask them.' He leaned forward and tapped on the paper that s...o...b..ld held. 'You'll organise this?'

s...o...b..ld nodded, unsure of whether to comment on the Doctor's proposed course of action. 'Betty is going into Middletown later to order the groceries,' he said. 'She can send this at the same time. I have a sermon to write, so I shall be in all afternoon if there is a reply.'

'Excellent,' the Doctor clapped his hands together. 'Then let us be on our way, Professor.'

The ground was freezing again, and there was a thin crust of frost over the snow. Their feet crunched through as they walked. As they approached the mine, Dobbs noticed that the snow seemed thinner. His feet sank less far into the moorland, left less of an impression.

'Perhaps the ground is a little warmer here?' he suggested to the Doctor. He got no reply.

The Doctor was walking with his hands thrust into his jacket pockets, his head down.

'What do you expect to find at the mine, Doctor?' Dobbs asked after a few more minutes of silent walking.

'The unexpected,' the Doctor told him.

Dobbs laughed thinly, a.s.suming this was a joke. But when the Doctor looked at him, his expression was anything but humorous.

They finished their journey without another word. Only when the cl.u.s.ter of huts round the entrance to the mine was visible did the Doctor speak again. He put out his arm to stop Dobbs and turned to him. 'Let me do the talking,' he said. 'If we can, I suggest we just slip into the tunnel. But I suspect we shall have to bluff our way past several people.'

Dobbs nodded. He was more than happy to let the Doctor do the bluffing. Already he could feel the lightness of trepidation and excitement in his stomach. How on earth, he wondered briefly, had he ever got into this situation? He was dreading as well as relis.h.i.+ng the coming hours.

As they approached, Dobbs could hear the sound of the heavy machinery that had been brought in. A huge iron contraption stood between the huts and the gaping entrance to the tunnel into the mine tended by men with grimy faces wearing stained boiler suits. Steam puffed out from various joints and funnels and pipes as pistons pounded and flywheels span. The noise was incredible, and the smell of engine oil and grease hung heavy in the air. As they grew closer, Dobbs could feel the warmth from the machine. He wanted to ask the Doctor what it was doing, but he would have to shout to make himself heard.

His a.s.sumption was that they would sneak up as un.o.btrusively as possible and attempt to enter the mine un.o.bserved. He was wrong. The Doctor squared his shoulders, and marched straight towards the mine entrance in full view of the men working on the machinery outside the huts. Several of the men turned, saw them, then turned away again. It seemed that the Doctor's plan of acting as if they had every right to be there was working.

Until they were almost at the entrance. From the dark mouth of the tunnel, a line of men filed out. Their faces were as black as the tunnel, stained and dirty. Their clothes were torn and grimy. Over their shoulders they variously carried shovels, picks and other tools. The man in the lead was almost as broad as he was tall. His expression was set, and his eyes seemed almost to glitter from out of his dusty*dark face. He stopped directly in front of the Doctor and Dobbs. The other men waited behind him, shuffling and tired.

'Can I help you?' The man's voice was a low monotone, just audible above the sounds of the machine behind them and the clang of working that reached them from deep inside the mine.

'I'm sorry,' the Doctor called back, louder than was necessary, 'I can't hear you above the air pumping machinery behind us. We're just conducting a quick inspection. On Lord Urton's orders.'

He made to dodge round the big man, but the man moved with him, still blocking the Doctor's way. 'I've heard nothing,' he said.

'I'm not surprised with this racket.' The Doctor smiled good*naturedly and tried again to get past.

Again, the man blocked his way. He hefted the shovel from his shoulder, holding it upright, raised in his gloved hands, as if ready to strike at the Doctor. 'Lord Urton gives no orders here without me knowing,' he said.

The Doctor glanced at Dobbs. 'Well,' he said slowly, 'actually it was Mr Nepath. Things being what they are.'

The man's response was a hiss of anger. 'Why are you here?' he demanded.

'I told you '

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