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they can transfer electrical power through earth, rock, anything.’
    ‘You must tell them to stop!’ She realised she had spoken like a schoolmistress talking about naughty children.
    ‘I think that’s more than my life is worth,’ said Dr Quinn. ‘In any case, they’re not holding up our work too much. And what we’re doing here isn’t half as important as what I’m doing getting to know these creatures.’
    ‘But Dr Lawrence is going to bring in UNIT,’ she said. ‘Were you aware of that?’
    For the first time Dr Quinn frowned. ‘No, he didn’t tell me. He should have done.’Then he smiled his usual cheery smile. ‘Still, we shall have to see how it all works out, won’t we?’
    ‘You must tell them to stop,’ she repeated.
    He looked at her squarely, appeal in his eyes. ‘I can’t, Miss Dawson. They wouldn’t understand. Remember, they think of Earth as their planet.’
    ‘But they hid themselves away for some reason,’ protested Miss Dawson. ‘The Earth belongs to Mankind!’
    ‘They don’t think Mankind is very important,’ said Dr Quinn quietly.
    ‘But that’s ridiculous!’
    For a moment Dr Quinn said nothing, studying the neat arrangement of pens and writing pad on his desk top. Then he looked up again, giving that winning little smile of his. ‘Miss Dawson, if for some reason you went to sleep in your house for twenty years, and when you woke up you found the house was inhabited by thousands of mice and rats, what would you do?’
    ‘It’s obvious,’ she said. ‘Get poison, traps – kill them, drive them away.’
    ‘Exactly,’ said Dr Quinn. ‘And that, I imagine, is what they intend to do to us.’
    ‘Then keeping this to yourself is’ – she couldn’t think of a strong enough word – ‘is criminal!’
    ‘Oh, no, I don’t think so. Because, you see, I shall kill them first, after I have found out all that I want to know.’
*
    In the weeks that followed that conversation the power losses became more and more frequent. Every time the lights flickered and the electrical output meters registered zero for a few minutes, Miss Dawson presumed that yet another creature in the caves had been de-hibernated.
    Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart appeared with some UNIT soldiers to see if someone was sabotaging the research centre. Both the Brigadier and their own security officer, that red-faced Major Barker, spent many hours together in private conference. Every type of rumour went round the research centre, even the idea that the director, Dr Lawrence, had gone insane and was doing it all himself. Throughout it all, Miss Dawson kept Dr Quinn’s extraordinary secret. Although they still met every Sunday to walk across the moors and then make lunch together, she did not even mention what he had told her. At least, not until one of their technicians, Davis, was killed while pot-holing in the caves. As soon as Miss Dawson heard of the accident she went to Dr Quinn’s office again.
    ‘I must speak to you, Dr Quinn!’
    Dr Quinn was making some complicated calculations, and gestured her to sit on the metal-back chair and wait a moment. When he had finished, he looked up to her. ‘More power losses, Miss Dawson?’
    ‘No. Someone’s been killed in the caves by one of your reptiles!’
    ‘Not one of my reptiles, Miss Dawson,’ he said, apparently not perturbed. ‘In any case, are we sure?’
    ‘One of our own people is dead!’ She was almost in tears. Davis had been a particularly popular technician in the Centre. It was still impossible to think she would never see him alive again.
    ‘Dr Lawrence has already told me about it,’ said Dr Quinn. ‘Neither Spencer nor Davis were experienced pot-holers. Some of those caves are very dangerous. Perhaps he fell.’
    ‘Then why is Spencer blabbering like a demented idiot?’
    Dr Quinn shrugged. ‘It’s to be expected. If two of you are together and one gets killed in an accident – it’s bound to have its effect.’
    Miss Dawson