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inadequacies. Despite his verbal dexterity, he was unable to reassemble the mosaic into a pattern that made sense.
    Equally flummoxed by the irrational sequence of events, Ravensworth steered the distraught women he was escorting away from the shaft; the recent incident would only add to their anguish. Even so, the massive cogged wheel’s gaunt silhouette could be glimpsed above the shed roofs. A stark reminder of the ills besetting the once tranquil hamlet.
    The baby Josh’s wife was nursing, whimpered. She cuddled him protectively, but the infant refused to be comforted.
    ‘’Tis his feeding hour.’
    ‘Can I get the drayman to give you a lift?’
    ‘Nay, m’lord. Thanks kindly.’
    ‘Aye. Shouldn’t have bothered you.’ The older woman was near to tears. ‘But us were that worried.’
    ‘I’ll instruct my foreman to make enquiries among those on the shift.’ Ravensworth signalled the guard to open the gate. ‘We’ll find them.’
    His composed assurance hid gnawing pangs of uncertainty as he contemplated the barricaded village street. In the best spirit of paternalism, he had given the people of his estates protection and leadership. Now he was failing them. The slough of despond deepened; a pall of smoke curled on the horizon. Ravensworth prayed it was just a hayrick and not the thatched homestead of a tenant farmer being razed. Normally he would have organised a fire-fighting party, but he could not afford to deplete the defences of the mine.
    ‘Lord Ravensworth!’
    The Doctor was calling from the pit shaft.
    ‘Can you arrange for that poor fellow to be brought to the surface?’
    ‘You should co-operate with me, you know,’ the Master told the Rani. ‘The Doctor’s had two run-ins with the results of your handiwork.’
    She was disconnecting Tim Bass from the computer.
    The Master persisted. ‘He won’t tolerate someone deliberately playing havoc with his favourite planet.’
    ‘Can’t you get it into your warped skull that there is nothing deliberate about it! The aggression’s an unfortunate side effect.’
    ‘Unfortunate? Fortuitous would be a more apposite epithet!’
    ‘Put it how you like. I need the chemical. The only source is the human brain.’ Careful to spill none of the small amount of liquid, she began to tip it from the crystal flagon into the phial. ‘It can have no relevance to you or your machinations.’
    ‘Ah, but then, as yet you are not apprised of my purpose in being here.’ He was registering the extreme caution with which she performed the task.
    ‘To destroy the Doctor. You’ve never had any other. It obsesses you to the exclusion of all else.’
    He was amused; did this arid, calculating chemist think his plans were that naive? ‘You underestimate me.
    Certainly I want to destroy the Doctor. To see him suffer.
    But that will be an exquisite preliminary step. I have a greater concept. A concept that will encompass the whole human race!’
    The Rani studied him like a specimen on a slide.
    ‘You’re unbalanced.’ She resealed the phial. ‘No wonder the Doctor always outwits you!’
    The Master’s euphoria vanished. In an angry sweep, he whipped the phial from her grasp.
    It had the desired effect. ‘Give that to me!’ she cried.
    Relishing the anxiety in her voice, he examined the contents. ‘Don’t get much, do you?’
    ‘There’s only a minute amount in each brain.’
    Prudence tempered her response; the fluid represented all she had achieved to date; goad him, and the volatile wretch would have no compunction about spilling the lot.
    ‘Why does extracting this make humans so aggressive?’
    She remained mute. She did not want to share anything with the megalomaniac. Most of all the secrets of her research.
    But the Master had the initiative. He began to tip the phial. ‘I’ll not ask again...’
    Her reply was prompt. ‘Because without that chemical the brain cannot rest.’
    A beatific smile. ‘Ah, now I understand. You need it for your