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yes, but only in that I pay for his services. He teaches the children of the poor and attends the local workhouse.’
    ‘And you pay for that?’
    ‘I have been very fortunate in life, Miss Oswald,’ Milton told her. ‘I believe that one should give back to the community what one can.’
    The chair beside Clara was suddenly pulled back and a figure slumped down untidily in it. ‘What a very enlightened philosophy,’ the Doctor said. ‘Mind if I join you? Good. I’m sorry – I didn’t catch your name?’
    ‘Milton, sir. And you are, I assume the gentleman Miss Oswald has been waiting for?’
    ‘Probably.’ He reached across the table to shake hands. ‘I’m the Doctor, Mr Milton. It’s a pleasure.’
    ‘Likewise. Though as I was explaining to Miss Oswald, a pleasure all too short as I am afraid I have business elsewhere.’
    ‘Shame,’ the Doctor said, leaning back and regarding Milton with interest. ‘What sort of business, may I ask?’
    ‘I am an industrialist, I suppose for want of a better word. We are pioneering a new process at one of my factories and I need to debrief the shift manager.’
    The Doctor nodded as if this made the most perfect sense to him. ‘Very wise. It’s good to pay attention to the details of things, I find.’
    ‘Indeed.’ Milton rose to his feet. ‘As a medical man, I see that you appreciate the importance of detail and accuracy.’
    ‘Oh, I’m not that sort of doctor.’
    ‘Oh? A doctor of divinity, perhaps?’ Milton’s lips twitched as he said it, suggesting he was being less than serious.
    ‘Perhaps,’ the Doctor said. ‘I’m a doctor of so many things I forget more than half of them.’
    ‘A man of intellect and learning, then.’
    ‘He’s certainly that,’ Clara agreed, feeling she ought to get a word in at least.
    ‘But at the moment, I’m an investigator,’ the Doctor went on, as if she hadn’t spoken.
    ‘Really? How intriguing. Investigating what, may I ask?’
    ‘Murder. Intrigue. And missing origami birds.’
    ‘Missing what?’ Clara said. This was news to her.
    It was Milton who answered: ‘Origami is the ancient Japanese art of paper-folding.’
    ‘I know,’ Clara said. ‘It wasn’t the vocabulary that surprised me.’
    ‘Do you speak fluent Japanese, Mr Milton?’ the Doctor asked. He was leaning forward across the table, looking up at the standing man with a studied intensity.
    Milton smiled. ‘Alas, not a word.’
    ‘Pity.’
    ‘And a pity too that I must leave.’ Milton nodded to Clara, and reached out to shake the Doctor’s hand. ‘It has been most stimulating. I do hope we meet again.’
    The Doctor waited until Milton had reached the exit from the tent then leapt to his feet. ‘Time we were off.’
    ‘Where to?’
    The Doctor looked at her as if she was mad. ‘To follow him, of course. Remind me how you know the philanthropic Mr Milton.’
    ‘I don’t,’ Clara said as she hurried after him. ‘I shared my table with a man who works for him. Or at least, he’s funded by him. Why?’
    ‘Because Milton is a man out of time, that’s why.’
    They reached the mouth of the tent and the Doctor scanned the surrounding Frost Fair until he spotted his quarry heading off in the direction of the Carnival of Curiosities. ‘Ah – there he goes. Come on.’
    ‘What do you mean, “a man out of time”? Is he a time traveller like us?’
    ‘Not necessarily. He might just have an over sophisticated translation morpher.’
    ‘A what?’
    ‘Makes it look and sound like he’s speaking your language so you can understand him.’
    ‘We could anyway, couldn’t we? Because of the TARDIS?’
    The Doctor paused to give Clara a withering look.‘Yes, but he doesn’t know that. And I doubt if he had it installed for our benefit.’
    They showed their tickets at the gate, and hurried through into the Carnival to see where Milton had gone. There was no sign of the man.
    ‘He must have gone further in,’ the Doctor decided.