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until I could hear nothing else. The only way I could snap back to reality was by considering the creature as a biological entity and using my medical knowledge to determine something of its life. You may gather from this that on one level, at least, I was convinced that it was real.

'My name is K'tcar'ch,' it hissed. I noted that the voice coincided with the pulsation of a small membrane beneath its sack-like body. This I labelled as the creature's mouth, although I could see no method of ingesting food.

'As the esteemed Doctor has explained, our planets are distant from one another in space, so distant that light itself would take many centuries to travel from us to you, and yet in the folds of what we call the spacetime continuum, we are only a step away' K'tcar'ch took a step forward. I watched with fascination how its spindly legs bent. Each of the five 'joints'

was in fact composed of two hinges, one above the other, each acting in a different plane so that the limbs could move in any direction.

'We are a peaceful race. We have no weapons, no armies, no desire to fight. All we have are philosophers. All we wish to conquer is the realm of thought'

'Which planet did you say you came from?' the Doctor queried.

'Ry'leh,' K'tchar'ch said. 'It is a world of no great cosmic significance. We keep ourselves to ourselves. We do not encourage visitors.'

'The name is familiar,' the Doctor said, scowling. 'If either of my brains were working, I'd remember.'

The three Holmes brothers stared at him.

'Brains?' Mycroft said finally.

'One for everyday use and one for best: The Doctor smiled sweetly at the alien. 'Please continue.'

'Our rulers, the Great Cogitators, have known for many of your millenniums that travel between worlds was possible by using certain sounds which resonate at the basal frequency of the cosmos. These sounds can pull together areas of space which are separate, causing gateways which intrepid travellers can pass through. In that way we have met great scholars from many other races. Sherringford Holmes is one of them.'

I noted in passing that K'tcar'ch's skin was a mottled grey colour, apart from a few hard red patches which were streaked with black veins. I speculated that they might be indications of old age, injury or illness.

'How long has this been going on, Sherringford?' There was a tone of disapproval in Holmes's voice.

'Some years now,' Sherringford replied.

'And why did you not wish to tell us of this earlier?'

Sherringford shrugged.

'Would you have believed me?' he asked.

Mycroft snorted.

'I remember once or twice writing to you, asking if I could visit...'

'. . . Whenever your guilty conscience got the better of you, dear boy,'

Sherringford murmured.

'. . . And receiving a telegram saying that you had company. I never realized,' and he took a sip of his wine, 'how far your company had travelled to be with you.'

There was a short silence. A log cracked in the fire, making us all jump. All except K'tcar'ch. I became fascinated by what might be blood vessels beneath its skin, arranged not like the branches of a tree, as with humanity, but like a cobweb.

'We became aware, not so long ago,' it continued, 'that others had discovered how to open gateways between our worlds. Reports reached the Great Cogitators that small bands of humans were appearing in the wastelands of our planet. They appeared to be drawing maps. It did not take us long to realize what their intentions were.'

'Invasion,' Mycroft said. 'The first resort of fools.'

'I have been aware for some time,' Holmes revealed, 'that the criminal underclasses seemed to be severely underpopulated. Several thousand thugs and bruisers appeared to be lying low. I now suspect that they have been shipped secretly to India as part of Maupertuis's army .'

He smiled grimly.

'I wonder what Professor Moriarty makes of it all,' he added.

K'tcar'ch flexed its five limbs slightly, as a man might shift position to ease a cramp. I had been trying