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The Doctor did not look pleased. 'You can just send a message back to the Brigadier and tell him that I do not report myself anywhere. Particularly not forthwith!' The Doctor slid himself back under the car.

Liz looked down at the long legs and felt like kicking one.

Instead she said, 'It's just his way of putting things, Doctor. It's his military training.'

There was no answer from under the car. Liz crouched, trying to peer under the car. 'Doctor? Are you all right?'

'I'm perfectly all right,' the Doctor called. 'This is a very tricky job, under here.'

She straightened up and waited. Then she called, 'Doctor?'

'Yes?'

'It would make a nice trip for us.'

'I dare say,' called the Doctor. 'But I'm far too busy.'

Liz thought for a moment. When she was posted to the job, the Brigadier had warned her never to seem to push the Doctor into doing anything. But this message was from the Brigadier: did the warning still apply? She couldn't work that out, so she decided to try another way. She called down to the Doctor again: 'Doctor?'

Silence.

She tried again. 'Doctor?'

His voice bellowed up from under the car. 'Are you still here?'

She said, 'Does Bessie really go?'

For a moment there was no sound. Then the Doctor slid out from under the car, but remained lying there on his back looking up.

'Did I hear correctly?'

Liz said, 'I asked if Bessie really goes. It looks so old.'

The Doctor slowly got to his feet, wiping his hands on an oily rag. 'My dear young lady, Bessie is no ordinary motor-car. Do you understand anything about cars?'

'A bit,' she said, trying not to sound very sure.

The Doctor unclipped a huge leather strap and lifted the bonnet. Beneath, the engine was gleaming, as clean as an engine in a glass case in a museum. 'There you are,' he said, 'twin overhead camshaft, two-hundred brake horse-power, electronic ignition, computerised fuel injection, six cylinders, twin carbs, and polished exhaust ports.'

'That's wonderful,' Liz said. 'But does it actually go?'

The Doctor looked at her. 'Would you care to go for a drive?'

'Really?' she said. 'I mean, yes—I'd love to.' She looked quickly at the Brigadier's message, and added, 'Provided we go to the research centre at Wenley Moor, Derbyshire. I believe the country up there is beautiful, and they've got lots of interesting caves.'

Giving in, the Doctor took the note and read it to himself.

'What sort of a research centre is it?'

'They've got a cyclotron,' Liz said, 'what some people call a proton accelerator. It bombards atoms with sub-atomic particles.'

There was a touch of sarcasm in the Doctor's voice as he said,

'Yes, I do know what a cyclotron is.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Is this all the information we have?' the Doctor asked, indicating the note. 'A royal command to report forthwith?'

'That's all the Brigadier said. He just wants us to get there as quickly as possible.'

'I see,' said the Doctor, 'then we'd better not waste any more time standing around here. Hop in.'

'But I've got to pack some clothes,' said Liz. 'And a toothbrush!'

'You might have thought of that,' said the Doctor. 'All right.

Let's meet back here in'—he glanced at his watch—'in ten minutes.'

'But Bessie,' she protested. 'You were doing something to it. Is it safe?'

'Perfectly,' the Doctor said. 'It was just a little gadget I've always wanted... makes a blue light go on on the dashboard if there's ice on the road. Perhaps I could explain it to you...'

Liz cut in quickly: 'Not now, Doctor. I'll get my things—in ten minutes.'

She hurried away to her quarters. If the Doctor wanted to explain his ice-detector, he could do it on the way to the research centre.

The Doctor stopped Bessie at the crest of a hill, got out his map and began to study it.

He said, 'You're sure this is Wenley Moor?'

'Positive.' Liz had navigated their journey all the way from UNIT headquarters in London. Now the Doc-tor seemed to prefer to take over. Liz sat back looking at the great moorland spread out before them. Some miles ahead the land rose into a ridge