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Celandine smiled at Carnacki as he continued. 'I understand she is to provide entertainment by conducting a seance.'

'With the help of an intense young man known only as Carnacki,' said Celandine, 'who is himself a celebrated student of supernatural phenomena.'

'Hardly celebrated,' muttered Carnacki, his facing going bright red. 'Just getting started really.'

Celandine smiled and changed the subject. 'And who else?'

'Oh, I expect the usual complement of uninvited guests,' said Carnacki, glancing back at the oriental relic. 'You know. Rogues. Unwelcome visitors. Gate crashers.'

The Doctor found it a relatively easy matter to gain access to the Upcott's country house which, as it transpired, was called Fair Destine. The TARDIS had materialised in a distant corner of the mansion's garden, at the centre of an elaborate hedge maze, now clothed in white and emphatically closed for the winter by a chain that hung at the entrance, its bronze links also clad with snow.

The Doctor had no problem finding his way out of the maze, a trivially easy puzzle with an exit route determined by taking the left turns corresponding to an alternating sequence of primes, starting from the centre of the pattern. But he did get some snow in his shoes and was very glad of the offer of a hot water bottle as he was ushered into the library.

Getting through the front door had also proved a simple enough matter. The butler who had first greeted him had charged up as though accosting an intruder but had quickly slowed as he neared the Doctor and had a better chance to assess the newcomer's status. The Doctor's somewhat dowdy clothing didn't weigh upon the butler at all; he knew a man of substance and authority when he saw one. But he was puzzled. 'Where is your conveyance sir?' he asked.

'Oh I left it back there,' said the Doctor, gesturing vaguely, though truthfully enough, in the direction of the maze, the garden and the distant road.

'And your servants?'

'Around here somewhere I trust. They're always wandering off.'

'Well we'd best get you warm and dry, sir. Come in directly.' The butler, whose name was Elder-Main, guided the Doctor through the shadowy corridors past rooms full of gleaming dark furniture illuminated by the pale snow light from the windows. 'We'll settle you in the library with a nice drop of brandy. Now who shall I say has arrived?' 'The Doctor,' said the Doctor. 'Perhaps you could make that a champagne cognac?'

'Of course sir. I'll tell Mr Pemberton one of his medical gentlemen has turned up and I'll stir out one of the under maids to fetch a hot water bottle, to park the gentleman's feet on while his socks are drying.'

The Doctor waited in the library. He sat in front of an art nouveau fireplace full of blazing logs in the comfortable maroon depths of a sprung old velvet armchair. Every so often he would rise and select a leather bound volume from the shelves and leaf swiftly through it. When he found what he was looking for, he would settle into the armchair, scan the text for a moment or two, then set the volume aside. Finally he returned all the books to their shelves and selected an older and much larger volume. This too was bound in leather, with an odd looking bookmark folded into the centre pages and a large U embossed on the cover. The Doctor glanced at the bookmark, then discarded it and leafed swiftly through the volume, a deep frown on his face. When he finished studying it, he returned it to the shelves and stood looking thoughtfully into space for a moment. 'So,' he murmured. 'The family business, eh?' Then, as if he had come to a decision, he relaxed again. He had just settled back into the chair when he heard footsteps. The maid came in.

Or, rather, Zoe came in dressed as a maid. She was clutching a large stone hot water bottle with an ivory stopper. 'Where have you been?' she demanded.

'Really, Zoe. There's no need to scold me like that.'

'Well, I was beginning to think you'd never arrive.'