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'Do you think it was something to do with the medium and all that business, or was it just a coincidence?'

'Coincidence? No, I don't believe in coincidence,' said the Doctor. 'Celandine's performance may well have triggered something. Now let's investigate the damage.' He moved towards the revolving door. 'Why a revolving door?' said Zoe.

'I suppose it's cheaper than an airlock,' said the Doctor and shoved his way through with Zoe close behind him. The door yielded before them, its glass panels spinning with a whisper on well oiled runners. As they entered the arboretum a welcome flow of warm damp air hit them, lushly scented with the smell of blossoming flowers and green growing things. And something else.

'What's that smell?' said Zoe, wrinkling her nose.

'Ozone,' said the Doctor, looking around him. 'Result of an electrical discharge.'

The arboretum was indeed like a miniature Kew Gardens greenhouse. Built in the grand tradition of Victorian engineering it rose up, tier after tier of glass in a solid matrix of thin steel girders. Arrayed throughout the structure was every imaginable kind of tropical blossom, creeper, fern, shrub and orchid. Several full grown trees bore a lush burden of ripe fruit. Zoe could see the yellow of lemons and the polished green of limes. Just ahead of them, around a curve of the greenhouse, she could see the hanging branches of a tall tree bearing larger, less familiar fruit. 'What are those?'

'Mangoes,' said the Doctor. Then he quoted, '"Him and his pet chimpanzee, under the spreading mango tree".' He hurried ahead and Zoe followed. 'Or at least they were,' said the Doctor.

By the roots of the mango tree was what had once been the only unplanted patch of earth in the entire arboretum. Above the square segment was a rectangular headstone of white marble seamed with pink. Angular black lettering set into the marble read RODERICK UPCOTT AND HIS BELOVED PET SYDENHAM. Below this were two sets of dates; in the monkey's case, recording a pathetically brief life span. Among the lush plantings of the greenhouse, in the shade of the mango tree, it was an altogether picturesque and peaceful place for a grave. Except there was no grave. Not any more. Just a raw wound in the loam, like the crater left by a small explosion. The Doctor was examining this with fascination. 'Incredible,' he murmured, lifting one leg to climb into the hole.

'Doctor!' Zoe grabbed his jacket and pulled him back. 'It's a grave.' 'It was,' said the Doctor, taking out a pair of what looked like spectacles with thick circular black metal frames. 'There's no body in there any more. See for yourself.'

Zoe peered into the pit. It did indeed appear to be empty. The Doctor had placed the spectacles on his nose and was peering through them as they buzzed and their lenses changed colour, cycling from yellow to deep indigo. 'What are you doing?'

'Checking for the telltale signature of certain gases. Don't ask what

sort.' 'What sort?'

'The kind usually associated with the decay of a human cadaver.'

'Oh.' Zoe fell silent and watched as the Doctor peered around the arboretum with his spectacles buzzing and changing colour. 'What do they tell you?'

'Nothing,' said the Doctor. He took the spectacles off and returned them to a small sequinned case, which he stored in a pocket. 'That is, they tell me that there is no trace of any such gases.' 'And what does that mean?'

'That Roderick Upcott's body isn't lying around here anywhere.'

'Ugh, I should hope not. Do you think the lightning bolt destroyed it?'

The Doctor crouched by the hole again. 'If so, it must have been very thoroughly vaporised.' He touched the sides of the hole where the dirt had a strange sheen. 'Is it still warm?' said Zoe.

'More than that,' said the Doctor. 'It's smooth. It's been turned to glass. So extraordinary temperatures must have been achieved.' 'Not surprising if it was on the receiving end of a lightning bolt.' 'No,' agreed the