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After Carnacki had taken his photographs and completed all kinds of measurements, which seemed to Zoe to take forever, with the Doctor watching and nodding and occasionally interfering with things, the first faint light of dawn was showing through the windows. Carnacki put the notebook in his pocket. He seemed only a little wearied by his night of exertion. And the Doctor of course was disgustingly chipper. 'Now if you don't mind,' said Carnacki. 'I want to go and see if Celandine has recovered consciousness.' 'Of course,' said the Doctor. 'What is it?'

This last was addressed to Elder-Main, the butler, who was standing in the open door of the billiard room. The man had a shocked, tagged look on his face which amply justified the urgency of the Doctor's question.

Elder-Main looked down at the body on the floor for a moment, then hesitantly up at them. 'It's Mr Pemberton sir. He asks if you can come immediately.'

He cleared his throat. 'There's been another one.'

Chapter Seven

The Doctor blew on the hot dark tea in his cup. He said, '"Another one" transpires to be Pemberton Upcott's elderly Aunt Arabelle, who was found in her bed this morning by the servants.'

'A bit early wasn't it? Even for servants,' said Zoe.

'The lady was in the habit of rising early and she could by no means

dress herself.'

'Why, was she paralysed?'

'Only with wealth,' said the Doctor. He was sipping tea with Zoe in the breakfast room, a pleasant red tiled alcove adjacent to the kitchen, warmed by a large pale yellow enamelled wood burning oven. Zoe had been furious to note that over the door there was a servant summoning device. It consisted of a bell with a pull rope and a black iron arrow which rode along a short length of black iron rail to stop at any one of a sequence of hand written cards, indicating the title of the unfortunate underling.

The Doctor was sipping tea while Zoe poured it. 'This really is ridiculous,' she said. The Doctor looked up from his cup and peered at her judiciously. 'The murders?'

'No. This,' She indicated the starched white apron that she wore fastened so tightly around her shapeless black dress. 'This whole servant business. Why can't I just get out of these ridiculous clothes and

this ridiculous role and . . . ' 'And?'

'And sit drinking tea with you for a start instead of having to serve it.'

'Oh dear, of course. Sit down,' said the Doctor, fussing with dusting off a chair with his handkerchief. 'Let me get you a cup.'

'No,' snarled Zoe. 'That's not what I mean. I don't want to sneak a cup of tea with you and have to leap to my feet if someone comes in and start behaving like a servant. Why can't we just upgrade my status? Tell people that I'm your friend so they can stop treating me like some lower form of life.' She hooked a finger in her collar and tugged at the starched material. 'And I can get out of this potato sack.' The Doctor got up and went to Zoe. He spoke to her quietly and intimately. 'I appreciate the discomfort you're tolerating, Zoe. Both physical and social. But if we can continue with your charade just a little longer it may enable us to learn something about the events that are taking place in this house. Not only the murders but Jamie's disappearance.'

'How could I possibly achieve that by pretending to be a dreadful little skivvy?'

'Because people will allow you to see and hear things as a maid that they would never permit if you were a social equal.'

'I suppose,' said Zoe. 'I suppose you have a point.'

The Doctor smiled. 'So you will remain a maid a little longer?'

'Unless I get murdered,' said Zoe darkly.

'Don't even joke about that,' said the Doctor.

'But it might happen, mightn't it?'

The Doctor peered out of the narrow window on the whitewashed wall adjacent to the pantry door. Outside, a pale winter sun could be seen edging up over the snow covered garden. 'Whatever is responsible for these killings, I have a feeling it won't operate by daylight.'