Doctor Who_ Foreign Devils - Andrew Cartmel [38]
The general consensus seemed to be that now the killer was under lock and key, everything would sort itself out.
As the long day, as measured by the slow ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway, drew to a close, Zoe found herself yawning. She had been awake for what seemed an eternity. Soon her duties would be at an end, the night staff would take over and she could retire to her hard, narrow bed in the servants' quarters.
She was sitting in front of the coal fire in the servant's refectory, taking off her shoes and massaging her feet, when Elder-Main came in and handed her an envelope. 'For you,' he said unhelpfully, and hurried out. The envelope was made of a heavy creamy paper with ridges embossed on it. In the centre of the envelope, in black ink and copperplate script, was written Zoe.
Zoe hesitated, then ripped the envelope open with her finger. Inside was a brief note, written on the same heavy cream paper as the envelope, in the same handwriting. Folded in with it was what Zoe at first took to be some kind of document or certificate. It was only after a second and third inspection of the large, official-looking piece of paper that she realised that it was in fact money. A five pound note. The note read: No, please don't thank me my dear. I have not been too generous. You are no doubt worth every penny. Kindly join me in my room at midnight for an unforgettable interlude.
It was signed Thor, and there was a PS: Please bring an assortment of sandwiches, some cold meats and cheese and a small soufflé if you think you can whip up a decent one.
The five pound note burned with an agreeable fierce glow when chucked into the fire, followed shortly by the note and the envelope. Zoe slept like a log that night on the narrow slab of her maid's bed and woke up the following morning refreshed and ready to face another day. Although of course the concept of morning and day were hard to grasp for most of the other people in the house, since they were floating in the perpetual night of deep space.
Zoe bathed as well as she could in the primitive conditions on offer, dressed in her uniform, and went off to find the Doctor. She found him still busy in the west wing dining room where Carnacki's electrical contraption had begun to take shape. A large ring of glass was erected vertically on the big dinner table, like a hoop waiting for a circus animal to jump through it. It was about a metre in diameter and consisted of a thin curved tube of milky glass of slightly greater than finger thickness.
The hoop was held in place by twin bronze armatures, which rested on felt padded discs of bronze. On either side of the hoop were heavy mahogany boxes that contained some kind of batteries. Two more mahogany boxes full of bulbous glowing vacuum tubes were connected to these on either side by thick spools of silver wire.
The Doctor was standing on the table, with a pair of wire cutters in his teeth, making some final adjustments to the vacuum tubes. He glanced up as Zoe came in. Carnacki was sitting nearby, staring pensively out of the window at the dark sky and the intricate swirl of stars.
'What is it?' said Zoe, immediately sensing the mood in the room. The Doctor hopped down off the table and took the wire cutters out of his mouth. 'It's Thor Upcott.'
'What about him?' demanded Zoe, reddening as she recalled the assignation she had refused last night. But even before Carnacki rose from his chair and came over, his face grim, she knew the answer. 'He was killed last night.' Carnacki sounded exhausted. 'In the same manner as the others. No mark on the body but a red dragon tattooed on the forehead.'
'But Pemberton is locked away in the wine cellar.'
'Oh we never really suspected Pemberton of being the killer,' said
the Doctor.
'Then why did you lock him up?'
'The Doctor means we never suspected him of being the killer,' said Carnacki. 'If that makes