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***

The Doctor and Litefoot were enjoying a breakfast of kedgeree, grilled sheep's kidneys, toast, marmalade and tea when a knock sounded at the front door. The two of them heard Mrs Hudson bustle along the hallway to answer it. A few moments later she tapped on the dining room door and entered, a dough-faced woman with black button eyes and an expansive bosom.

'There's a gentleman from the police to see you, sir.'

'Thank you, Mrs Hudson,' the Doctor said before the professor could answer. He jumped up and hurried out into the hallway. Litefoot dabbed his lips with a napkin, then followed at a more sedate pace.

Another clone, the Doctor thought, at the sight of the stout, bewhiskered constable standing on the doorstep.

'Good morning, Constable,' he said heartily. 'You have news, I take it?'

'Yes, sir.That is... you are the Doctor, sir?'

'Indeed I am,' the Doctor confirmed, 'and this is my friend, Professor George Litefoot.'

'Yes, sir,' the policeman said politely, 'the professor and I are acquainted.'

'What can we do for you, Constable?' Litefoot asked.

'This is a matter that concerns both of you, sirs. It seems a body was fished out of the Thames this morning, and we have reason to believe it may be that of the man you was inquiring about last night, Doctor. We'd like you to carry out a postmortem, Professor, if you would?'

'He'd be delighted,' the Doctor said before Litefoot could reply.'He'll be with you directly. He'll just get his coat and hat.'

'Just what I was about to say,' said Litefoot ruefully. As he shrugged himself into his heavy overcoat, he was struck by a thought.'I say, shouldn't we rouse Miss Samantha?'

The Doctor glanced a little guiltily up the stairs, as if expecting to see his latest protegee standing at the top, scowling at him.'Better let her sleep,' he said.'No doubt she'll hate me for saying so, but there are some sights she needn't see, if it can be avoided.'

'Quite so,' said Litefoot approvingly. 'Well, Doctor, shall we go?'

The Doctor nodded vaguely and turned to Litefoot's housekeeper, who was hovering behind them, waiting to see them out. 'Mrs Hudson, will you explain to Sam that the professor and I had to leave on a matter of the utmost urgency, and that there was really no time to wake her? Tell her I'll be back as soon as I can.'

'Don't you worry, sir, I'll look after her,' Mrs Hudson promised.

The Doctor thanked her and hurried down the steps after the top-hatted professor, whose breath was vaporous in the crisp morning air.

'Déjà vu , eh, Professor?' the Doctor said, catching him up.

Litefoot raised his eyebrows. 'Whatever do you mean, Doctor?'

'The postmortem. Didn't you meet the Doctor - the other Doctor - in similar circumstances?'

Litefoot chuckled. 'Yes, I believe I did.'

'Time has a marvellous way of revisiting itself, don't you find?'

Litefoot looked as though he didn't know quite what the Doctor was talking about, but was too polite to say so. 'I suppose so,' he said.

The two of them climbed into the waiting cab as the police constable who had summoned it paid the driver. The driver cracked his whip and the cab rattled away up the road.

It was not too long before the clean, tree-lined streets, long gravel drives, large gardens and elegant villas began to peter out, giving way to streets stinking of ordure and disease, crammed with narrow, scabrous buildings.

Barefoot, hollow-eyed children congregated in doorways watched them pass adults, equally shabby, lowered their gaunt faces as though ashamed of their reduced circumstances.

'Poor wretches,' Litefoot said, lighting his pipe as much to combat the stink as anything. 'Almost every day I travel through districts such as this, and yet my despair at the poverty I continually witness around me never lessens.'

'One should never get used to the suffering of others, Professor,' the Doctor said quietly.

'Oh, quite agree. One does what one can, of course, but it never seems enough.'

The cab stopped outside a long, low building