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'So if Mr Donahue were to tell you that he'd seen the devil here at this factory in the dead of night, what would your reaction be?'

Whitney looked uncomfortable, and twirled his cap faster between his fingers. 'I'm sure I don't know, sir. I believe I might think he was pulling my leg.'

'You would have no reason to believe, then, that he might be telling you the truth?'

Now Whitney looked not only uncomfortable, but confused and troubled.

'I...' he mouthed, before shaking his head and glancing around once more.

The Doctor presumed that Whitney was keeping a watch-out for overseers.

In this din he couldn't possibly be worried about eavesdroppers. Pressing home his advantage, the Doctor leaned forward as though to impart a confidence. 'What I mean to ask, Mr Whitney, is this: has anything - shall we say -unusual been happening here lately? Anything at all? I would urge you to think very, very hard.The smallest detail may be of vital importance.'

Whitney looked as though he was wishing he hadn't become involved in this conversation, after all. 'Forgive my impudence, sir,' he said,'but may I ask who you are to have the right to be asking such questions?'

'I'm the Doctor,' shouted the Doctor, as if this made everything perfectly clear. He crooked a finger, beckoning Whitney to incline his head even closer. When the man had done so, he shouted, 'I'm afraid I'm investigating Tom Donahue's death.'

Whitney jerked back as though he had been burnt, and the Doctor saw him mouth,'Tom, dead?'

The Doctor nodded sadly. 'Murdered. His body was fished from the river this morning.'

'Oh Lord,' the Doctor lip-read Whitney saying 'Poor Tom. God rest his soul.'

'So if there's any way you can help me, Mr Whitney...' the Doctor coaxed.

Whitney looked agitated for a moment, and then seemed to come to a decision. 'You might do well, sir,' he confided, 'to talk to our employer, Mr Nathaniel Seers.'

'Really?' said the Doctor, adopting a wide-eyed, ingenuous expression.'And why's that?'

Whitney had another quick look around. 'Mr Seers has been... vexed lately, sir.'

'Vexed? In what way?'

'He hasn't been himself, sir. I'd venture there's something troubling him.Troubling him bad.'

'Have you any idea what that might be?'

'No, sir.At least...'

'Go on,' the Doctor encouraged.

'Well, sir, it's a queer thing, but Mr Seers won't let none of us go down in the basement no more. He says the foundations is no longer safe. Now, I'm not saying that's a lie, sir, but it's

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just that he seems so... vigorous about it. It seems to have become something of a fixation with him.'

'You think there's something in the basement he doesn't want you to see?'

'I don't know about that, sir. All I know is it struck me as queer, the way he keeps on about it.You did say, sir, to let you know of anything out of the ordinary taking place, no matter how small.'

'Yes, I did,' said the Doctor thoughtfully. 'I wonder, Mr Whitney, could you -

where are you going?'

Whitney did not answer. A moment before, his eyes had opened wide and he had begun to back away from the Doctor. Now he turned and fled, back to the machine he should have been attending.

The Doctor swivelled on his heels to see what had alarmed the man. On the far side of the factory a black iron stairway led up to a railed catwalk.

On the catwalk, leaning over the railings like a huge black vulture, glaring down at him, was who the Doctor could only assume was Nathaniel Seers.

He was a tall, rather spindly man in his late forties, wearing a black suit and tie, and a white, wing-collared shirt. He seemed to be trying to compensate for the fact that he was going a little wispy on top by sporting heavy mutton-chop whiskers. At the moment his pale, rather delicate face was twisted with rage, his teeth clenched, his eyes stretched wide. A lesser man might have quailed at the burning intensity of those eyes, but the Doctor merely grinned, waved and bellowed,'Hello there! Nathaniel Seers, I presume?'

He saw Seers's hands tighten on