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They made their way out of the cell area, the Doctor leading the way. They spent the next ten minutes as the Doctor had spent most of the past half-hour - sneaking around, avoiding Zygons.

'So what are we doing?' asked Sam eventually. 'Looking for the canteen?'

'Either that or a way out. Or Litefoot,' the Doctor added.

'Oh yeah, the professor. Where is he?'

'Escaped.'

'Escaped?' Her tone was a little indignant, as if she believed that should have been her prerogative.'How did he manage that?'

'Your guess is as good as mine. I haven't been around.'

'So what have you been doing while I've been having my little snooze?

Scuba-diving from the looks of it.'

'That and other things,' said the Doctor, smiling. 'Annoying people mostly.'

'It's reassuring to know that nothing changes,' said Sam.

They came to a small chamber with a hole in the ceiling.

'Aha,' said the Doctor. 'The emergency exit.' He unzipped his hip pack and produced a small transparent cube, which he handed to Sam.'Here, put this on.'

Sam looked at it, unimpressed. 'What am I supposed to do with it? Wear it as a brooch?'

He smiled and produced another cube, which he held by the very tip of one of its corners between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. He made a sudden flicking motion with his wrist as though cracking a whip, and instantly the cube unravelled, expanding its mass to a seemingly impossible degree as it did so.

Within seconds, dangling from the Doctor's hand was what appeared to be a large sheet of transparent jelly-like material.

'What is it?' asked Sam, somewhat awed by the way the material seemed to shimmer and become iridescent, almost as if it was alive.

'It's a daxamoil suit,' said the Doctor. 'I bought this one and the one that you're holding from a Verulonian dealer on Peluvia. Once you put it on, it moulds itself instantly to your shape. It's self-sealing, flexible, waterproof and fireproof, and it automatically keeps the body of its wearer at the optimum temperature required for their particular species.'

'Sounds great,' said Sam. 'You should have got a job lot. We could have flogged them down Camden Market. Er... why do we have to put them on?'

'Because we're going outside,' said the Doctor.

'Outside meaning?'

'Well, we may get lucky, and this chute may lead straight up on to dry land.

But if it doesn't we'll find ourselves spat out into the Thames, in which case we'll have to swim for it.'

'I was afraid you were going to say that.' She sighed.'OK, so if that thing moulds itself to your body and then seals itself, how do we breathe?'

'Ah,' said the Doctor,'now that's the clever bit. To quote the chap who sold me the suit,"Whenceforth ever your respiratory doings is, daxamoil will expungify the requisital elementals from its own self and henceforth make a donatory prize to your respiratory systematic. Comprendino?"'

'Just about,' said Sam.'So what's the catch?'

'There isn't one. Not in our case anyway. Now, if you were to wear the suit for three or four hours, then there would be a problem, because the more chemical elements that the suit donates to the wearer to allow him or her to breathe, the more brittle and opaque it becomes. In the end, the suit would simply deteriorate, flake by flake, like dry skin.'

Sam nodded slowly. 'OK, so what do I do?'

'Just shake the suit out as I did, and then drape it around yourself like a blanket.The daxamoil will do the rest.'

Sam did as instructed, trying not to appear hesitant. She expected the daxamoil to feel cold and slippery as she draped it around her shoulders, but in fact it was pleasantly warm and smooth as silk. She braced herself as the strange substance flowed over her, not unlike an all-enveloping version of the Zygon cowl that had covered her head and face.Taking her cue from the Doctor, who appeared perfectly calm, she tried not to panic as the stuff adhered to her face, pressing against