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'Well?' said Rust.

'Well, Flood has or had the charm.'

'I figured that one out. But what's he been doing with it?'

The Doctor shook his head.

The rest of the house comprised a junky bedroom and a small bathroom.

Surprisingly, although the bathroom walls were splotched with mildew, the bathtub itself was sparklingly clean. On the bedroom dresser, a hairbrush and two pairs of pink-framed sunglasses attested to a woman's presence.

The Doctor fingered the glasses.

'Is Mrs Flood blind?'

'Don't know. There's lots of other reasons to wear dark glasses.'

'Except for the one over the bathroom sink, there are no mirrors in the house.'

Rust smiled. 'You've got a cop's eye. It is strange she wouldn't even have something in here to brush her hair in front of.'

'Unless she's a vampire,' said the Doctor thoughtfully. 'But that doesn't seem likely, does it?'

'Uh, no,' said Rust after a beat. 'Let's check on the dogs.'

The dogs were locked in two separate enclosures. In the larger, a group of scarred, enraged mongrels hurled themselves against the chain-link fence.

In the other, smaller, tamer animals, including a Pekinese, alternately cringed and ran to and fro, yapping hysterically.

'Still got the collars,' Rust said angrily. 'Some poor kids' pets. What a bastard.'

'Flood's a dognapper?' said the Doctor, puzzled.

'Naw. Just a thief. He'll sell them for medical research. It's not a business where people ask a lot of questions about where the lab animals come from.' Rust looked from one pen to the other. 'These other boys are some folks' fighting dogs. They'd be tough to take back in the car.'

Suddenly, almost eerily, all the dogs stopped barking and looked in the same direction. In a few seconds, the Doctor and Rust heard the noise of an approaching car badly in need of a tune-up. Rust glanced at the Doctor and grinned, a bit ferally. 'Sounds like Vern's back.'

The engine stopped and a car door slammed. The dogs started yelping and baying again. Rust and the Doctor waited. After a couple of minutes, a man appeared in the back door, a double-barrelled shotgun crooked in his arm.

'Hey, Vern,' said Rust. 'Long time no see.'

Flood spat. His coffee-coloured eyes rested briefly and contemptuously on the Doctor, then moved back to Rust. 'Less'n you got a warrant, you're trespassing.'

'Keeping a lot of pets now, I see,' said Rust.'I never figured you for a dog lover'

Flood came down into the yard. The muzzle of the shotgun lifted a few inches. 'Get off my property, pig. And take your fairy pal with you.'

The Doctor smiled. Rust turned with deliberate slowness to look into the pens.

'You got some little boy crying his eyes out 'cause he lost Spot.'

'Screw the little shit,' said Flood. 'And screw Spot, too.'

'Whatever floats your boat,' Rust said without looking around. Flood stepped forward.

The Doctor had to hand it to Rust - he hadn't noticed his messing with the pen locks at all. Possibly this had something to do with the way the two small, round, very black openings at the end of Flood's shotgun had been occupying his attention. In any case, he wasn't expecting it when in one swift movement, Rust stepped aside, pulled back the gate of the first pen, and shouted, 'Go get him, boys!'

A many-legged, many-toothed, snarling mass sprang at Flood. He had time for one ill-aimed shot, then he ran, with the slavering animals -a couple of them wounded and stumbling but none of them down - in enraged pursuit.

Quarry and hunters vanished around the corner of the house, and the sounds of cries and barks receded down the road.

'I'm so glad he didn't shoot us,' the Doctor said dryly.

'No chance of that.' Rust had wedged the toes of his shoes on to the lower edge of the gate and was slowly swinging on it. "Think about it. If you were in that position and only had time to get off one shot, where would you aim?'

He hopped off the gate and went to work on the lock