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***

It took a couple of hours but at last the Doctor's makeshift lab was ready for business. Sam hadn't been far off the mark with her Castle Frankenstein comment: chunky metal gadgets fed pipes into glass tubes bristling with probes and antennae, which in turn were balancing, held by rusty iron clamps, above grotty-looking Bunsen burners. The incongruous mix of old and new was so typical of the Doctor. She wondered whether half of this equipment was actually necessary or just there to impress.

'Now for the star of the show,' said the Doctor, dusting off his hands on his coat.

'This cyst thing?'

'Yes. I think we'd better find Nurse Bulwell.'

***

Fitz was dragged back to the land of the wish-they-were-living by a heavy knocking at his front door. Immediately, he felt his heart freeze in his chest with terror. The men from last night. They were back.

'Mr Kreiner? This is the police. Open up, please.'

Not the men. The boys in blue. Well, he was out.

'Come on, Mr Kreiner, we know you're in there.'

How? They were bluffing. Or Sam. She'd blown the whistle on him, probably to save her own bacon. Or to save her own cabbage, as she only ate vegetables. Hey, he'd have to try that one on her when he saw her next; make them laugh and you're halfway to -

The knocking sounded again. Fitz put some clothes on and went downstairs. He'd done nothing wrong. He was a hero, for God's sake. He could handle a couple of flatfoots, of course he could.

Fitz opened the door and squinted into the sunlight at the two bobbies.

'Don't tell me,' he said, before they could open their mouths, 'my old mum's been taking the back off one-armed bandits again.'

The constables were stony-faced. 'You Fitz Kreiner?' the old one said. He looked like Dixon of Dock Green. Probably helped his standing in the nick no end.

'Yeah.' No point denying it. 'Have you come to ask me to play at your summer ball?'

'There was a murder last night.'

Fitz did his best to look astonished. 'What? Who?'

'A Mr Teddy "Chubby" Withers,' chipped in the other one, who was surely too young and spotty to be a policeman.

'Chubby?' echoed Fitz, shaking his head. 'Poor sod.'

'He was last seen at a club in Mercer Street we believe you frequent,'

added Spotty.

'I "frequent" a lot of clubs,' said Fitz, making it clear he resented the allegation.

'Did you or did you not attend Molly's on Mercer Street last night?' said Dixon.

'Er... yes,' Fitz conceded. Stupid! No more trying to be clever. Just answer their questions.

'Eyewitnesses claim he was ejected from the club just after you left with a young woman,' enthused Spotty.

Fitz gave him a withering look. 'Yeah, I left with a young woman, but I never saw what happened to Chubby. We weren't exactly looking for aménage á trois , if you know what I mean.'

Dixon nodded, gravely. 'And this young woman is with you now?'

'Er... no.' Bugger, thought Fitz. 'She left.'

'Did she, now? And when was that?'

'Look, she got a cab home. We had an argument.'

'Eyewitnesses claim the two of you had your argument with Mr Withers in Molly's,' piped up Spotty again with indecent enthusiasm.

'Chubby had a big mouth and wandering hands,' Fitz protested. 'It was nothing.' The policemen seemed unconvinced. 'Look, officers, I left Molly's, I lost my bird, I came back home and slept the sleep of the just.'

'The just run out of luck,' growled Dixon, pushing past Fitz. 'Think we'd better have a little look round, sir, don't you?'

Sam sat awkwardly on a sofa, wishing that Roley would show up and join them. He may be a bit of a prat but at least he was... normal. He'd retreated into his study by himself. As for the others, Lucy and Watson were nowhere to be seen, Fitz's mum was still in bed after her ordeal of last night (why wasn't Sam in bed after her ordeal of last night?), Nurse Bullwell was up with the Doctor taking out Austen's lump and Cynthia was cleaning up somewhere. Which left Peter Taylor and Russell Waller for company, and some