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'May I take my lunch break now, Mrs Simms?' Fitz inquired.

***

'Kindly explain to me this incident!' said the woman Fitz had called Mrs Simms. Sam guessed she was someone high up in this place, impotent with fury at all this going on without her written consent in triplicate.

'Explanations can wait,' Sam yelled. 'We need help. Call an ambulance, and find out who was with this poor old lady.' Sam jerked a thumb behind her. 'My guess is she ran off that way.' Sam realised Mrs Simms was simply staring at her. 'Well, go on, then!' she added, widening her eyes.

'Thank you, dear,' said the old woman with a toothless smile as Mrs Simms flounced off in a huff.

'You're welcome,' said Sam, smiling back. Then she noticed Fitz looking at her, a broad grin on his face.

'You know, I've wanted to talk to her like that for weeks!' he said. 'Unreal!'

Sam hid her pleasure under brusqueness, trying not to smile. 'Try your charms on this woman, now, would you? You can impress her with your bravery in stopping slobber-jaws here.'

'What's his problem, anyway?' Fitz mused, supporting the old lady a little awkwardly. 'There you go, love. Do you want a fag?' Fitz reached with one hand for the cigarettes in his shirt pocket.

'No, she doesn't,' snapped Sam. 'Stay there.'

Fitz watched her cross over to Roley and his madhouse on the grass.

'What d'you think of her, then?' he asked the old woman.

'Modern girl,' she sniffed. Then she smiled again. "There're Woodbines in my bag, dear. Fish us one out, would you?'

***

Sam hovered uncertainly over the Doctor and the man he held, who was flailing his arms around as if trying to pluck phantoms from the air. Her shadow fell thick and dark over them, and the Doctor looked up at her, flashing her a brief smile. She saw the concern on his face.

'Crikey Moses,' said the thin man. 'Here, let me in there. I don't know who you are, Mr -'

'Doctor. What have you got in that bag, Mr -'

'Doctor! Dr Charles Roley. And you, sir?'

'I think we'll let the introductions wait till later,' said the Doctor, airily.

'Oh, do you indeed!' The chubby-faced woman had a northern accent, and her voice was as fierce as the scowl on her face.

'Indeed!' agreed the Doctor emphatically, noticing the bag. 'Now, what do you have in there?'

'I'll thank you to mind your own -'

'It's all right, Maria. I'll handle this.' So saying, Roley fought to undo the clasp on the medical bag.

Sam stared at the bizarre couple before barging between them. 'Here, let me,' she said, popping open the clasp with one deft movement.

'Quickly, quickly,' urged the Doctor. Suddenly the sick man writhed with still more desperation, his back arching. 'What's his name, tell me.'

'A moment ago you suggested we leave the introductions until later,' said Maria.

While Sam spared her a dark look, no one else was paying attention.

'His name's Austen, Oscar Austen,' said Roley as he rummaged through the bag.

'What's wrong with him?' asked Sam.

Roley looked up and gave her a gummy smile of apology. 'Old Nobodaddy's moving his bones again, it seems.'

He looked just like the dad-from-hell sort you'd never want to pick you up from a school disco, all chummy and prattish. 'Sorry?'

'I'm rather afraid he thinks he's the devil.'

'Now, whatever's given him that idea?' the Doctor asked smoothly. Sam watched him hold out a hand for Roley to put something into it.

'Paraldehyde. Come on, man, quickly.'

Austen's mouth flapped open and shut, his saliva frothing, eyes screwed up tight. "The bases of mountains shall blaze ..."' Suddenly he fixed the Doctor with a mad stare. 'Cave... the devil takes you there. Yellow sky, stink of sulphur, crystals bright in the rocks.'

Sam saw the Doctor's face cloud into concern as he put his ear to the babbling man's mouth. Austen's words were becoming harder and harder to fathom, until suddenly he started laughing as he spoke, his words losing coherency. Sam shuddered. 'Calm him