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Burton turned to see how Penniforth was getting on and laughed.

The giant cabbie was grinning, with three unconscious men at his feet. He was holding the other two upside down, a hand around an ankle of each.

"What shall I do with the rubbish, guv'nor?" he asked.

Burton recovered his slime-stained bowler. "Just drop it in the street like everyone else does around here."

He turned and caught sight of four squat figures passing the far end of the alley. They were gone in an instant, leaving him with a vague impression of floor-length scarlet cloaks with big hoods, totally enveloping the wearers. A new order of nuns, perhaps, come to aid the poor? Yet there had been something disturbing about those four shapes; something-what was it?-yes, something about their gait.

"Monty!" he snapped, and started running.

The cabbie dropped the crooks and followed. They reached the end of the passage and Burton looked to the right just in time to see a glimpse of red cloth sliding past the edge of a wall.

"Come on!"

He raced to the corner and peered down a dank alleyway no wider than the span of his arms. Far ahead, the four red cloaks were consumed by billowing fog.

Burton sped on, occasionally slipping in the slime, almost falling, with Monty on his heels.

An arched entrance opened onto yet another backstreet; almost pitch black, with just a glimmer of candlelight bleeding into the gloom from the gaps in a boarded-up window.

A flash of red passed through the light.

Along one dark passageway after another they pursued the short, cowled figures, only ever catching fleeting glimpses, never seeming to close with their quarry.

"By heck!" panted Penniforth. "They're fast! Who are they? Why are we chasin' them?"

"I don't know! There's just something odd about them! There!" Burton pointed ahead to where the four flowing shapes passed through an aura of light cast by a solitary gas lamp.

They pounded along until they reached the patch of brightness and there Burton skidded to a halt. He bent and quickly examined the mud. There were four sets of footprints in it.

"They're running barefoot on the balls of their feet and-look at this!triangular pads and four toes, and, if I'm not mistaken, these indentations indicate claws! They're the loups-garous, Monty!"

A terrified shout suddenly echoed from somewhere close.

Without another word, Burton plunged ahead. Monty followed, pulling the pistol from inside his greatcoat.

They emerged into a cobbled square with the vague mist-shrouded mouths of alleyways opening into each of its sides.

A man and a boy stood in its centre. The four robed figures were circling them with a predatory lope. Liquid snarling reached Burton's ears.

"For God's sake, 'elp us!" pleaded the man. "They're going to-"

One of the things swooped forward and leaped onto his chest, momentarily obscuring him with its red robe. Then it dropped back and stalked away, leaving him standing there, his throat missing.

A fountain of blood arced out and splashed onto the cobbles.

The boy let loose a wailing cry.

The man dropped to his knees then keeled over onto his face, blood pooling around him.

Penniforth raised his pistol and fired.

The detonation sounded terrific as it echoed from the walls.

The shot missed its target-Burton clearly saw the edge of a red brick explode as the bullet hit it-but, unexpectedly, as if set off by the noise, one of the creatures suddenly burst into flames which raged with such intensity that, within seconds, the figure was reduced to ashes before their eyes.

The remaining three creatures, in unison, sprang upon the boy. He screeched and struggled.

Penniforth fired again, hitting one of the creatures in the arm.

It howled and released its grip on the youngster, whirled, and bounded toward the big cabbie. As it did so, its hood fell back.

Burton jumped forward to intercept it and saw a diabolical face with a furrowed brow, deeply set bloodshot eyes gleaming above a wrinkled snout, a huge drooling mouth filled with