The Master strolled into the playgroup, to be greeted with a flurry of eager questions.

"Is Emily's husband really dead?"

"Do they find the body this time?"

"Where's my panda?"

"Does anybody get married?"

"Is there another fight in this one?"

The Master held up his hands.

"Sit quietly and listen to the story, and you'll find out," he said. "If you keep chattering and milling about, you'll hear nothing. Oh, and Master Taylor, your stuffed panda is under the window where you dropped him. You should be more careful in future."

Delgado Master / Narrator [vo] :
The next day, Agnes Lockwood's legal advisor, Mr. Troy, called on her by appointment in the evening.

[Ace is still brewing up explosives in the best tea service. Mel, wearing black, is sobbing gently on the sofa. There is a knock at the door.]

Delgado Master / Narrator [vo] :
The new visitor may be rightly described as a grey man. He had grey hair, eyebrows, and whiskers; he wore a grey coat, waistcoat, and trousers, and grey gloves. For the rest, his appearance was eminently suggestive of wealth and respectability. He was not only a man of learning and experience in his profession, but possessed a keen eye for character, a quaint humour, and a kindly nature.

[The Roberts Master arrives, dressed in a somewhat flamboyant and colourful interpretation of a QC's silk robes.]

Roberts Master / Mr Troy [camping it up like a row of tents] :
I mean, like, what's the point of showing up in grey? Hello, people, we've been in colour since the seventies.

[He strikes a pose.]

Oh, I've had such a day in the High Court. Really, it makes you want to spit.

Ace / Agnes :
Oi! Don't you dare gob in here.

Roberts Master / Mr Troy :
What's with the other dame? She looks like her pet rabbit just got run over by a steamroller.

"Miss Waterfield," the Master said sharply. "No rabbits whatsoever were harmed in the making of this story. So there is no need for that snivelling."

Ace / Agnes :
She's had a terrible shock. Look at these letters.

Roberts Master / Mr Troy :
'Dear Emily, blah blah...'

Ace / Agnes :
Yeah, we've done that one.

Roberts Master / Mr Troy :
'Disappeared in Venice, blah blah, no-one's seen him since...'

Ace / Agnes :
And that one, too.

Roberts Master / Mr Troy :
'To console you for the loss of your husband, please find enclosed a cheque for one thousand pounds. And entry into a free champagne draw." That's a bit out of the ordinary.

Mel / Emily :
And it's obvious what's happened. My husband was murdered by Lady Montbarry and that man who calls himself her brother. He found out they were up to no good and they killed him so he wouldn't tell Lord Montbarry.

Roberts Master / Mr Troy :
Why would they send you a thousand pounds if they'd killed your husband?

Mel / Emily :
Nitpicker. I suppose you've got a better idea?

Roberts Master / Mr Troy :
Do I? [He examines his cuffs.] Well, as it happens, I do. They didn't kill him. They bribed him to keep his head down and his mouth shut. That's where the money comes from.

Mel / Emily :
How dare you! My dear Icthar would never stoop so low.

[Gemma enters.]

Gemma :
Sorry to interrupt. Henry wants to see you, my dear.

Ace / Agnes :
Henry? Oh, of course, Harry. What's he done now?

[They depart, leaving Mr Troy and Emily in the room together. There is a frigid pause.]

Roberts Master / Mr Troy :
Oh, by the way? That hair with that dress? No-ooo.

Mel / Emily [icily] :
I am much obliged to you, sir.

[They glare at each other for some minutes. Harry enters, dressed formally as a Victorian gentleman.]

Roberts Master / Mr Troy :
Does no-one here have any fashion sense except me? Anyway, if you're Agnes Lockwood I'm Coco Chanel.

Harry / Henry :
She's downstairs. I'm afraid I brought her some bad news.

Roberts Master / Mr Troy :
If it's about those stripey tights of hers, I was going to break it to her. They are so dead it's not true.

Harry / Henry :
What? No, no, it's more important than clothes.

Roberts Master / Mr Troy :
Ah, it's about me then.

Harry / Henry :
No. It's Lord Montbarry. He died of bronchitis at twenty to nine this evening.

Roberts Master / Mr Troy :
Seriously? Oh, my. I shall need a new outfit for the funeral. Last funeral I attended was some guy called Bruce, and I ended up in his pyjamas. That was so not me, my dears.

[He hurries off.]

Harry / Henry :
Agnes isn't going to take this well.

Mel / Emily :
No. I think we'd better go. I'll come back tomorrow to see how she's coping.

[They depart, and take their separate ways.]

Delgado Master / Narrator [vo] :
In the street, Henry was stopped by a passing acquaintance, a wearisome inquisitive man.

[Sarah, in her trouser suit and carrying a notebook, comes up to him.]

Sarah :
Ah, Mr. Westwick. Perhaps you could answer a few questions for the readers of the Evening Banner?

Harry / Henry :
Whatever are you doing here, old girl?

Sarah :
I told you not to call me... Anyway. Does this come as a surprise to you? Were you aware that your brother had weak lungs?

Harry / Henry :
My brother? Oh, you mean the Brigadier... Or do you? [He wrinkles his brow in honest thought.]

Sarah :
Do you think the insurance company will pay out?

Harry / Henry :
I say, old thing, if you keep asking me these questions you might give me some time to think of an answer.

Sarah :
Do you think the widow will get the money?

Harry / Henry :
Um. No comment?

Sarah :
Yes, I think she will too.

[Agnes's room. Ace / Agnes and Mel / Emily are present. Both are in different costumes, suggesting the passage of a few days.]

Delgado Master / Narrator [vo] :
A few days later...

Ace / Agnes :
Here. Got a letter from Clothesrack.

Mel / Emily :
Oh, you mean that dreadful solicitor of yours.

Ace / Agnes :
That's the one. The insurers have sent a couple of investigators to Venice before they pay out. You know, now you've got that thousand pounds, we could do a bit of investigating ourselves.

Mel / Emily :
That's a good idea. Suppose we try and find out what happened to the maid?

Delgado Master / Narrator [vo] :
Because then you'd be showing initiative. Stop it at once.

Ace / Agnes [in a grumpy monotone] :
Oh-I-am-a-poor-weak-woman. Looks like we just have to wait for Clamboy to sort everything out for us. That's if he hasn't mistaken the wardrobe for the lift again.

Delgado Master / Narrator [vo] :
And so matters rested, for the time being.

Little Sarah stamped her foot. "You're being nasty to Agnes. Why won't you let her do anything?"

"That's what life was like for girls in those times," the Master explained. "They weren't allowed to do anything on their own."

"Is that true?" Sarah asked, appealing wide-eyed to Victoria for confirmation.

"It is," Victoria said firmly. "That's why I didn't want to go back there."

"Well, if Agnes can't find things out, why isn't Henry—" Sarah stopped, as realisation dawned. "Oh. Well, can't Agnes get someone clever to help her?"

"There isn't anyone clever in this story," little Davros said. "And there ought to be Daleks. Lots of Daleks."