In order to take the children's minds off what might or might not be happening in the cupboard, the Doctor steadfastly read on.

Sixth Doctor / Holmes (vo) :
So, anyway, as I was saying—

Martha / Rachel :
WILL ALL YOU LOT BE QUIET?!

[Silence, in which it would be possible to hear a pin drop.]

Martha / Rachel :
I don't care if this story is one of your crazy plans or not. The longer you all bicker with each other the longer the rest of us have got to stay here. And if I have to wear this costume for one minute longer than I have to, I won't be responsible for my actions!

[She begins to tear her apron off. Rose and the Second Doctor grab her arms.]

Martha / Rachel :
Let me go! I've had it up to here with starch and dusting and sweeping floors and scrubbing...

[The other two lead her away.]

Rose :
Yeah, that's more like what we had in mind.

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
As I said, she was taken to her room, still screaming and sobbing. Meanwhile I made inquiries about Brunton.

[Brunton's room. Mollie and the Monk are looking around.]

Mollie :
His bed hasn't been slept in, sir, and he hasn't taken anything except the clothes he stood up in, not even his boots. But his slippers are missing, sir.

[A knock. Steven enters.]

Steven :
We've double-checked, sir. All the windows and doors were locked as usual this morning. I don't see how he can have got out.

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
Of course we searched the house. We ransacked every room and cellar...

[A corridor in the lower regions of the house. The seven remaining maids are searching, in a manner that could never, ever, be called systematic.]

Ace :
I dunno. Have we done this bit? They all look alike.

Zoë :
I wish you'd given me time to work out a proper search pattern. I'm sure we keep doing the same rooms again and again.

Mollie :
But there's no time! He could be trapped somewhere and dying horribly.

Gwyneth :
Good riddance to him if he is, I say.

Second Doctor :
Gwyneth!

Rose :
I don't think we'll find anything. He's gotta be in a bricked-up chimney or a priest's hole or something like that and we'll never find him.

Astrid :
You know what I think? Teleporters. He had a teleport bracelet hidden under the floor in his bedroom.

Gwyneth :
It's said that the great mediums could dematerialise their bodies and move from place to place through solid barriers.

Ace :
Give me enough Nitro-9 and I'll get you through any solid barrier you like. [She gestures at a nearby door.] Hang on, have we done this one?

Zoë :
It'll still be the boiler room, you know. Just like the last three times.

[Zoë opens the door. They all peer in, and nod. Zoë shuts the door.]

Second Doctor :
Come on, let's try the bedrooms again.

[They depart.]

[Outside the house. The Monk / Musgrave, plus all his servants, are explaining matters to the policeman from 'The Invasion', who is trying vainly to get them to talk one at a time.]

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
We examined the lawn and paths all around the house, but in vain. And then, two days later, there was a new development. For two days Rachel Howells had been so ill that a nurse had been employed to sit up with her at night.

[A maid's bedroom. Martha is lying in bed. Vicki, dressed as a nurse, is offering Martha a vile-looking concoction in a pint glass.]

Martha :
No. I don't want laudanum and I don't want cod-liver oil. Just try not to make too much noise, OK?

[She pulls the covers over her head and tries to sleep.]

At this point, River returned.

"I don't think she's hurt hurself or anything," she said. "Probably just knocked a load of stuff off the shelves."

"Didn't she tell you?" Tenth asked.

"She told me an awful lot, but most of it was just what she thought of us. I don't know where she learned half of those words. Anyway, I slapped a deadlock seal on the door, just to be safe."

Tenth gave her a surprised look. "You can do that?"

River flourished his future self's sonic screwdriver. "I did it."

[Martha's room, early morning. The window is open, the bed empty. Vicki, looking guilty, is explaining matters to the Monk / Musgrave.]

Vicki :
She was sleeping so nicely. I just closed my eyes for a second. [She yawns.] And then suddenly she wasn't there.

[Jamie bursts in.]

Jamie :
You can see her footsteps all the way across the lawn. She was heading straight for the lake.

Vicki :
Oh no, you don't mean...

Monk / Musgrave :
We must have the lake dragged at once.

[The edge of the lake. On a gravel path close to the water's edge, the Monk / Musgrave consults with Steven, Jamie and Ben.]

Ben :
We didn't come up with any stiffs, sir. Just this bag of dunnage.

[He holds up a dripping linen bag. They all look into it.]

Jamie :
It's nothing but old metal and pebbles.

Ben :
Reckon whoever threw it in the lake in the first place had the right idea, sir.

[One level of flashback ends, and we're back in Montague Street.]

First Doctor / Holmes :
Now, I need to see this paper that the butler risked his job to consult.

Monk / Musgrave :
Oh. That's a pity. I didn't bring it.

First Doctor / Holmes :
Hmmph. What a useless fellow you are.

Monk / Musgrave :
Well, why don't you come back with me, and you can read the copy in my library?

First Doctor / Holmes :
You're paying the train fare, you know.

Monk / Musgrave [sighing] :
I know.

[Hurlstone Manor, seen from outside. Musgrave and Holmes approach.]

Monk / Musgrave :
The paper's in the study.

First Doctor / Holmes :
What? Oh, go and fetch it by all means. I think I shall take a turn in your fine grounds.

[Musgrave goes inside. Holmes wanders about, occasionally poking at plants with his cane, and apparently not noticing much of anything.]

First Doctor / Holmes :
Hmm. Rosa centifolia muscosa.

[Musgrave reappears, with the paper. Holmes reads it.]

First Doctor / Holmes :
Dear me. A very curious document.

Monk / Musgrave :
The original isn't dated, but the spelling suggests the mid-seventeenth century.

First Doctor / Holmes :
Indeed, indeed, indeed. I think your butler was a very clever man, Musgrave. Pity I can't say the same about his employer.

Monk / Musgrave :
Fine words for a bumbling old coot like you.

First Doctor / Holmes :
Really, I'd have thought better of you. Your butler was using this in conjunction with some kind of map or chart, was he not? Come now, we shall go through this ritual together. "Whose was it?"

Monk / Musgrave [sulkily] :
"His who is gone."

First Doctor / Holmes :
"Who shall have it?"

Monk / Musgrave :
"He who will come."

First Doctor / Holmes :
"Where was the sun?"

Monk / Musgrave :
"Over the oak."

First Doctor / Holmes :
And you never associated "the oak" with that tree to the left of your drive? Dear me, your family must be peculiarly dimwitted. "Where was the shadow?"

Monk / Musgrave :
"Under the elm."

First Doctor / Holmes [looking around] :
Now, I don't immediately see an elm tree. Do you happen to know where there might be one?

Monk / Musgrave :
Oh, I know what's happened. We cut it down. Look, I'll show you the stump.

[They cross the lawn and look down at the remains.]

Monk / Musgrave :
Well, that's the end of that. I'll pay you in full, of course. Sorry you couldn't be more help...

First Doctor / Holmes :
Not so fast, young man. Do you happen to know how high it was?

Monk / Musgrave :
Um. Sixty-four feet, I think. Brunton asked me the other day. He said it was for a bet with the groom.

Peri / Watson (vo) :
These people bet on how high trees grow? What's the matter with snail racing, is it all over too quickly for them?

Sixth Doctor / Holmes (vo) :
Really, Peri. Isn't it obvious Brunton made up this whole 'bet' story just to find out how high the tree was? No-one but an idiot would believe it.

Peri / Watson (vo) :
Hey!

First Doctor / Holmes :
So, we see that the sun is now above the oak. I place my stick in the ground, so. My stick is three feet long, and it casts a shadow of four and a half feet. Therefore a tree of sixty-four feet—"

"Ninety-six feet," chorused the baby versions of Mel, Zoë and Adric.

First Doctor / Holmes :
Hmmph. And the direction of the shadow is the same in both cases. Now, I take this string, measure out ninety-six feet, and walk in the correct direction.

[They walk ninety-six feet.]

First Doctor / Holmes :
Aha. See this mark in the lawn. Brunton has been here before us. "How was it stepped?"

Monk / Musgrave :
"North by ten and by ten, east by five and by five..."

[They follow the directions, arriving at the entrance of the oldest part of the house.]

Monk / Musgrave :
"... West by one and by one, and so under."

[They take two paces in. Holmes starts examining the floor.]

First Doctor / Holmes :
No, this is all solid. Nothing has moved here.

[He taps at the floor, to no avail.]

Monk / Musgrave :
"And so under." Let's try the cellar.

[He pushes open a door, and they go down a spiral staircase. At the bottom, he pulls out a cigarette lighter and lights a lantern.

The cellar contains firewood, stacked round the edges. In the middle is a stone trapdoor with a ring, and attached to the ring is a very long and colourful scarf.]

Monk / Musgrave :
By Jove. That's Brunton's muffler. What's he been doing here?

First Doctor / Holmes :
You said the house had been searched. How is it that you didn't examine this room, hmm?

Monk / Musgrave :
The maids must have overlooked it. Idle, slapdash girls the lot of them.

First Doctor / Holmes :
I think that before we proceed further, the police should be present.

Izzy cursed the fact that the cupboard door was so well-fitting. It admitted not the slightest trace of light, leaving her to blunder around in pitch darkness. Every move she made seemed to knock more stuff off one shelf or another — or, in extreme cases, to bring a shower of miscellaneous items down on top of her, shelf and all. To make matters worse, just about everything that had ended up on the floor seemed to want to catch onto her, stick to her, or otherwise share the rest of its days with her.

She really wasn't looking forward to the task of sorting the cupboard out. It'd have to be done, though. By now her gun was somewhere in among the chaos she'd unwittingly created. She hadn't been able to unearth it, and the Supervisor would never allow her to leave it where the toddlers might find it. Laid-back he might usually be, but he had no time at all for clear and present dangers to the children.

Izzy renewed her search through the welter of items now on the floor.

"Give me a break," she muttered. "There must be something useful in this lot. Even a torch'd be a start."

Her hand closed around a rubber bulb. There was a muted, doleful 'parp'.

This was going to be a long afternoon...