Nepath stared into Devlin's eyes as he spoke. 'We shall need more material, of course. Much more.' If he looked closely he could see it inside the man. 'But we should dig that out in the process of our main objective.' Could see the fire that burned inside him.
Chapter Eleven.
Night Callers Though it was bitterly cold, it was a bright crisp day. Stobbold spent the daylight hours visiting. He never seemed to have enough time to get to everyone who needed his attention. He took sick communion to Mrs Olson, and he inquired after Jimmy Moorgate's gout; he called on Michael Grisham to ask why he had missed church that week and found him suffering from a fever. He listened attentively and sympathetically while Rosie Devlin poured out her worries about her husband, about how he had become introverted and quiet since the mine reopened. Ruffling his hand through little Annie's hair, he told Rosie not to worry. Harry would work things out, he was a good man.
It was dark by the time Stobbold returned to the Rectory. Betty was already preparing the dinner. He could hear the Doctor and Professor Dobbs talking in the drawing room as he took off his coat. At once he was reminded of the disagreement of the previous day, and again he felt annoyed by the Doctor's attitude. He tried to push his feelings to the back of his mind as he went up to remove his cassock.
By the time Stobbold joined them, dinner was almost ready. 'My apologies that I was not here when you returned from your expedition,' he told them, trying to keep his tone neutral.
'Your hospitality is more than generous as it is,' Dobbs replied. 'Please think nothing of it.' He glanced at the Doctor, as if for approval before adding. 'We have had a most remarkable morning. I must confess. Regardless of your misgivings, I believe you would have been fascinated by what has occurred.'
Despite his earlier feelings, Stobbold found himself intrigued, and before long he was sitting listening to Dobbs's account of the events of the morning.
'I still maintain that it was not polite or proper for you to eavesdrop on this demonstration,' Stobbold said when Dobbs had finished. 'But I do have to admit that this is indeed a remarkable story.' He turned to the Doctor. 'This material, these strange Eastern ceremonies... I have come across nothing of the kind before. Not in fact, or in the literature I have read on the subject.'
'Comparative religion?' the Doctor asked. 'I recall you said you had devoted time to the subject.'
'Indeed,' Stobbold admitted. 'In the study I have various volumes on the subject. Eastern mythology and beliefs in particular interest me. There are distinct parallels with our own religion, as well as many differences. But the underlying metaphors and teachings are I believe reconcilable.'
'We must talk more on the subject,' the Doctor said, taking something from his pocket. 'But for the moment, this intrigues me rather more.'
It was a dull, dark ball which looked to Stobbold like a children's marble, only larger As he watched, the Doctor squeezed the ball in his palm. When he opened his fingers the material was squashed into an amorphous mass. Like clay.
'It gets warm in my pocket,' he explained. 'Warm enough to reform into my rather dreary and crude attempt at sculpture.' He tossed the material across to Stobbold.
It was soft, more malleable than Stobbold had expected. He squeezed it flat and rolled it between his palms. There seemed to be no discernible smell, and it left no residue on his hands. He was still examining the substance when Betty came in to tell them that dinner was ready.
She watched her father work the material as she spoke. 'I've already eaten,' Betty said. 'I was hungry. I hope you will excuse me if I don't join you for dinner, but I am rather tired.'
'Of course, my dear.'
'What is that?' She reached out tentatively and Stobbold handed her the lump of dark material. She held it for a moment between her forefinger and thumb before giving it back to the Doctor. 'Please excuse me,' she said again.
As he washed his hands at the small basin in his room, the Doctor could feel the warmth in his jacket. At first he thought it was the glossy cube that had led him here. Was it time, perhaps to move on?
But what he drew from his pocket was the dull material that Nepath had given him. It had once again refashioned itself into small sphere. It was warm, almost hot. He held it up, examining the material with interest. Was that the hint of a crack, a hairline mark anywhere?
'Are you coming, Doctor?' Dobbs called from outside his door.
'I'll be right with you.' He considered for a moment, then he dropped the ball into the basin, watching it sink below the soapy surface of the cold water. 'If you're a sphere when you're warm,' he murmured, 'what are you when you're cold?'
He did not wait to see. He closed and locked the door behind him on his way to dinner.
It was over the port after the meal that Stobbold raised the issue of predestination. He had been mulling over the subject throughout the meal as Dobbs again described the events he and the Doctor had witnessed that morning.
They were back in the drawing room, each of them in his accustomed armchair. Stobbold felt warm and comfortable. enjoying the company. 'We spoke before, Doctor, of what you called a clockwork universe, I recall.'
The Doctor nodded. 'We did indeed. We discussed the idea that it is possible with Newton's laws to predict the behaviour and path of every particle in the universe and how it reacts with and to every other particle,' he explained to Dobbs.
'I see,' the Professor replied. 'An intriguing notion. You subscribe, I assume then, to the prevalent theory that everything is indeed "particulate" in structure and composition?'
'We had some debate about the soul of Man,' Stobbold told him.
'Everything physical, then.'
'It occurs to me,' Stobbold went on, 'that there is something of that same argument in the singular behaviour of the material you have described to me. It is as if the atoms within it know their appointed paths and places and return to them, if that is possible.'
'All atoms are in perpetual motion,' Dobbs agreed. 'That is well known. There is only the atoms and the spaces between them. Relatively large spaces in the case of a gas, less space in a liquid, hardly any in a closely*knit solid. But still motion.'
'Leave an ingot of gold on top of another soft metal like lead, and you will find that the two begin to merge,' the Doctor added. 'Over a period years, you will begin to find grains of the one embedded within the other.'
'I didn't know that,' Stobbold said. 'So does this mean that we admit a possible solution?'
'Doctor?' Dobbs prompted.
The Doctor was silent for several moments. 'I am loathe to ascribe so simple an explanation to so strange a phenomenon,' he said at last. 'If it were that straightforward, why has such a thing not be observed or demonstrated before?' He stood up and went over to the fire, turning so that he faced back to his friends. 'I am inclined to believe, partly because of my reluctance to give up free will, that there are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamed of in Newton's philosophy.'
'What a piece of work is a man?' Stobbold asked, amused.
The Doctor's reply was as serious as it was passionate. 'Exactly,' he declaimed, arm raised. 'Exactly so. There is something in this more than physical, more than explicable. The ancient Greeks had atomic theory of a sort. But they found it too boring, I'm sure that was why they never pursued the idea seriously. No, they saw more value more intellectual if not scientific value in the Platonic notion that everything is a flawed copy of the actual, perfect object. Or in Aristotle's theory.'
'Forgive me,' Dobbs interrupted. 'I am no philosopher.'
'Aristotle,' Stobbold said, 'inclined to the belief that the universe is constructed of natural elements. Is that not so, Doctor? I assume that is your point.'
The Doctor was nodding enthusiastically. 'For two thousand years we have preferred Aristotle's romantic suggestion to Democritus's more accurate diagnosis of the nature of the world. And Aristotle said that everything devolved from, was created in some part from the four elements.' He counted them off on his fingers. 'Earth, air, water.' He paused, glanced at the dancing flames behind him. 'And fire.'
'And what does that tell us about the nature of this material? How does it help?' Dobbs wondered.
'Maybe it doesn't,' the Doctor admitted. 'But the solution is, as ever, within the problem itself. Understand the problem. and we shall find the answer.'
'The answer to what, though?' Stobbold wondered. He was feeling weary from his long day walking. He stifled a yawn.
'There is evil here, all around us.' The Doctor leaned forward, hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets like a lecturer admonishing an inattentive student. 'Can't you sense it? Doesn't it eat into your bones, your very being?'
'I am not sure that it does,' Stobbold said. 'I am not sure that I understand at all, Doctor. But allow me a few hours sleep and. rested, I may be better able to follow your reasoning.'
As Stobbold left the room, Dobbs was also rising, also yawning.
'Professor,' Stobbold heard the Doctor's low voice behind him. He paused in the doorway just long enough to catch the rest of what the Doctor said. 'A moment, if you would.'
Stobbold hesitated. Perhaps the Doctor wished to offer his condolences for the loss of Alistair Gaddis alone and in private. He stepped out of the room.
'I have a suggestion.' The Doctor's voice floated back to him as Stobbold closed the door.
Stobbold did not linger further. He might not be able within his heart of hearts to condemn the Doctor's cavalier and unwarranted behaviour, but neither could he bring himself to condone it.
Although he was filled with both excitement and trepidation at the pending adventure, Dobbs drifted off into a light sleep. He was awakened by the Doctor's insistent knock at his door. Dobbs pulled on his coat over the clothes he was still wearing and joined the Doctor on the landing.
'What time is it?'
'A shade before three. Won't be light for a few hours yet.'
They made their silent way down through the house, pausing only when there was a creak from above them. Dobbs held his breath, feeling a prick of guilty conscience that they had not involved their host in their plans. But the Doctor's argument that Stobbold would rather not know of their intentions had seemed persuasive at the time.
Hearing no further sounds from above, they continued on their furtive way. The Doctor managed to draw back the bolts and undo the lock on the front door without making much noise, and he carefully closed the door behind them. Still without a word, they made their way down the Rectory drive and up the hill towards the Grange.
Getting into the house was rather easier than Dobbs had anticipated. He imagined the Doctor had some devious and convoluted plan to pick the lock of the door and deal with the heavy bolts and chain. In the event, the Doctor's strategy was to walk all round the Grange in the hope that they would find a ground floor window that was unlatched.
That's a bit of luck,' Dobbs hissed as the Doctor led him round to a window that was indeed slightly open.
'Luck? I don't believe in luck.' The Doctor gestured for Dobbs to lace his fingers together to make a cradle for his foot. 'I unlatched it when I was here for Nepath's coffee morning.'
'Coffee morning?' Dobbs asked. But the weight was gone from his hands, and the Doctor's feet were disappearing through the window. Moments later, the Doctor was at the window, reaching down to help the Professor through.
The house was in darkness. Only the light of the pale crescent moon shone at intervals through open curtains to illuminate their progress. The Doctor led Dobbs through the night silence, up a flight of stairs and off into a wing of the large house. At every point where they might be overlooked, or where there was a door within sight, they paused, and Dobbs caught his breath. His stomach was churning and he was sure that anyone asleep nearby would be wakened by the beating of his nervous heart.
'Here we are,' the Doctor murmured as he opened a door and stepped into another darkened room.
Dobbs followed him inside and the Doctor closed the door behind them. They were in a room that was about twenty feet square. As Dobbs's eyes adjusted to the gloom he could make out cabinets arranged round the walls. A table stood at the front of the room, chairs set out in front of it and he realised this was the room where the Doctor had attended Nepath's auction.
The Doctor seemed not to have needed to let his eyes adjust. He was already at a display cabinet, examining the contents through the glass doors.
'Anything of interest?' Dobbs inquired, making his careful way over to join the Doctor.
'Not in here, I'm afraid.' The Doctor's eyes gleamed in the faint light. 'But he'd hardly put it on display. We must extend our search. Leave no stone unturned, no nook or cranny unexamined.' With that, he was gone.
It took Dobbs a moment to work out quite where he had gone. It was when the door opened again that he realised the Doctor was leaving the room, and he hastened to catch up.
'Let's try this one,' the Doctor whispered as he opened the next door along the corridor. He opened the door, and immediately closed it again, moving on to the next one. 'Small bedroom,' he explained. 'Empty.'
About half way along the corridor the Doctor gave a quiet exclamation of delight and stepped inside a room. Dobbs followed, expecting to find himself once more negotiating a gloomy half*darkness. But in fact there was more than enough light to see. There were no curtains at the high windows and so the moonlight streamed into the room unhindered. It cast its pale light over the display cases and cabinets, the packing crates and tea chests, the bare floorboards and the door at the far end of the room.
Dobbs lost track of the time they spent rummaging about in the gloom. Before long he was bored with the process despite the inherent danger of the situation. 'What are we looking for?' he asked.
'I really don't know,' the Doctor admitted. 'I just hope I know when I find it.'
'So do I,' Dobbs said. He pulled another carefully*wrapped bundle from the packing case he was searching. A few tugs at the tissue paper covering the item was enough to satisfy him it was nothing out of the ordinary or sinister. It was a statue of a bird, its wings spread. It looked vaguely familiar, but he pushed the wrapping back into place nonetheless.
'What was that?' the Doctor demanded close beside him.
Dobbs froze. 'I heard nothing.'
'No, no, no. What was it you just wrapped up again?'
'Oh. A bird.' It came to him then. 'Same as one in the case you were looking at in that first room.'
'The Phoenix,' the Doctor said, his voice an urgent whisper.
Dobbs shrugged, handing the package to the Doctor. 'If you say so.'
The Doctor pulled the tissue paper from the statue, ripping it away. 'The display case in the other room was labelled Urdesh Urdesh,' he said as he freed the bird. 'It contained the items that Nepath claims have the memory ability, can reform themselves in the heat. Here, hold this.' He thrust the metal bird back at Dobbs and dropped to the floor.
'What are you doing?' Dobbs demanded as the Doctor crawled round the crate on all fours examining the sides.
'Aha!' With a harsh whisper of triumph the Doctor pointed to dark writing stencilled on one of the sides. It read 'Urdesh Province'. Then he started rummaging in the newspaper packing and pulling items out of the crate and unwrapping them frantically. As he unrolled each item he dropped the tissue paper to the floor and handed the artefact to Dobbs. Before long his arms were full.
'Doctor,' Dobbs said, 'all these items were in the cabinet. Or copies of them anyway.'
'Copies, yes,' the Doctor agreed with delight. 'And these seem normal enough. Just genuine valuable antique exotica.' He started to retrieve the items from Dobbs, re*wrapping each one carefully and rapidly then returning it to the packing case.
'You mentioned copies earlier,' Dobbs said slowly as he thought back to their after*dinner conversation. 'Plato, was it?'
'You think these are the originals from which the others imperfectly derive?' The Doctor took the final artefact the phoenix from Dobbs and smothered it efficiently in tissue paper. 'You may be right. But it isn't any celestial mechanism at work here.'
'No?'
'No. It's a con.'
'What?'
'A confidence trick.' The Doctor started across the room. He was making for the door on the far side. 'A deception. This property that Nepath says comes from the secret techniques and ceremonies of the Urdesh, this quasi*religious expertise is nothing of the sort.' He paused in front of the door, turning to face Dobbs. 'He's making the things himself. There is no refining, no magic, no distillation or manufacturing process. It's a property inherent in the material itself.'
He did not wait for Dobbs to comment. He opened the door. Beyond was a black void, an impenetrable darkness. The Doctor stepped into it.
Dobbs stood for what seemed a life time at the edge of the darkness. The Doctor seemed to have been swallowed up. For a few seconds Dobbs had heard his muffled footsteps fading deeper into the void. Now there was nothing. just as he was deciding that perhaps the easiest and safest thing would be to turn and leave, to abandon the Doctor to whatever fate had befallen him, he heard the scrape of a match and saw the sudden flare of light across the room.
The Doctor had found a gas lamp on the far wall and was lighting it. The light as the mantel caught cast angular shadows across his face as he leaned across to replace the cover, and the soft glow seemed to permeate the room. There were curtains at the windows here, heavy and dull drawn across to blot out any trace of natural light.
Beneath the light, beside the Doctor, stood a single large, upright display case. It reminded Dobbs of the animal cases in the Natural History Museum.
'There.' The Doctor stepped back, evidently pleased with himself. He shook the match to extinguish it. A dark trickle of smoke continued to rise from the blackened stump of wood. 'Oh dear.' As he spoke, the Doctor was standing between Dobbs and the display case, obscuring his view. 'Oh dear, oh me.'
Dobbs walked across to join the Doctor, to see what was in the case.
The Doctor was shaking his head, lips pursed tightly together. 'I don't like the look of that at all.'