Dark Room

She was dressed in black with a dark woolen hat pulled low over her forehead. He studied her wet shoes for a moment before nodding towards the spire. 'I was pondering man's destruction,' he said, 'and whether when it comes to it, as it surely will, he will destroy himself or his artifacts first.'

'I don't suppose it matters much,' she said, following his gaze. 'Nature will overrun whatever we leave behind, so our artifacts will cease to exist whether we destroy them or not.'

'It's rather depressing, isn't it?'

She laughed. 'It won't happen if man learns to live within his means, and if he can't learn, then he doesn't deserve his place on the planet. I have no sentimental attachment to mankind as a species. On the whole, I'd say we're one of the nastier byproducts of natural selection.' She pointed to the trees around the boundaries. 'They do nothing but good. We do nothing but harm.'

'They have no choice,' said Alan.

'Yes,' she said slowly. 'Free will is a bugger, isn't it?'

They sat in silence for a while.

'Nice hat,' said Protheroe finally.

'Matthew lent it to me to keep my head warm.'

He decided not to ask her if she had had it on Monday night. 'Where have you been?' he said instead.

'Walking.'

'You're very brave. According to Matthew, the place is crawling with would-be killers. I can't believe he hasn't alerted you to that threat when he took so much trouble to alert me.'

She nodded. 'Has he also told you about the fox in the trap, the one that was biting its own leg off to try and escape?'

'No.'

'It died of fright. I don't want to die of fright.'

'So you went for a walk to prove you're not afraid.'

'Yes.' She flicked him a quick glance, then resumed her study of the cathedral spire. 'But I couldn't sleep anyway. Matthew's bath wasn't very comfortable.'

'They rarely are,' he murmured. 'Is there a particular reason why you were trying to sleep in Matthew's bath?'

'Of course there was. I'm not in the habit of doing anything without a reason.'

'Are you going to tell me what it was?'

'His bathroom door has a lock on it.'

'I see.'

Another silence.

'So where was Matthew?'

'Probably in my bathroom, unless he was brave enough to sleep in my bed.'

He waited. 'Are you going to explain,' he said at last, 'or am I expected to go on racking my overtired and rather addled brains?'

'I'm his surrogate fox. He's become very bossy in the last couple of days, and I blame existentialism for it. He thinks assuming responsibility means taking control.' She turned to look at him and her quiet laugh fanned the hairs on his cheek.

Oh God, he thought. Think of ice packs, Protheroe. She's a patient, for Christ's sake.

STONEY BASSETT AIRFIELD, NEW FOREST-7:30 A.M.

There was a roar of sound as the car, which had been parked in the same place since dawn, sped across the tarmac and smashed on full throttle into the scarred concrete pillar. There was no survivor. Nor was there a convenient courting couple to effect a rescue. The car burst into flames almost on impact, probably because it was packed with open petrol cans, and by the time a passing motorist saw the smoke and called the fire brigade, the only occupant-the driver-was dead.

ROMSEY ROAD POLICE STATION, WINCHESTER-9:00 A.M.

'You'd better read this,' said Frank, poking a statement across his desk with the tip of his pen. 'A Mrs. Hanscombe and her daughter, Cindy, came in at four o'clock this morning to get Cindy's worries off her chest. Apparently, she's been having nightmares for two weeks and her mother felt the sooner she came clean, the sooner the family would get a decent night's sleep.'

It was Tuesday, June 14th. Me and Bobby Franklyn found the bodies after we'd done it in the woods. I ran away from Bobby and slid down this bank. I was that scared. Rex, my dog, had dug in the ditch and I saw this dead person. I think it was a man. Bobby said he'd stick me in there with him if I ever said a word, but I can't stand it no more. I keep dreaming the man's going to get me. No, I didn't know the ditch was there. I dug my heel in to stop myself sliding. I was afraid Bobby would catch me at the bottom.

I hate Bobby Franklyn. He's no good at anything. I'm twelve years old. Yes, he knows that.

Signed: CindyHanscombe

Parent's signature: P. Hanscombe

Maddocks read it slowly. 'So where do we go from here?' he asked.

'We go back to the beginning,' said the Superintendent. 'I want a second search made of Ardingly Woods, and I want all the water dragged within a mile radius. I also want the statements of every sighting on June the thirteenth