Sarah grimaced and stared at her three admirers. 'Don't you have something better to do?' she asked them. 'Like lessons, for instance?'

'No,' Kipling replied. 'Term starts next week, so we're free.'

'And at a loose end,' added Dunsterville. 'So here we are.'

'And you're awfully pretty,' Beresford finished, 'so we don't mind being seen with you. It'll do our reps scads of good.'

'Wonderful,' Sarah muttered. 'And my nerves irreparable harm, probably.' She was starting to wish she hadn't wanted to meet Kipling. As an adult he would have been fascinating, but as a fifteen-year-old boy . . . well, he was a fifteen-year-old boy, and that said it all. Now what? Well, since the men had effectively shut her out from their autopsy, she might as well get to work on something else. 'This friend of yours who vanished,' she said, hoping that this would distract their attention from her body for a while. 'Tell me about him.'

'Well, he wasn't really our friend,' Dunsterville confessed. 'He's only ten, after all.'

'And not at all sophisticated, like us,' Kipling added.

'Give me a break,' muttered Sarah.

'And he's more like a responsibility,' Dunsterville said, staring at Beresford.

Beresford nodded. 'His pater and mine are chums, you see, and we were asked to sort of keep an eye on him.' He pouted. 'And you know how infernally dull that can be.'

Sarah was starting to catch on. 'And what did you do with him?' she asked.

'Nothing!' Beresford protested.

'Well, almost nothing,' Kipling amended.

Raising an eyebrow, Sarah surveyed them sceptically. 'Let's have it.'

Both the other boys looked at Beresford, who shuffled his feet uncomfortably. 'Well, the truth of the matter is that we ragged him a bit. Told him a few fibs about ourselves, and said he'd got a lot to learn.'

'Such as?' Sarah prompted.

'Well, about women, for example,' Beresford admitted. 'We spun a few yarns '

'You did,' said Kipling smugly. 'Mine were all true.'

' a few yarns,' Beresford continued, 'about the fish-girls here in the village. So he skipped out one night last week and never came back.'

'I see.' Sarah sighed. It was typical of teenaged boys, but Anders had been a young and impressionable target. 'So how much of this did you actually tell the police?'

'Faversham?' Dunsterville looked appalled. 'Just that Anders left early in the evening, nothing more. He wouldn't understand what it is to be a man of the world, like you do.'

'Thanks, I think,' said Sarah dryly. 'Okay, let's start from there. Do you happen to recall if you mentioned any names to Anders, or were you too polite for that?'

Kipling sn.i.g.g.e.red. 'We did casually let Jen Walker's name crop up.'

Now she was getting somewhere. 'And did this lady ever see Anders?'

Dunsterville shrugged. 'We don't know. She isn't speaking to us just at this moment.'

'I can't imagine why,' Sarah said. 'So where can I find her?'

Kipling hooked a finger over his shoulder. 'She works here, as the barmaid,' he told her. 'Dark-haired and almost as pretty as you are.' He glanced at Sarah's ankles. 'I'll bet you have nicer legs though,' he added hopefully.

'Dream about them,' Sarah suggested. 'Right you lot stay here. I'll go and have a chat with this Jen Walker.' As she started to move off, she added, 'And try not to hara.s.s anyone while I'm gone, okay?'

'Us?' asked Kipling, the picture of innocence. 'Would we do that?'

'You'd better not,' Sarah advised him. 'Or there's likely to be three more missing kids by this evening.'

Tolliver's boat was a typical small fis.h.i.+ng vessel. The nets were still on the deck and the sail had been furled, obviously after it had been moored. Otherwise, Brackley a.s.sured them, the boat was exactly how it had been when the men had found it adrift.

The Doctor scurried aboard and began peering at the gunwales. Doyle, Martinson and Sir Alexander followed him.

Brackley hovered at the top of the plank.

'Where was the body discovered?' Doyle asked.

'Fore of the cabin, sir,' Brackley replied.

Doyle nodded, and skirted about the tiny structure. On the deck was a splash of dried blood. 'Ah!' he exclaimed. 'Not sufficient for Tolliver to have been attacked on board.' He glanced at the cabin. 'And nowhere for any terrestrial animal to hide, either. So he was definitely attacked from the sea.'

'I agree,' the Doctor commented, kneeling beside the gunwale close by Doyle. 'What do you make of this?'

Doyle bent to examine the marks the Doctor had found. The Doctor offered the use of his magnifying gla.s.s, which Doyle accepted. 'Scratches in the wood,' he observed, puzzled. 'I'm afraid that the significance of it escapes me.'

'Recent,' the Doctor commented. 'The wood exposed is unweathered. And it's close to where the body fell. I'd say that whatever killed Tolliver made these marks. There are just the two of them, here and here.' He pointed to the two gashes, about two and a half feet apart. 'That suggests a width for the creature. The marks are probably the result of its flippers or fins striking the wood.'

'There's no sign of blood in the marks,' objected Doyle. 'Surely any blows sufficient to make these gashes would have scored the skin of the attacker and drawn blood.'

'Unless the hide was too tough,' the Doctor said. 'In many aquatic creatures the skin, especially on the nippers, is extremely tough.'

Sir Alexander frowned. 'Are you suggesting that he was killed by something like a seal? Your mention of nippers suggests that conclusion.'

The Doctor gave a large smile. 'And some seals have very sharp teeth,' he pointed out. 'They are carnivores, after all, and their mouths are positioned well for the attack.'

'But they have never been known to attack a man!' protested Martinson.

'No,' agreed the Doctor thoughtfully. 'But this has all the indications that they have started now.' He pondered ideas for a moment. 'And they are trainable,' he mused. 'I wonder . . .'

Sir Alexander was almost spluttering. 'But there are only a few grey seals about this coast,' he protested. 'And they are perfectly harmless.'

'I agree,' the Doctor said. He looked up at Doyle suddenly. 'Is the Hope Hope a whaler alone?' a whaler alone?'

'Why, no,' Doyle replied. 'We've also got a fair supply of seal skins.'

'No live ones, though?'

'Of course not,' Doyle answered. 'There's no market for them.'

The Doctor removed his cap and ran his hand through his mane of curly hair. 'Isn't your vessel out of some Scottish port?' he asked.

'Peterhead.'

'Ah!' The Doctor gave another of his smiles. 'And what brings it to Devon, then?'

Doyle shrugged. 'Captain Gray had business here; that's all I know.'

'Look here,' broke in Sir Alexander, 'surely that is irrelevant to the matter of Tolliver's death?'

'Irrelevant?' The Doctor stared at the Justice as if he were a silly child. 'A whaling s.h.i.+p stops off here instead of Scotland, barely hours before a man is killed and its irrelevant irrelevant? It has a cargo of seal skins, and the man is apparently killed by a pair of attack seals, and it's irrelevant irrelevant?' He whirled around to face Doyle. 'I'd like to have a word with this captain of yours.'

Doyle shrugged. 'I can introduce you to him when he returns to the s.h.i.+p this evening, but he's not aboard right now.'

The Doctor nodded. 'And who is it that he has business with?'

'A man called Breckinridge, that's all I know,' Doyle answered.

Sir Alexander smiled. 'Well then, that's no problem, is it?'

The Doctor glared at him. 'It might not be,' he snapped. 'It might help if I knew who this Breckinridge was.'

The Justice stared at him in amazement. 'Surely you must have heard of him.'

'If I had,' the Doctor retorted, 'I wouldn't need to ask questions, would I?'

'Well,' Sir Alexander said, taken aback, 'he's an industrialist who built a factory on the edge of the village last year.

He's very well known, and quite a pleasant chappie.'

'You know him?'

'Well,' Sir Alexander admitted, 'I think he's done splendid work since he arrived here, and he's given many of the locals jobs when they would otherwise be starving. He's a very generous and kind man. I'm sure you'd like him.'

'I'd appreciate the chance to meet him,' the Doctor agreed. He looked around as Faversham hurried up the jetty toward the boat. 'Ah, there you are. What kept you?'

The policeman was almost out of breath. 'Another crime has just been reported,' he announced, huffing and panting.

'And I thought this was such a quiet little town,' the Doctor observed dryly. 'Well, what's the latest event in this crime spree?'

'Somebody broke into the cemetery last night,' Faversham said. 'They dug up the grave of Missus Bellaver and stole her corpse.'

4.

Wild Hunt uriouser and curiouser,' said the Doctor, intrigued.

'C Sir Alexander stared at him. 'Surely you don't believe that there's any connection between Tolliver's death and the stolen body?'

The Doctor rolled his eyes. 'Unless this sleepy little town has suddenly developed a crime wave of epidemic propor-tions, we have to a.s.sume a connection.'

Doyle looked puzzled. 'I can't see one.'

'Nor can I yet,' admitted the Doctor. 'What did this Missus Bellaver die from?'

'Purely natural causes,' Doctor Martinson broke in hastily. 'I myself was there when she expired. She was eighty-seven years old and very frail. She died three nights ago, before the Hope Hope arrived.' arrived.'

'So,' Sir Alexander said gruffly, 'there is no connection.'

'No,' the Doctor argued. 'We simply haven't found one yet.' He stared thoughtfully at the constable. 'Is this the first time somebody dead has turned up missing?' When Faversham didn't answer immediately, the Doctor turned to Sir Alexander. 'Well, is it?'

'There have been two other cases recently,' the Justice admitted carefully.

'Then why didn't you say so?' the Doctor snapped. 'I know, I know, they didn't seem relevant. Well, how recently?'

'Just over six months ago and about twelve weeks ago.' Sir Alexander looked a little crestfallen.

'And when does the first missing child date back to?' asked the Doctor, with all the patience he could muster.

'Approximately the same length of time, sir,' Faversham admitted.

'I see.' The Doctor glared from the constable to his superior. 'And you didn't see any connection?'

'How could there be one?' argued Sir Alexander, reddening slightly.

'How could there not be?' the Doctor countered. 'And all this began happening since your philanthropic Mister Breckinridge arrived in town?'

'My dear Doctor!' exclaimed Doctor Martinson. 'Surely you are making too many inferences from too few facts.'

The Doctor considered the point. 'Perhaps I am,' he agreed. 'But that points to the need to gather more facts, doesn't it?'

'We were working on the a.s.sumption,' Sir Alexander said, 'that Resurrectionists were responsible for the missing bodies, and that it is entirely unrelated to the missing children.'