"I 'ave ter know, too," he agreed. "Or 'ow do we stop 'em from goin' on faster and faster till they bring the 'ole bleedin' roof in an' mebbe bury an 'undred men alive? Or worse 'n that, set the gas alight an' start 'nother Great Fire o' London?"

She said nothing. She did not know the answer, but it troubled her. If Mary had been right, could she possibly have been the only one to see the danger? Surely her questions alone would have been sufficient to alarm other people. Was that what Alan Argyll had been concerned about, not the actual situation but the fears and suspicion Mary was stirring up? Was there ever cause to think it could have started a panic?

"They don't seem afraid," she said aloud. "They don't really think it'll happen, do they?"

Sutton looked at her. "Afraid o' wot?" he said gently. "Think about it too 'ard, an' yer'll be afraid o' the 'ole o' life. Bein' 'urt, bein' ungry, bein' cold, bein' alone. Or yer mean bein' drownded or buried alive? Don't think too far ahead. Just do terday."

"Is that what Argyll counts on? Poor Mary."

"Dunno," he confessed. "But it don't make sense like it is."

She did not argue, and they walked in companionable silence to the bus stop.

SIX

SIX

Monk was standing in the kitchen when he heard Hester come in at the front door. He spun around and strode into the hall. He immediately saw how she was dressed and that her face was pinched and weary. Her hair was straggling as if she had tied it in a knot rather than bothered dressing it at all, and her sleeves and trousers were wet.

"Where in hell have you been?" he said abruptly, alarm making his voice sharper than he had meant. He was very close to her, almost touching her. "What's happened?"

She did not even try to prevaricate. "I've been in the tunnels, with Sutton. I'm perfectly all right, but there's something terribly wrong there," she said, looking directly at him. "It isn't as easy as I thought. The engines are enormous, and they're shaking the ground. It's nothing to do with what James Havilland or Mary discovered. They all know it's dangerous; it's part of the job." Her eyes were searching his face now, looking for help, explanations to make sense of it. "They all know about the fact that there are streams underground, and wells, and that the clay slips. Hundreds of people live down there! But Mary was going from one person to another asking questions. What could she have been looking for, and why did it matter?"