The pair got up to leave. The Doctor gripped O’Kane by the hand. ‘Mr O’Kane! Big fan, big fan. and you – !’ He turned to Dolly. ‘Nice to see you. I’ve got all your song-sheets!’

Polly seemed pleased but unable to smile. She went out.

‘I’m sorry I can’t spare you longer,’ said Mortlock after they were gone. ‘The contest resumes in – Wait a moment, it’s you!’

‘Pardon?’ said the Doctor.

‘It’s you,’ laughed Mortlock. ‘The pin-head who got himself all tangled up with the acrobats last night! Quite a show you put on for us. If it had been up to me, I’d put you through to the next round.’

The Doctor ran his hand through his hair. ‘Why does everyone keep banging on about – ! That was me, yeah. I like to soak up the atmosphere, you see, before I write an article. I wanted to glimpse with my own eyes this great human menagerie of yours! Got a little too close for comfort.’

‘I trust you’re quite recovered.’

‘Quite recovered, thank you.’ The Doctor took out a notebook and started scribbling.

‘A human menagerie?’ drawled Mortlock. ‘Is that how you regard the contest? I disagree. We’re just giving the public what they want.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘They love the drama of it, you see. The cut and thrust! Following an act right through from their humble beginnings to their ultimate glory! Their journeys. And some of them have very sad stories to relate.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ said the Doctor. ‘Workhouse upbringings, mums who took strychnine to escape the horror of it all, that sort of thing?’

‘Precisely!’

‘But what’s in it for the winner?’ quizzed the Doctor. ‘A fortnight’s booking on the halls? A bottle of ginger pop?’

Mortlock frowned and gestured expansively with his big, meaty hands. ‘Surely you know? The grand final is to take place in front of the Prince of Wales!’

The Doctor whistled. ‘You don’t say? Old Bertie? There must be a pretty girl in it, then. Oh, of course, there is! The charming Miss Dante! She’s just his type. Who’s your money on?’

‘Oh, I really can’t say. You understand, I must be discreet! Though I have every confidence in Miss Dante. Every confidence.’

There was a tiny, musical chime.

Mortlock consulted his watch. ‘We’re back on. I’m afraid that’s all I have time for.’

‘Of course,’ said the Doctor, getting up. ‘One final thing. A colleague of mine. Fellow hack. Name of Bob Blood. He was found last night, not far from here – sans bonce.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Head sliced clean off. Know anything about that?’

Mortlock cocked a big black eyebrow. ‘How very tragic. But how can that possibly concern me?’

‘Your name was on his person,’ said the Doctor quietly.