‘God, Doctor. What is it?’ Clara, who had seen a fair few queer things in her travels with the Doctor, could not keep the note of disgust from her voice as she watched Mrs Gillyflower feeding strips of wet liver to the thing that clung to her flesh.

‘A survivor, my dear!’ Mrs Gillyflower cried. ‘He has grown fat on the filth Humanity has pumped into the rivers. That’s where I found him.’

The Doctor eyed the hourglass warily. ‘Very enterprising.’

Mrs Gillyflower shrugged. ‘His needs are simple. A little meat. Perhaps a little blood. And in return he gives me his … nectar.’

Clara nodded, almost to herself. ‘The venom.’

‘It has taken some time to harvest … ’ Mrs Gillyflower let slip another sliver of liver into the creature’s throat. It gurgled contentedly like some monstrous infant. ‘But now I have enough for my purpose.’

The Doctor took a step forward and Mrs Gillyflower tensed, every sense alert as she reached for a huge brass lever on the organ and rammed it down.

‘Mrs Gillyflower!’ yelled the Doctor. ‘You have no idea what you’re dealing with! In the wrong hands that venom could wipe out all life on this planet!’

The formidable woman thrust her arms in front of her. ‘Do you know what these are …?’ She gave a gay little laugh. ‘The wrong hands!’

Chapter the Ninth

‘Dame’s Rocket’

EXTRACT FROM DATA CORE – 7900 – XVL COMMANDER STRAX

Madam Vastra’s words did sting. Ordinarily, I can quite easily manage on the protein-pulp exuded by the nourishment clusters in my battle armour. This ingenious device converts most raw material (Earth plants, horses and what have you) into the basics necessities required to sustain life. It is flavourless and colourless and entirely efficient. But it does not go down as well as Sherbet fancies.

And now, as I gazed up at the vast chimney that dominated Sweetville and it suddenly flared with light, from its base to its tip, I knew what I must do. Smoke began to billow from it at long last. Except it wasn’t smoke at all. It was steam …

Thomas Thomas, the urchin boy-thing who had been so useful to me, gazed up at the chimney in wonder, little knowing that, within, Mrs Gillyflower’s deadly missile was being prepared.

I looked on too, and with a more experienced eye …

Then I took out some sweeties, stuffed them into my gob and began to climb the chimney.

Suddenly, a shudder – the great chimney trembled! I almost lost my grip. For a long moment, I hung from one finger – then, with a grunt, slammed my body back against bricks and clambered on.

Far below, Thomas Thomas looked on in excited awe at my evident bravery and bellowed his encouragement.

‘Come on, potato man! You can do it!’

For which epithet I shall, of course, hunt him down and slaughter him.

*

Extract from the Phonographic record of Ada Gillyflower.