Exhausted and broken, her daughter shuffled forward and knelt down, bowing her lovely head. ‘I am here, Mama.’

The dying woman clasped her daughter’s hand, her breath coming in rasps. ‘Forgive me, child. Forgive me … ’

Ada moved nearer, ever nearer so she could whisper in her mother’s ear. Whisper forgiveness. Whisper that final word of reconciliation …

‘NEVER!’ she hissed.

And a small, crazed smile formed on Mrs Gillyflower’s lips. ‘That’s … my … girl … ’

With a final sigh, her eyes rolled up glassily in her head like a china doll’s – and she expired.

Suddenly, the night sky through the Mill window was brilliantly illuminated as Mrs Gillyflower’s rocket exploded. Harmlessly.

In the ensuing silence, all became aware of a skin-crawling, sucking sound as the red leech writhed disgustingly towards the shadows.

Ada looked up.

‘What will you do with that thing?’ queried Jenny, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

The Doctor shrugged. ‘Take it back to the Jurassic era, maybe. Out of harm’s way—’

Slam! With a cry, Ada brought her cane down onto Mr Sweet, her lip curled in fury. Feeling with her toe, she smashed again and again and again at the foul thing, crushing it into a sticky mass of cartilage and glutinous flesh. At last, panting with the effort, she tossed aside her white cane and sobbed.

The Doctor shrugged. ‘On the other hand … ’

*

Click. Whirr.

The man with the celluloid hand turned the page of the newspaper and peered myopically at its cramped print. Dr Fetch was unused to reading the Yorkshire Clarion but had made an exception for one, fascinating item. ‘Noted scientist perishes in mill accident.’

By the dim yellow glow of his lamp, Fetch noted with satisfaction that Mrs Gillyflower had departed this earthly realm. It seemed he had done right to set those dogged investigators on her trail. For it did not do to rebel against the power of his organisation. No, he would continue to thrive. To go on seeding the world with his heady brew of confusion and despair. No individual member could be bigger than C.A.B.A.L.

Click. Whirr.

He raised a glass of Madeira to his fallen comrade and then laid down the newspaper, his mind already spinning with the possibilities for new mischief …

*

Narrative of Jonas Thursday, Esq.

And, so, reader, our story comes to its end.

Dawn brought hard work as the Doctor supervised the reanimation of all the ‘dipped’ young people who had so foolishly followed the siren lure of Mrs Gillyflower’s promises of a new life. The coffin-like machines rattled and steamed as one after another took breath and stepped out into the sunlight. Or the closest that Bradford could offer.

One such was Abigail Blench, who took the Doctor’s proffered hand as he helped her from the device. She looked a little bewildered, glanced at Jenny who stood nearby and her face fell.