She rose to her feet. ‘I’d like to stop now.’

‘Can I just ask you a—’

‘No,’ she interjected, turning to walk away.

Ben was worried he had offended the woman. He stepped over to the stable door and drew aside the board to let her out. Mary had been his star player. He had had such high hopes for her. But she wasn’t off the field yet. There was that one question that Sparling had asked him to throw into the mix. Even if Ben returned to him with a report full of blank pages, he could say that he had at least answered that.

‘Thanks for your time, Mary,’ he said.

‘You’re welcome,’ she replied, but her face betrayed how she really felt.

It was now or never. What was it that Sparling had called it, the creeper?

‘One last thing, before you leave, Mary,’ he asked, ‘have you ever heard of…’

‘Stop,’ she shouted into his face, sending him toppling back against the doorframe. ‘You have to stop this. No more questions.’

And with that the woman was gone, leaving Ben to wipe her spittle from his eyes. He was out of practice, embarrassingly so, like a musician who had bounded up on stage and forgotten how to hold his guitar. He had chased away the one person who had actually shown him some hospitality, and he hadn’t recorded a single worthwhile answer.

The villagers’ dress and lifestyle fitted the mould that Sparling had cast for them. But it was ludicrous to imagine that not one of these people had ever ventured beyond so small and socially limiting a village. Even the best-behaved dog could be lured outside its master’s gate by natural curiosity.

Ben pictured Sparling’s face frozen in an expression of abject disappointment. It was as he remembered, only that staged little smile of his was dragged down on either side like a sad clown. The truth would come soon enough, and the doctor would pay his fee whether this was his Atlantis or not.

When Ben returned out to the open, he couldn’t see Mary anywhere. The villagers who dallied around the common – those who had reluctantly agreed to being interviewed – were whispering amongst themselves like prisoners planning a jailbreak. They had obviously watched Mary storm out of the stable, looking none too pleased. Luckily, the wasp wasn’t around. He was mean enough without giving him a reason.

‘Okay,’ Ben whispered, slapping his cheeks, trying to focus on the task at hand. ‘Let’s try that again.’

He counted nine in all – five women and four men – orbiting the same worn circle of clay.

‘Now then,’ Ben loudly announced, ‘who’d like to go next?’