Harcourt's servant girl Mary has remained at the modest home of Miss Carrow and her aunt. She is so respectful, and so helpful, that Miss Carrow's aunt has granted her permission to undertake the journey to Harcourt House.
"This may be your introduction to society, my dear," she whispers to her virtuous niece.
Thursday evening. A moon, nearly full, rises almost at the same moment that the sun sets. One of credulous mind might think it a night when revenants walk the Earth.
Davros arrives soon after sunset. After Mary and Miss Carrow have settled in, he makes his way to the London quarters of Doctor North. Brief introductions are made, establishing that Doctor North is not only a physician of note, but an Earl, with a castle. An observer of their meeting might speculate that Miss Carrow is delighted to be traveling in such distinguished company, but might also wonder if Doctor North's reputation as one who tampers with matters best left alone may have preceded him. For his part, does the company of two such lovely and charming ladies bring a brief smile to his melancholy expression?
After some time spent negotiating the somewhat less respectable streets of London, the coach arrives at the modest home of Mister Rachman. It is evident to all that his features bear the look of the Orient. Whether this makes his meeting with his fellow travelers an awkward one, or whether the fact that he bears the same invitation from their as yet unseen host lends him enough respectability to overcome his origins, is an interesting question.
In any case, once the coach has left London for a highway leading in a southwesterly direction, the ride becomes too wild for such considerations. Davros compels his horses to run at a furious pace. Surely this is madness at night, even with a bright moon to assist the coach's lanterns in lighting the way! Protests are of no avail, presuming that the coachman can even hear them over his shouts and the crack of his whip. Conversation becomes nearly impossible as the coach jostles its passengers this way and that. The surrounding woodland becomes a silvery blur.
"No worries," Mary manages to shout above the din. "Davy's a rare one for drivin', he is." One must hope her confidence is not misplaced.
After an hour or so of this remarkable journey, it is brought to an unexpected halt. With a enormous crash, a dead tree, its mighty bulk twisted into grotesque shapes, falls in front of the coach. Davros pulls back hard on the reins. The passengers collide into each other and into the sides of their compartment. It seems likely that only the coachman's expert skill has prevented any serious injuries. As Davros descends to examine the damage, and the passengers assure themselves that they are still alive, a loud, deep, but strangely muffled voice comes from the woods.
"Stand and deliver!"
Three figures emerge from their hiding place. Front and center stands a tall, broad man dressed entirely in black. A black cloth covers his face, with only small openings over his eyes. An enormous black hat hides the rest of his head. He holds a pistol in his left hand, pointed at the coach.
At his right hand is a short, thin young man, hardly more than a boy, pale of skin and hair. To his left is an older man, entirely bald, with muscular arms. The young man holds a large dagger in his right hand. The older man holds a throwing knife in each hand.
Davros shouts at his horses. They rear and stomp the ground as if they are enraged. This frightful display distracts the highwaymen for a moment; just long enough for you to emerge from the coach and decide what action you will take.
Will you surrender to these bandits, and hope that they will spare your life? If you are armed, will you attack and hope for the advantage of surprise? Will you attempt to run away into the woods, and hope that they will not find you? Or do you have another plan in mind?
You have only enough time to speak a few words to your fellow passengers, if you choose to work together.
What will you do?
MISS CARROW: