Tunnels 03, Freefall

Tantrumi stood up from the sink, the tap running on full as she gripped the handle of the kettle so tightly Dr. Burrows could see her knuckles drain of blood.
    "No, he's not. Poor soul tripped on the pavement and broke his arm." She stared at the water swirling around and draining into the plug hole as she spoke. "Then he picked up a nasty infection in Highfield General, and was terribly ill. He did get better, but they said he couldn't look after himself and packed him off to a nursing home, so I don't see him anymore."
    "Do you know which nursing home he went into?" Dr. Burrows inquired.
    "No, I don't, and I can't visit him anyway, not with my hips the way they are," she said mournfully. "I do miss him so. He was a good friend."
    "I'm very sorry," Dr. Burrows said, rather unconvincingly. "But you must have some idea which home he's in."
    "No, dear, I don't," Mrs. Tantrumi replied, finishing the task of filling the kettle, then swaying over to the cooker with a series of 'oohs' and 'aahs', as if each step was causing her considerable discomfort.
    "Poor old Oscar," Dr. Burrows said distantly, turning to regard the doorway to the basement. "Would you mind if I took another look down there, where the luminescent orb was found?"
    "Ludicrous orb, dear? What's that?" she asked, squinting at him.
    "The object you so very kindly donated to the museum. Don't you remember?"
    Mrs. Tantrumi thought for a second, her frail hands trembling. "Oh, of course, I know -- the glass ball. Yes, please do have a look, if you want." She took a large tin from the kitchen counter. "Would you like a biscuit, first?" she offered, as she struggled to get the lid off.
    Clutching his Garibaldi biscuit, Dr. Burrows glanced at Will whose head was just visible as he peered over the garden wall from the alleyway. Dr. Burrows raised his eyebrows at Will, then made his way down the mossy brick steps to the basement. Once there he went straight for the area that lay to the front of the house. All was silent in the darkened basement, except for the sound his feet were making in the dirt.
    As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw that the wardrobe wasn't where it had been before. In fact, there was no sign of it anywhere. "What the blazes!" he muttered. "Somebody's nicked it!"
    Still muttering to himself, he took a moment to give the old piano another quick inspection . Moldering against a damp wall, it appeared to be in an even worse state than the last time he'd seen it; one side had become detached and the instrument sat lopsidedly, as if it was at the point of collapsing altogether. Lifting the lid, Dr. Burrows found that many of the keys now didn't make any sound at all when he played them. Stamping his feet on the ground by the base of the walls, he made a complete circuit of the basement, certain that somewhere he was going to find a trapdoor. But the ground felt solid enough, and he'd just decided to check the walls themselves when he heard a noise behind him.
    He wheeled around.
    Silhouetted in the light coming from the garden, he saw a figure lurch at him. He also saw it was wielding something in its hand, something that glinted, like polished steel.
    "YOU'VE MEDDLED ONCE TOO OFTEN!" the figure shrieked.
    "Mrs. Tantrumi!" Dr. Burrows cried as he recognized who it was.
    The speed at which the old lady was moving took him completely by surprise. Her face set in a vicious snarl, she lunged at him with the knife, not showing any trace of the frailty she'd exhibited before.
    All of a sudden there was a resounding crash, and Garibaldi biscuits and custard creams flew everywhere. Mrs. Tantrumi stopped dead in her tracks and, as the evil-looking knife fell from her hand, she keeled over.
    "Will!" Dr. Burrows gasped as he saw that his son was standing there. He'd evidently been right behind the crazed old lady.
    Dr. Burrows' face was a picture of confusion as he attempted to deal with what had just taken place. "She... she was going to stab me." He looked gratefully at his son. "Thank you, Will."
    "No problem. I couldn't decide whether to use this," Will said, as he held up the dented and now empty biscuit tin, "or a flower pot to wallop her one."
    The both peered down at Mrs. Tantrumi, who was lying on her side. Although she'd been stunned by the blow, she seemed to be recovering quickly. She rubbed her cranium with an aggrieved expression, then immediately tried to get to the knife again.
    "What do we do now?" Dr. Burrows asked, as he watched the old