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is superb," agreed Tom. "I wonder what age we're talking."
    "Oh, I should think Celtic, almost certainly." Mr Cleever spoke with conviction. "The circle suggests that. But the style is very unusual. I've never seen anything quite like this before, even in London." Mr Cleever was chairman of the Fordrace and District archaeological trust, and sometimes organised Outings. He touched the edge of the cross with a tender gesture. "Delightful delicacy. Carved with great skill."
    "Rather puzzling symbolism," said Tom. "All this business up here round the circle."
    "Yes, what do you make of it?" Mr Cleever asked, looking up at the vicar with eyes that were half appraising, half amused. Tom caught the humour in the glance and felt his chest tightening with annoyance. He turned to the cross again.
    "This beast in the circle," he began, "might represent the devil, I suppose. He's often represented as a dragon or serpent. Some of the crosses in Northumberland show him that way, if I remember."
    "Well, they're often depicting Norse Myth as much as Christianity," interrupted Mr Cleever. "But there is a confluence of ideas there, I admit. So you think this is Old Nick, do you?"
    "It's an obvious interpretation," said Tom. "Perhaps too obvious for you, Mr Cleever. As a humble man of the cloth, my thoughts do tend that way, more's the pity." He cursed himself inwardly for getting riled so easily. "So the circle – and the cross, of course – serve to hem him in, keep him trapped."
    "That's good. I like that," said Mr Cleever.
    "As to these symbols here, the eye and the triangle and this thing here, I've no idea at all. The eye could be Vigilance, perhaps, if we're talking about means of restricting the Enemy; this thing might be a crown but why would that be? The triangle? Don't know."
    Mr Cleever smiled. "It is certainly all very mysterious." Again there was the hint of wry amusement which so irritated Tom.
    "What's your theory?" he asked, refusing to dance to the councillor's pleasure any longer.
    "I just wish we had the other arm," said Mr Cleever. "It's a very great pity it's missing, a very great pity. Do you think it's down there still?"
    "Almost certainly," said Tom. "I'd lay my dog-collar on it. Mr Purdew's men had a look, but it was getting late, and the ground's probably shifted in all the years it's been down there. We'll have a look tomorrow, if the men from the museum don't move in first."
    "What men?" asked Mr Cleever, sharply, but at that moment there were footsteps along the nave, and Elizabeth Price approached, carrying her briefcase.
    "I'm off now, Tom," she said. "Gosh, it's hot in here. Hello, Mr Cleever. What do you think of our prize?"
    "It's quite fantastic, Miss Price, and very important, and all due to our good Reverend here."
    "Hear, hear," said Elizabeth. "Well done, Tom. Listen, your friend Sarah rang just now. She says you're late, but you're not the only one because Michael hasn't come home either. He's been out on the Wirrim all day. If he's not back soon she's going to get worried, but if you're not back soon she's going to get angry."
    Tom looked at his watch in a manner he hoped was not too flustered. "Drat, I am late. Thanks, Elizabeth. See you tomorrow."
    "No problemo." She was making for the door. "I'm going for a swim – I'm boiled. I thought churches were meant to be cool. Don't forget about the museum woman, Tom. She's coming at eleven. See you tomorrow. Goodbye, Mr Cleever."
    Tom watched the door shut behind her, then looked at his watch again. He had to move. Then he realised that Mr Cleever was looking at him quite closely.
    "Pleasant young woman," Mr Cleever remarked. "Now, Reverend, who are these people from the museum? They're not going to threaten our claim, are they?"
    "I shouldn't think so, Mr Cleever. There's little doubt it's a religious artefact, found on church land."
    "There's always doubt when museum authorities get involved, take it from me. You'll have to watch them, or they'll whip