Doctor Who: Space War by Malcolm Hulke

didn’t.’ The Doctor glanced towards the television eye, sure that once they were in flight the Master would be making his first visual check of the two prisoners.
    Jo said, ‘Do you think he’s watching? You said that once we were under way—’
    The Doctor herrurmphed loudly, pretending to clear his throat. ‘So I said to the High Council of the Time Lords, they had no right to put me on trial to begin with—’
    Jo stared at him. ‘Doctor, what are you talking about?’
    He moved so that he was standing with his back to the iron bars, his face well in view of the television eye. ‘“If I choose to spend my time wandering round the Universe,” I told them, “that’s my business.”’
    Now Jo understood. The Doctor was using the string file on one of the bars behind his back; his body masked what his hands were doing from the television eye.
    She spoke up, in case the Master was listening. ‘What happened then?’
    ‘My fellow Time Lords found me guilty of meddling in the affairs of other species, changed my appearance and exiled me to Earth. That’s when I met you.’
    The Master’s voice came over a hidden loudspeaker. ‘Doctor, do you really have to bore Miss Grant with your reminiscences?’
    The Doctor glared towards the television eye. ‘I think it most improper of you to eavesdrop on our conversation.’
    ‘So do I,’ said Jo, loudly. ‘Kindly stop listening to us.’
    They heard the Master chuckle. ‘Just as you please, Miss Grant.’
    ‘Where was I?’ said the Doctor, his hands still working feverishly behind his back.
    ‘Being exiled to planet Earth,’ said Jo. ‘I’m fascinated by your story.’
    With no further interruptions from the. Master, the two prisoners continued their mock conversation, in the hope that the Master would not notice what the Doctor was really doing. While the Doctor continued to work the string file round one of the bars of the cage, Jo busied herself ripping open the mattress on one of the bunks. To keep the conversation going the Doctor talked about his special attachment to the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce and his feelings about UNIT’s British Commander, Brigadier Lethbridge Stewart. ‘I soon realised that the trouble with him was that he’d got a military mind.’
    ‘Hardly surprising,’ said Jo, ‘since he’s a military man.’
    ‘That’s just the trouble. Hide-bound, you see. He always wants to do everything by the rules. He doesn’t realise there are times when you simply have to cut through the red tape.’ The Doctor could feel that he had taken the string file right through the bar behind him.
    ‘And you’ve managed to cut through?’ asked Jo, not sure whether she had understood the Doctor’s secret message.
    ‘Yes,’ he replied, working the string file into another position. ‘But you have to cut through not only at the bottom, but also at the top.’
    They continued this masquerade for another ten minutes, then the Doctor said, ‘Well, I’m tired. It’s time I got some rest.’
    ‘You can rest at a time like this?’ asked Jo.
    ‘Why not? There’s no point standing around when I can lie down.’ In a whisper the Doctor added, ‘Just let’s hope he isn’t watching now!’
    The Doctor turned round, lifted aside the severed bar, then wriggled through the gap. Jo took the bar from him.
    ‘Your jacket!’ she whispered urgently.
    ‘Sorry, almost forgot.’ Outside the cage, the Doctor quickly shrugged off his long jacket and shoved it through the bars to Jo. ‘See you—I hope.’ He disappeared down the ship’s main corridor.
    Jo first wedged the bar back into position, using bits of torn cloth from the mattress to hold it in place. Then she pulled the stuffing from the mattress and pushed it down one of the sleeves of the Doctor’s jacket.
    The Master was absorbed in a treasured copy of H. G. Wells’s War of the Worlds . Before turning the page of his book, he glanced up at the television monitor screen that