'Are we free to return to London now, Inspector?' There was an eagerness in Liz's voice.
'Most certainly you are,' Harborne smiled. 'Now that the inquest on your uncle's death, and those other unfortunate people who were killed when the beast went on the rampage, is over, there is nothing further to detain you here. As they walked out into the street where the Land Rover was parked at the kerbside, stacked with all the equipment which they had brought with them, Liz heaved an audible sigh of relief.
'Oh to be in London,' she murmured. 'We won't ever have to come back here will we Gavin?'
'Unless you fancy the Wash for a honeymoon!' he joked and she punched him playfully. 'I don't ever want to set foot on the beastly place again,' she said. 'Not even to look for old King John's treasure. It can stay where it is forever as far as Fm concerned.'
'It probably will.' he replied. 'They say it brings ill-fortune to those who seek it. It certainly has this time. Too many people have died as an indirect cause of our excavations.'
'D'you think the world's seen the last of the Slime Beast?' she asked. 'I mean, wherever it came from, d'you think they're likely to send any more?'
'If they do,' and his face held a serious expression, 'then I pray to God we're not around. I only hope, if a race of them exists on some planet somewhere, that they've decided that Earth isn't the place for them after all!' He opened the passenger door for her to climb in. Suddenly a wild clamouring sound filled the air, a sound of musical honking, gaggling.
Sedately, in a perfect 'V formation, the skein of wild geese passed over the village and began to lose height as they approached the mud-flats. This was their domain. The marshes of the Wash.