Inspector Cutler's casebook

by Thomas Leathan-drum 2015

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Introduction…

What we know about Inspector Cutler — he was once a constable in the town of Picton ... five years we are to understand.         When one day; Inspector Poleman — of some eight years ... just got up and left.        Three weeks to the day constable Cutler — became Inspector.      He never looked back.

Not that a lot happens in the county of Graymarsh.       Cutler is now in his thirties, single and lives alone.         He has had a number of female friends — unfortunately his work life becomes between his personal.          Cutler is not a great scholar, but has a mind to figure things out — which made him the best suited for the job.

So, should I add — he his of average height and build ... short cut hair, moustache and beard — wears a top hat and a long jacket — wears a well cut suit — black gloves and carries a sergeant majors batten.             

 Page :             Stories: 

03:   Investigates — the theft and murder of Mr     Moncrieff.

31:    The beaded face man — with a scar.

49:    Finds — Mr Noggs.

67:  Investigates ... the missing knife throwers     daughter.

99:    The case of missing master piece.

101:  The case of the missing blacksmith girl.

 103:  The case of the missing digit.

105:  Seeks - Lady Mary Wellesley.

121: Learns about the death of Claudine        Sayers.

Inspector Cutler.

Investigates — the theft and murder of Mr Moncrieff.

Chapter 1

The gent who owns the night cart — discovers the body.

 Let me describe this man who belongs to this body.    He must have only slightly tilted his head to enter through the door of his stone cottage — a common cottage — those with low exposed oak beams; sawn by hand and dragged by oxen from where they fell .... then placed upon sturdy walls by those who are to take up residence.      So he is not a short man, nor a rich man — possibly lives in a cottage on an estate ... all signs point to a man of labour.    With his hat removed (a cap of patterned cloth,) reveals hair of a brown shade and chopped close to his skeleton — he sports a small moustache of a lighter colour, and sideburns of similar consistency.       His skin is neither fair or dark (you could say it is of olive complexion.)     He could be of an age closer to forty years, than to thirty; I can mention here he has puffy cheeks and thick lips — owns a long flat nose, with two large green eyes — bridged by think black eyebrows (unlike his hair,) and has a solid chisel shaped chin — protruding over a long neck.    I cannot record this man — as handsome.      His shirt is of a checked pattern and made from wool — it is of "Sherwood Green," in colour — with leather covered buttons; plus braces crossing (clipped — from front to back,) supporting sensible trousers; that come to rest on leathered walking boots (the boots have been well attended to.)      His coat of full length is of good tailoring; it would have given the owner warmth and an appearance of some small wealth; the coat covers a body of substance and of good weight.      So he is a strong man, a working man, a well built man —  all signs point to these clothes being his business best.       

A search of his pockets should allow what can be established of his identification — yet provides nothing ... for the pockets are empty of personal belongings.       I remove his arms from the coat, — turning it inside outside — looking for a clue to its maker.        There stitched (on a silk label) is the answer to my question.

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   Mr Stone; you hold records of the gentleman who purchased this coat with your name — printed on this label.       Metal draws slide in and out till the information requested is obtained — exchange for a coin ... I make my way to the address provided.     I knock three times and repeat twice more before the door opens — ever so slightly.       The women with her hand stopping the door from opening more, is in her later years of life — her cloths suggest she has (at sometime had more then she does now.)      The reason for visit sir — she enquires.    I ask for the room number of the owner to the coat.      With the reluctance to my entry — overcome by donation of a small coin ... I'm directed to that room — being on the second floor and is to the left of the stairs.      Where a door is open another is closed — those that are closed are occupied, and those that are open ... stands a scantily dressed woman — wishing the door was closed.        The windows from the hall that view out to the street - some are open and some are closed ... each window — for the same reason, as the doors that are open ... wish they were closed.        Where door is closed, the hallway is blocked and nearly impassable, by an assortment of children of many ages and sizes — from babies, that should be in the arms of their mother's ... to almost full-grown children; that should be in the clutches of their teachers.

The door to the room I have come to inspect — is open ... it is furnished with simple yet practicable furniture — none; I'm sure none belonging to the logger.     There is a wash stand and oval mirror in a plan timber frame; an earthenware jug and basin (the water it holds is cold and not fit for drinking,) nor washing.       There is a towel hanging on a brass hock — on the wash stand, a hair brush and comb.      There is a single bed with springs and mattress (no  sheets,) only a blanket — the pillow is on the chair (in front of the window.)       The bottom sash is raised a portion — no more than a whisker; yet a strong draft conquers the rooms stillness.       I sit on the bed.  No more information presents itself ... relating to this man.

Chapter 2

The corpse that of Mr Moncrieff — for he was the owner of the coat.

The body is on the slab with all clothing removed — surrounded and under close scrutiny by students of anatomies; picking and prodding with fingers and medical instruments. 

Cause of death.      Blows to the back of the head by a very large object —     causing the scull to split — death may have come slowly, and with great pain; was the motive robbery?        

Records have be made to the means of Mr Moncrieff and his position in life — not a rich man, but a man of labour, a strong man, a working man; so how could such a man be overcome by another — and what (did posses,) to be relieved of? … and (did he/she, they) relive him of it?

Has he a family waiting for his return; has he an employer seeking enquires of his whereabouts — on what purpose has he left either his place of residence or employment this day; and for what reason has he travelled to his place of death?    

The answers came (I thought,) to these questions the following day, when a request was received by a young women.   She came to report the disappearance of her father.         Her father she told the constable was never late in returning from his employment ... for he knew she would be waiting for him (alone,) as she had done since her mother was taken ill and past on just six months before — and after the last summers day spent all together picnicking; by the stream that runs gently through the park they favoured; and where she and her mother (before her death,) spent time.      I spent time with this sad young women — aged she told me of seventeen years and six months (as she believed it was.)     Her head, when standing aside of me reaches my shoulders — she is of slender build with fair clean skin; no sign of sickness or ageing ... nothing casting any imperfections.       Her long well combed (a mixture of dark and light) hair flows gracefully over her shoulders — imaging the curvature of the back; coming to rest upon the small structure of her waist.       As she now sat waiting; I study the description of her father ... comparing each feature against the other; it becomes clear he is not the man   —  I have described earlier. 

Chapter 3

In the room on the second floor, and left of the stairs.

The cool draft from the slightly opened window is now a cold wind; the light it once brought in has been extinguished by the darkening sky.      Time is the enemy to all enquires ... I have spent the best part of the day demanding answers from this empty room — no answers have been provided by the items that have filled my concentration.       

So if this is the room from which Mr Moncrieff left this morning — or the morning before ... he did so on his own accord; for there are no signs of struggle.       As record earlier he is a man of the land, so why was this address provide to the tailor?        The oak wardrobe door with the tarnished mirror (caused from the damp air,) once opened ... only proves no other clothing is stored in the room.     My attention is drawn to the door for a shadow has broken the light that once trickled through it; a voice questioning of my being in this room, came before the figure - figure is that of a women; a large boned women, of various curves and many rounded portions, and about half a head taller than she who I was meet at the door by.     She is wearing a thin white dyed cotton night-jacket over a long night-dress (also white,) neither — disguising the symmetry of her figure as I described earlier.    Her  hair — released and flowing ... unhindered as it would have been during the day.     Standing in front (even in bare feet,) looking down upon me; as she is also that head taller than me — her dirty (once white,) now, yellow handkerchief (in command of her breasts,) controlling my vision.       It takes me more than the split second to find words, than the two split seconds it takes to lift my head.    Her eyes pierce my thoughts — their light blue shade doing nothing to soften the enquiry behind them.       For a women of her size (perplexed,) by the speed in which she moves from the door — where she once stood (occupying the door way with her body,) to now where she is standing (that head taller,) and those well rounded breasts (both of them,) holding me pressed (against them,) and the opposite wall.    Voices do not always match the sound (we imagine,) that they should when they come from a voice box belong to a body of a particular size — a deep rich baritone ... I had in mind; yet when this women spoke (more like a scream,) was a squeaky high pitched and irritating ramble of indescribable and badly pronounced dribble.

 So noted.   Moncrieff was here until late the night before last. Mrs Roman (her name advised,) confirms this to be true — as she and he shared ale and bread.     (Without in any detail, reason for being in these lodgings.)     She returned to her room once he left ... the (Dutch) time-peace in the hall had announced eleven-thirty; Mrs Roman confirms this to be true.   (Without going into detail, for him leaving the lodgings.)   Records show his body was found in Warehouse Lane - two days since that night — by the night-cart owner.

Chapter 4

Husband, wife and father

Dan Moncrieff; farm manager of twenty-years to the Brent-bridge estate, and husband of seventeen years to Mary; and father to Mathew and David.       Held in great esteem and respect —  admired by all those who come and go in the same circles ... and by those when their paths crossed.        So it was with great surprise Dan Moncrieff — even to himself .... that resentment against another, a rival for one he loves, even if only a thought~a thought in his head — with no proof to go to the one he feels to protect, and protest against their imaginary behaviour — envy of  a person enjoying success in deeds and taking advantage of ones standing in society — jealousy of the another's success or just the advantage of success itself.      What mental uneasiness from suspicion or fear of rivalry; unfaithfulness, as in the arms of his love ... and the sons who look upon the other as a hero.      Dear, dear Dan Moncrieff how difficult it had become to be so vigilance and to maintain as a guard over those you love.           This is not how an Estate Manager with some standing within the circle he rotates and those who have for the years he has been their leader, husband and father — to behave.    

But these were not the normal thoughts of Dan Moncrieff yet they have been his companion since the new young Master returned from (the East,) bring to all that see him (on a regular bases) gifts; for just spending time in and round his presence ... gifts for the old and young, married and single women ... anyone attending to his every need or want.

~~~~

When the occasion presented itself — that eleven o'clock on that wet night ... and having been told to collect his Mary -  at that precise time — from the kitchens of the Master's house; he was there and waiting~waiting one hour longer than the time given.       The dinner upstairs to celebrate the return of young Master was still in full swing, with little sign of ending (Dan thought,) before dawn.       

So for no reason that can be brought to mind; why, at this precise time — his feeling of discontent (Envy,) or (Covetousness,) with regard to another's advantages, success, and possessions ... did he find himself with no fear or guilt; lift from the mantel — the silverware.       It was once at home (without his wife Mary) as we know still attending to the young Master.      (His two sons nowhere to be found.)           It was now he sees his life as he has known it — in a new light.    Why should he attend to others with greater wealth than he — now, that he has wealth of this own (even if he had just stolen his new wealth?)

~~~~         

So it was with great surprise the morning Dan Moncrieff did not appear at the time, nor the place (as on those other days before this day ... his sons had risen from their beds and made their way,) to where he was expected to be at that time of the morning — leaving those that were required to be there before him (to receive the familiar instructions,) all known by heart, but never did miss hearing them again each morning — listening as if they were hearing them for the first time. 

~~~~

Mary waited seven days — seven long lonely troubling days;  before dusk and before dawn ... she stood standing at the door of her cottage ... with wet wondering eyes … either straining in the dark or squinting in the light for her husbands return.       Her son's taking different paths each other day in many directions — far and near, making inquires of those meet on their journeys.         Those seven days brought no return of Dan Moncrieff — nothing that they did could find him; no stone (as is often stated,) was left unturned — no door was left unopened — no question was left unanswered.         So it was reported.         The missing of Dan Moncrieff.

~~~~

The trip by coach from Brent-bridge to Graymarsh — then to the tailor (to purchase that coat,) then to the room on the second floor ... to spend time with Mrs Roman; to stay that period of time, before leaving — and then to be found dead in Warehouse Lane (by the owner of the night cart,) if by coach he travelled? — if by coach he did ... would take those seven days.     Enquires were made to confirm if this was the case and the method of travel. 

Chapter 5

Ground has been covered.

The two files lay open — each of a missing man.      One with a body found ... the other of a father yet to be found.       The young women sitting within my eye sight and touch — I could reach out and feel the softness of her skin;  I could run my hand through her hair ... flowing gracefully over her shoulders (yet today with a silk bow in management of it.)  Cupped between her little hands a mug of tea giving comfort and warmth — our eyes meet on many occasions — our conversation drifts between the search for her father and anything that can keep us sitting here in each other's company — neither wishing to the first to part.

In regard to the search for her father (sadly no further sightings,) with regard to our growing friendship — more ground has been covered.

Chapter 6

Mr Moncrieff

The lapel of this coat is not as threadbare, as many a coat that accompanies its owner — as he sits .... in tight quarters with his fellow travellers; each, deep in thought; either of the place that they have left or of the place they now, venture towards.    Mr Moncrieff (as we know him now — while at this point, his name is unknown to us) has his mind set on the reason for being confined within the walls of this coach.  The view from the coaches glass-less windows — are of both bare grass lands to one eye and tree cover mountains to the other.    A gentleman of age has given into the temptation of sleep, and has his head to the left of his shoulders and then has the same head to his right ... as and when a corner controls it — and at present there are many corners.

The coach left Brent-bridge, finding its way to Dickwella — some short distance North; where Dan Moncrieff boarded — having walked there to avoid any inquisitive or prying eyes upon his person — for he hoped not to be acknowledged or recognised ... by those who may know of him.     

The light of day was taking the dark of night further away with every hour that passed, and the distance from Brent-bridge to   Graymarsh diminishing within those seven days ... seven days when seen boarding the coach at Dickwella and when found dead by the owner of the night cart in Warehouse Lane.       

The coach that left Brent-bridge carried a variety of companions; and by and by ... a new traveller replaced one that had spoken of interesting topics — with one that spoke very little; and further on; a traveller who found fault on any subject brought forth by another.  One such traveller — boarded at “Tillswater,” soon became popular with Dan Moncrieff, more than — the others ... her hair had a red tinge and flowed down and across one shoulder; a blue scarf, she wore without restraint-around her long neck.       Taking the vacant set to the left of Dan Moncrieff and the window — where once sat the gentleman dressed in uniform.      She sat within her own mind ... glancing on occasions in directions both out and in; to study both her fellow travellers and the country passing by day.  Nights were spent within accommodations of various  locations. 

Dan Moncrieff did not travel far, the day after the last night of rest ... the coach stopped at "Doubly" — when he spent the day in business.      Business was settled once the cloth bag (that never left his side) with its contents of silver — exchanged for  paper of the King.      It was nearly dark, the following day when he found a seat on the second coach.

When he woke that morning — he tried to recollect his destination ... which had been all connected with his recent departure from Brent-bridge — from his family (wife and sons) and his employers property.        The fifth and sixth days, as they had followed the third and forth days, were spent travelling to Graymarsh — with companions of both sex and some who were of interest and others boring ... some with the appearance of great wealth, some with limited wealth, and few (travellers,) on one day and off the same day — with only a short distanced travelled.       

When one has a large sum of wealth in his coat, and in confinement of a coach travelling far from ones home and family ... one can become loose tongued — when sitting between a view of the ocean and a women with long hair with a red tinge.

Chapter 7

So this case is closed.

He sat up, rubbed his eyes and stared — the sign before his eyes  read  Graymarsh.       The coach came to a stop, he help the women to the ground ... she thanked him.     A heavy fall of snow fell without warning — he did not notice his silent companion.      He lay, that night, at an Inn — where beds were let at a cheap rate to the more humble class of travellers; and a higher rate to those with the look of wealth.         So it is recorded.      Mr Moncrieff purchased a new coat, stayed the night at the loggings (I visited;) he spent time with the tall women in the room — on the second floor ... then left — only to be found dead; by the owner of the night cart — in Warehouse Lane.

~~~~

So this case is closed.    It was one of theft and murder ... an employee steeling from his employer ... of a man who had worked all his life to support his family ... a man freeing himself from the confines of responsibility — only to offer up his secret to a women of the night; who then led him to spill his wealth to many a greedy individual … then led him to his death.

His death came late that night, having spent time in the room on the second floor with the tall women.        I have added a note to the file.       One who is not accustomed to wealth and freedom from work or from a wife ... not one who knows more of the workings on an estate, and of livestock, and mending of fences — yet nothing of the outside world; or that the grass over the boundary hedge may look sweeter than his own ... should not travel (in confinement of a coach,) with silver in a cloth haversack and be of loose tongued — while sitting between a view of the ocean and a women with long hair with a red tinge.      Nor should he allow himself the honour of her pleasant company and kind enquiring words of his destination and purpose of travel ... revealing all can bring trouble.        He left the room (on the second floor,) having taken part in more than conversation and was followed by two men — one being the husband of the tall women and the other the brother of the women with the long hair with a red tinge.   Once our Mr Moncrieff was a safe distance apart from the lodgings and his  destination (unknown by his attackers,) but in the direction of — shall we say town;  and once in Warehouse Lane ... he was struck dead

~~~~

The disappearance of the young woman's father is another story.   One which will occupy my mind ... another day.       But it goes without many words that~that she and I will share many a enquiry into his failure to come home to this delightful — extractive — entertaining — funny intelligent — beautiful — this stunning creature.

The End.

Inspector Cutler..

The beaded face man — with a scar.

Chapter 1

It was a cold, dry, foggy morning.

The covered wagon — merging with the background, allowing the shadows to flitter to and fro with the slight breeze.    In the dark misty streets — seen occasionally, through the dull vapour, a heavy outline of some night travellers, wending homewards (some sober others intoxicated,) none in either state ... took notice of the covered wagon — with its wheels stationary; nor the two men — dressed in black coats and caps — encouraging calmness and composure with their charges.          Stillness of the night and the mist and the fog ... can confuse even the most experienced constable — walking his patch; pacing slowly up and down — cursing the indifference of hours that intervene between him and his sleep.       He too looked in another direction, for the sound travelled, muffled to him through the heavy mist and thick fog anomalous. 

~~~~

The list of the missing goods from the East West Shipping Company lay on top of a pile of paper work that greeted me — that Monday morning.         A quick glance of the goods stolen interacted a gang of at least  four.         An eye witness (later) confirmed my suspicions.     Yes, the mist and fog was very think that night (he said,) however he was close enough to see — yet far enough away not to be seen; a four wheeled covered wagon drawn by four horses (he saw,) parked before the dock of the East West Shipping Company.        The report showed (the witness advised the constable,) one person of small build, in a coat a size to large for his frame — at the reigns of the leading horses (the horses stationary at this time.)        He contained his urge for departure a little time longer — although the he had other important duties to perform (he was sure about that,) however his curiosity held him fast.         The witness suggested that he saw no less than four men at anyone time in the period he stood watching.

A note: the fifth person (by the name (Mobbs,) given to him, by his mother, and when turning seven ... consigned to the pits of hell,) it was he; holding the horses — in the coat one size to large.      

(He said,) one man held a lantern (giving only a small up turned glow,) outlining a beaded face with (yes; a scar, running from his left eye to his chin.)Chapter 2

Be that the case or not.

That night before this Monday, I spent with good food, wine and in the company of a young woman of only seventeen years and six months — who had reported the disappearance of her father ... the father (she told,) the constable was never late in returning from his employment ... for he knew she would be waiting for him (alone,) as she had done since her mother was taken ill and past on just six months before — the same woman of slender build with fair clean skin; her long hair well combed (a mixture of dark and light,) flowing gracefully over her shoulders.        It will take little knowledge (from those without investigation insight,) to come to the concussion, I have a liking towards this young women — and the suspicious among you will be giving thought, that I am with holding my efforts in locating her father, as a ruse to seduce her.        Be that the case or not.       Reading the ledger of goods taken (brought forth the morning after — by the warehouse manager,) once made aware of the activities (clears my mind of such thoughts.)           As reported by our witness ... on the night of the brake-in; if a brake-in it was, a covered wagon and several men (he said,) concealed by shadows — like ghosts lost to the past ... now with new interest in life; moving to and fro — one rolling a timber casket, from out of the dark and into the wagon ... another casing a taller shadow — for a box or carton placed on  his back.        To a night traveller (on that night of mist and vapour,) he could be mistaken for the Hunchback of Notre-Dame.          Let the record show (on my inspection,) there was no sign of a brake-in ... the door was still intact, no window ajar, or glass broken — to me it was looking like an inside job.Chapter 3

The Syndicate.

They were not Knights of King Arthur's Round Table, or Universal Solders of war ... or New World Revolutionaries — plotting to overturn the King and his Parliament — but four  scoundrels (villains,) with dishonourable intentions — bent on a life of crime; to relieve those with much  — and like (Robyn Hood;) give to those with less ... that is how they saw themselves as they cradled their ale, sitting as they did (close to the open fire,) on many a cold dark night, in the Waterhole Tavern —  if ever the truth was told there by either of the four ... on anyone night in particular was relentless, only on satisfying their own greed — are their minds set upon — together thieving others riches. 

~~~~

If one had approached the taller man with the name of Maxbohm — a decade earlier than this moment in time ... his military uniform (would if you could imagine it,) still be of its splendid scarlet red, with shiny gold buttons and white belt and buckles, and pistols complete — with a fighting  short broad-sword — with a silver basket hilt.      But that was then ... now showing no indication of being a military man or a man of wealth — encountering him now you are sure his better days have passed.          His un-kept hair, long, hanging in pigtails, dirty and at random lengths — un-shaven hair across his face ... there I would suspect to cover a sinister motive and a mouth —  missing many a chewing tooth.      To his left, sitting (hunched a little forward — for he is a little hard of hearing, and his arms a little short of reaching his pewter tankard ale,) is a partner in crime — answering to the name of Magley~Magley is quite large form — from any angle his is approached from ... a body supporting the proportionate sized head (with very black hair,) which is shaved to a whisker of his crown; nothing covering the amber coloured nose, the one good seeing eye or the slot of one missing; the very full under-lip which would move (slightly on an angle,) when he spoke (in a hoarse like voice,) and very loud — as if always shouting to be heard.      Migsby (the third member,) returns from his time at cards — drawing a chair near the fire, fell into conversation with the others.       Although, from afar ... one would have the impression he was the lest important of the group; yet was in fact the most important — and was very talkative, and held most — if not all, the conversation; perhaps for he spoke in a whisper, demanding the others to lean forward in their seats to hear him, making him the centre of attention for that reason only ... or maybe because of the quantity of spirits and ale he sipped while playing cards.        Now to business.       (He sniffed in large quantities of snuff — from a brown paper bag,) from his waistcoat pocket — he laid open the hand drawn plans of the East West Shipping Company building.          They all spent some length upon the merits of his plan, and the acquirements of his job; it was an hour later that Markby (the forth member arrived — no explanation on way he was late, was provide.)        With the aid of further filling of the pewter tankards — the plans once again were discussed.Chapter 4

For the plan was discussed once more and actioned upon

In my own hand, I make a note ... the young women's name is Kate; and I must acknowledge —  she has made myself aware of her father's name — John Noggs; a-through lips (those my eyes find difficult to see past,) more of his movements before his disappearance ... fill the lines of my pad.         He is a man with a pretty (although such a word should not be used to describe a mans nose, Kate added,) a handsome / striking nose, slightly turned-up nose (a more fitting description (she continued;) he has large mouth (this I can see, she has inherited — and benefits her splendidly.)       She continues .... he has a broad face, and two large (cobalt blue eyes.)           Enough!       Torn between my duty, and the pleasure her added acquaintance brings to my thoughts — if a weaker man were I (to quote (from whom, I do not recall,) no further time would be spent on finding her father's were about(s) nor would I had left her company this day, to apply my skills to the items reported missing.

~~~~~

However it must be the case — for the plan was discussed once more and actioned upon ... young  Mobbs (his job to have the horses stand in silence — a job he carried out to perfection,) did disappear (as if he was a magician's assistant) when stood between the lead horses ... and offered no assistance to the witness — who was looking in his direction; for the mist and fog was very think that night (this was told to the constable,) yet he was close enough to see — a figure; stationary and a four wheeled covered wagon — parked before the dock of the East West Shipping Company.       

It is recorded the wagon took its time upon the road — possibly in consequence of the state in which the travellers found themselves that morning ... after a fill night of consumption of cheep ale and port-wine, supplied by the tavern owner in an effort to free loose tongues.     However, he secured no information, and sent them packing.       A little girl in a dirty white frock — no longer than to her knees, then at seconds thoughts added short trousers to her outfit, sandal like shoes, white bonnet, with green veil and pink flowers; who turned from the lane outside the tavern in good time ... so as not to be run down — bounded forward to within only feet of the wagon.         Markby (he that was last to arrive,) sat with the reigns in hand — to his left, Migsby, with his blue trousers in contrast with his green great-coat, there for all to see ... and on  his person he carried an ash walking-stick (more for show than use — the others thought,) yet he flourished it about ... when coming to a corner he thought they should take.    Magley and Maxbohm sat uncomfortably behind on the boards of the wagon ... more uncomfortably than them — was young Mobbs; for he had to master the horses and with lantern in hand (for a good distance,) stumble along in front.

~~~~~Chapter 5

The Trial 

Evidence was given.         Josh Saddleback stayed hid ... his only company for those four hours — two rodents — who saw him every half hour; and the night watchman, who did not see him every other half hour.          The Q to leave his hiding place, came from the light of a lantern  — through the planks of the timber door (he told the court,) he insisted this was his total involvement, and was paid a small sum — to do so, and a further small sum — to keep silent once completed.          When asked if the man, or men — were in the court, they who paid him those small sums; he pointed to the four ... individually.           Mobbs, stood (without his over size coat, and his hands to his back,) looking neither towards the Judge, nor towards his fellow accused.       Next to voice his opinion  - Mr Vincent ... bent forward to pronounce his every last word with greater emphasis; and having done so, stood straight once — then frowned and then repeated again all that he had said — without being asked to do so ... and then nodded, and bent forward as before to start~from the start his evidence - and would had done so, if it were not for the judge raising his hand to silence him (as it did.)         It was he, who witness ... through the mist and fog that night, the wagon outside the East West Shipping Companies open door, and the small figure ... (Mobbs) a front the horses, and the men (rolling timber caskets,) to and fro.         The court was told.       They took to Drury Lane - the road that Nicholas Nickleby and Mr Lillyvick (the collector of water-rates,) so took ... to reach the home of Miss Petowker.         There they found Miss Petowker, still in her bed; and had to wait until she rose from it.         Although the four men and one young boy (the court was told,) took to travelling on Drury Lane — their destination was not that of Miss Petowker ... but that of the East West Shipping Company; which they reached after dark — and almost passed by for the mist and fog was so think.        Had it not been for the young eyes of the young boy (in front, leading the horses,) seeing the iron gates of the premises, and then to gain a better sighting ... swung the lantern (more to and fro, than in a circle,) however Josh Saddleback — took this as his Q to open the door.          The accused men stood, side-by-side — chained as one .... Maxbohm, looking in one direction.       Migsby and  Markby in another.          Magley (with red blood-shot eyes,) piercing through the head of young Mobbs — and far out to sea.          For if not for the greed of those with less than those of more ... although those with plenty, at times wish for more, larger, brighter — two of one thing over only one of the same thing; would be far from in this court .... if he and his fellow companions had only continued with his well planed out operation to lift only the four caskets of cheep ale and port-wine .... than the eight that they did — causing (once on the road again,) a spoke of a wheel to brake — causing the end result to be their capture.

The End.

Inspector Cutler...

Finds — Mr Noggs. Chapter 1

Mr Hoggs.

He wore a checked shirt (more blue squares than green, with the occasional brown square ... where there was no blue,) an old green coat with worn leather buttons, a neckerchief of broad red and yellow stripes (nothing did match in his selection of clothing today,) and well worn brown trousers (with a patch to the knee of his left leg,) he carried a long stick (only ever so bent,) he used this as a walking-stick, or just something to clear a path from time to time.

I have a fine image of this man — on paper and in mind ... yet a finer image of his daughter.         I can see her radiating forth (in shop windows,) with all her beauty as she embraces my hand in pleasure, while walking out, in her finest of summer dresses.        She is a women with a pretty (although such a word is not enough to describe a women's nose,) the most exquisite nose — more striking (if only slightly turned-up nose ... could be, or should be, found on a face of any description.        Her  large mouth (more fitting on her, than her father, she inherited,) does benefit her splendidly.        In contrast ... her face is little less rounded, and a little longer, and with two not so large — however so slightly lighter, Colbert blue eyes.Chapter 2

We return home.

We stood as close (as customs of the day, and society — feels comfortable with,) on one of those last summers days, when she had spent — together picnicking; by the stream that runs gently through the park ... that she and her mother favoured; and where she and her mother (before her death,) spent many happy times.           It was her wish to return home; maybe (allowing me into her thoughts,) her father had returned there, and was now distressed in his own mind for she was not waiting (as she did,) be waiting for him.          When arriving at the house — just as she had left it.                He was not.

~~~~

Let the records show.          Mr Snuffim, wearing a well tailored suit — of a previous owner; worn with grey knee high boots and in hand a cap of cloth ... informed — that he had spoken to Mr Hoggs - early the morning of that Monday.        When questioned further Mr Snuffim told all he watched Mr Hoggs boarded the train~the train heading north.       He had with him a tall, thin young boy — of no more than seven years, and one suitcase ... brown in colour.        They had not spoken, so no more information was provided by Mr Snuffim.        It was confirm such a trip was taken by Mr Hoggs and a tall, thin young boy, that day.  Chapter 3

The ticket was to Graymarsh.

Travelling by train — any tall, thin young boy, could not help but to enjoy ... a window seat, open at that — even better.         Jack (we will call this tall, thin young boy, by that name;) had never been on such an exciting trip; on any day of his eight years (we will give Jack, this tall and thin young boy — tall  for his age, an age of eight.)         When stood aside, his head almost to the shoulders of Mr Hoggs.       If together when first sighted in good light, the viewer could be well assured — they were father and son — for there were many similar features.        

As the inquisitive and the young so do ... all about one, everything is closely studied ... the number of lamp-posts, the number of buildings, the number of signs, the different types of flags ... be they red or green.         

No sooner had the two purchased their tickets, boarded the train (the third carriage was chosen,) had found suitable seats ... Jack, by the open window ... a high pitched whistle pierced through  thoughts — followed with a horn and white smoke steaming from the fired up engine, Jack found himself engulfed  in clouds of steam.          I'm sure Mr Hoggs, Jack's father, or not — would have suggested that the window should have been closed at this point of time ... and I'm sure Mr Hoggs, Jack's father, or not — would have laughed at the sight (a black and white sooty face,) of a young tall, thin young boy of eight.       

A distance travelled in a horse drawn coach, taking many days (and many nights,) confined in a small space ... next to fellow travellers; some, you would, on any other day cross the road to avoid — you could ask yourself why not take the train ... by taking the train that same distance travelled would be completed in hours, and if sleep was required; you would not require a night to accomplish the need.            Having said this ... such a trip in a horse drawn coach — be it the first (or second, or third time or .... time, such a journey for a young tall, thin boy would be all such a boy would wish to experience.         Chapter 4

A brother and a stepmother for Kate.

Nothing on this occasion, as with the many other occasions, when this trip was taken by Mr Hoggs Jack ... did any experience linger longer in either's mind than the time it took to arrive.                  But   let it be noted; the return train on this occasion was  not at the station — where Mr Hoggs and Jack stood waiting.

If you have kept notes as I have ... you will recall Kate came to report the disappearance of her father.         Her father who was never late in returning from his employment (as she had thought at that time,) for he knew she would be waiting for him (alone,) as she had done since her mother was taken ill and past on just six months before — and her memories spent together picnicking by the stream — that runs gently through the park they favoured; and where she and her mother (before her death,) spent time.             Now

Kate is to learn the other side of love between her father and mother .... you ask to yourself, did their love cease just six months before?          How could that be the case, for we have just read her father and a boy of eight have taken on many regular occasions (in fact we should make the word — occasions — redundant,) un-known to Kate and her mother ... this pilgrimage — not for employment but to another life and love and family.          Again we have more questions than answers; why on this occasion (O! That word again,) why did Mr Hoggs have Jack in his care that day leaving — to return to Graymarsh (my notes record as the home of his second family,) why had he brought Jack to (?) as we know the home of Kate and her mother (the home of his first family.)        You were to ask a neighbour, one with many years spent on this earth; he or she ... she I'm sure will look upon his reasons as sinister; reading more into his motives than he had placed before her to see~seeing only injury, and hurtful wrongs ... afflicted on a sick women and a mother.

He thinking the man who has ploughed years of his energy into work and family ... reaping little reward for his time and effort, working for owner and master of many acres, only to return home to one he loves less each day .... and then on a bright and sunny day spent in enriching his tired mind — reached by a train journey, finds a women free from any responsibilities - younger than the mother of his child — with time to shower love on him as a man, to love the way he see his world ... to pander kisses, covering his aching bones in herbal scents, listening to his words of complaints, never questioning his motive to travel this distance on a regular bases.           Let the record show.      This new world of Mr Hoggs began fourteen years from (after,) the birth of Kate and nine years prior (before,) the birth of Jack.

All that now said and recorded.         Let us return to why the young lady I meet — that day after reporting her father missing ... he having not returned home as was his custom to do so at the time most likely to arrive home.           A feeling of warmth between us has blossomed, for my part -  I did delay my efforts towards the location of him ... but as a respected notoriety of the police force; did place a notice for the discovery of his whereabouts. Chapter 5

The Reunion.

When one has lost a mother (one so young as eight-teen,) and then un-known to that person, a father ... who has all the love and respect of that one person; finds that father has a need to love others and he has a son and now his daughter has a brother~a brother this one of eight-teen could have loved ... for all those years, passed without knowledge.

~~~~

Time it is said — is a great healer and can provide relief to all that from time to time have and do wish — that time would travel faster ...  an egg timer carries sufficient sand to boil an egg, but will not measure the passing of six months .... a spring wound (tight,) taught, will not bring-forward the arrival of midday, nor pacing to and fro; with thoughts of regret, quicken departure.         Torn is an average man of the land — found wanting in spiritual and business beliefs; ageing in years with dreams of achievements and desires of grandeur ... is this our Mr Hoggs who now has to return to a singular world. 

To recap.         Recorded on file, and fresh in my mind.            Kate Hoggs; returns  home to find her father absent ... something that was an unusual occurrence.        This, did that day stirred his daughter to report his disappearance.         Time (that,) few can control — brought the young eighteen year old women into my domain ... reasons as to how our stars crossed are thin and far between and when given thought — make little understanding.           (Her father,) Mr Hoggs  loved two women, in the short time on earth (as life was short — in these times,) worked all the hours provided to him by his employer and his faith in his God - providing for two families of similar pre-portions and demands upon him.              Only within the time for an egg to be boiled, and for the hands on a clock to move seconds .... Mr Hoggs is struck twice by a hammer of bad luck .... or is it his lord, punishing this man of the land, a simple man of this world, who loved two women within the short period of time (for time travels faster — when not watching hands move, or the sun pass~passing the moon and stars of greed and desire for flesh.)                        Let the record show.         Both women left Mr Hoggs ... both returning to their marker — leaving him with a son in one place, and a daughter in another.          Yes, it was reported by Mr Snuffim; that he did witness Mr Hoggs and a young tall, thin boy of no more than seven (you may recall, a boy of eight, answering to the name of Jack,) leaving by train.          However; his poor eyesight played mischief within his understanding.           In fact he saw Mr Hoggs and the boy arriving.          Confusing can be eyewitness who are of age and with poor eyesight ... seeing only what is going when they should be seeing only what is coming.

~~~~

Nothing in this world must stay as was written or sequels passed through generations by songs or stories —  told late at night by grandma, around the family table — only slightly changing each time told ... like a game of pass the parcel or pirate's whisper ... where what is told by one and travels across the room by others ending at another — but is not as it was at the beginning.         Things that are broken forever (can never be returned as one.) But things that are just torn apart, for a short period of time (can always be returned as one,) and this we will encounter with this new family.

~~~~

For my part, our eyes meet — tears join as we kiss, that one last time ... before Kate.      This young women who has been within my world, these many  (happy weeks,) removes her small soft hand from between my fingers.        There stood I (in love,) as if never to move again ... in sight of this young happy women — aged seventeen years and six months.         Watching as she crosses the road to rejoin her father and meet for the first time her brother~a brother with so much in common (and appearance,) from any distance.        I can see only her slender build — remembering her bright blue eyes, her clean young skin (showing no sign of sickness or ageing, or any imperfections.)     I can see her long well combed hair (a mixture of dark and light) flowing gracefully over her shoulders.   I can see as she skips away from my hold — gaining in speed to be re-in-nighted once more with a father she loves and a brother she will love in the years that will follow.       I catch a momentary view of her slender figure, moving within her dress, and a glimpse of a uncovered slender ankle — as like a dove flying to be feed ... there at her trough, inter-wound by loving wings, and pecks of affection (nothing; I could provide for this lost bird of paradise,) could or would or should win back the heart and sole of one of Gods little creatures ... put on this earth to test the courage of one Inspector Cutler.

The End

Inspector Cutler.

Investigates ... the missing knife throwers daughter.

Chapter 1

Miss Fisher.

It is 3am, the wind and the rain is coming from the direction where there is no shelter.     The wind is cold and the water wet.     Miss Fisher - as she is known to by her admires and fan-club — stands in her nakedness.     No amount of clothing applied upon her slender skeleton this morning will increase the size of her structure.      Those who know Miss Fisher (and many do,) often stand wittiness to her dressing, where all of her kind and many of male descent look upon her with admiration.        For she is the largest of all draw cards, more  patrons pay to see the most fearless high flyer of all women~a women that has never been seen in the town  of Bella-hills or any other place this century.    

It is 6am, no other would deny her the largest of all circus caravans — painted yellow with red and green lines to both sides; the most glorious of all caravans — pulled by two of the finest white horses~finest white horse ... anyone had seen today or yesterday and there proudly sat a front; Miss Fisher — next to the most important of all men ... Mr Bobster; owner and ring-master.       Yes, sat next to the owner and master of all employees.       

It is 10am, the sun this day is as high in the sky as are the entertainers low in spirit — for they are being led in convoy (of four  caravans, four wagons — carrying tents and equipment, plus two animal cages,) towards Graymarsh.

~~~~

Circus employees like Gypsies and Nomads a like ... at times dream and have desires to place roots into solid soil — to discard small abodes of accommodation and to cease endless travel.          How many of this troupe  .... of dances; clowns; actors; the knife thrower (and his daughter,) ... strongmen; a beaded women; horse riders; the bear trainer, and the fortune teller — if given the strength of character, a drive of will-power and the gumption to stand on their own legs, would adventure far from this life. Chapter 2

Graymarsh

'How may I help you young lady? The constable asks?'      'I wish to report my missing sister.' The young girl replies.    'When did you see her last?     The constable  reaches for his note pad and pencil.     'Three days from this day.'    The young girl informs.    'And where was she on that day~that day you saw her last?'   'Between here and Bella-hills.'     Was her reply?

Between licking the lead end of his pencil and twisting the other into his ear, the constable leans over the counter and asks.  'Can you describe this missing sister?

'She is one year older than me.'

'And what age are you?'    Ready to enter the result onto pad.

'I am unsure.' is her answer.    'She stands taller than me.' she adds.

'And what is your height?  

'I am not sure, but she stands one hand taller than me - and she has blond hair to match mine, and matching green eyes and we can share clothing — for we are very like in size.'    The young girl is breathless once all this has been disowned.

The constable slips into his boots ... steps from behind the counter with his measuring tape.   'So she is your height plus one hand?   He repeats her remarks.

'Yes.'

'Who's hand is used to measure the difference?     The question is asked. 

'Mine.'  Is her reply.

Noted: in pencil by the hand of the constable. In his best hand.      'So your sister is much your size in all respects; you saw her last, sometime within the last day or three ... and somewhere between here in Graymarsh and Bella-hills?

'Yes.'  The young girl confirms the information is correct; then volunteers her sister has a scar to the inside of her left thigh.

Recorded and filed.     Name of missing girl and that of the sister looking for her; plus address for further inquiries.Chapter 3

Bobster Circus.

The file is open on my desk, and has been for two days since the young girl gave her story.

Bobster Circus.     The bander hung at the entrance.       All are welcome.          Come and see the wonders of the world, reads the notice to the post, left of the gate.          There is a large tent to the centre of the hired field with several smaller, each with signs begging  one to enter and to spend a penny on one thing or another.           

It is 1.30pm, the grey elephant from Africa is still tethered to its post, resigned to the fact another show ... sometime soon will require him (I assume; it is a male,) to be matched in, to walk around in circles, led by Joe Brown  — the elephant keeper, trainer and carer of the beast~the beast will be required to stand one footed on a stool, while lifting the other and its truck as high as a leg and a truck can be lifted ... then to sit upon the stool, allowing Joe Brown to climb from the floor up over the back of the elephant arriving on to its head ... to the applause of the paying audience. 

I must advise the read that this is carried out within the large tent — and after skimpily dressed woman on white horses rid round and round cracking whips and throwing their hats into the air.        The dust and straw (from the centre ring,) is kicked freely by the hoofs ... into twists and clusters, and covers those lucky enough to have fought their way to the front, hoping for the better view.Chapter 4

The clowns and the strongman.

Some among you will be frighten of clowns ... and will be aware of the name given to such a fair (fortunately I'm not one.)    

I can write a thousand words and paint a hundred paintings about; and of any fortune-teller ... as we have all read and seen one flipping over tarot cards — reading into them more than you can understand or wish to believe; then have-in listened paid for the information one can do nothing with.       

Before I discuss the merits of being a clown, I will touch upon a little ...  fortune telling in Europe and the Americas include astromancy, horary (something about time,) astrology — Madam T skills seem best applied to reading of spirit boards and reading of tea leaves in a cup.   (Fortune telling with cards,) known as tarot reading — she has the reading of a crystal sphere, accomplished; and the reading of the palms, to a fine art.    The owner of the palms being read all a fluster — unable to to life an eye from her breast ... each rising and fulling on cue.

~~~~

A clown someone who my wash dishes in the morning showing little or no interaction of seeing or acting or saying anything remotely funny — Yet  once in a costume of many colours and one or two sizes to large and hair not their own, even a nose the colour of red, and rounder than any nose should be on any face ... can become funny?      To carry rabbits in a hat, and rolled up flags, and with the skill of making images from twisting and turning balloons, brings smiles to faces of the young and of a young heart.          

Noted: none of the above would keep me inside a hot, smelly circus tent for very long.

Maybe women with no man of their own or those with small fathers and brothers — find pleasure inside such tents when the strongman of the show appears, in only shorts ... exposing biceps, drenched in exotic Eastern oils.       Bar-bells are no match to his strength, boxes of lead ... thrown near and far; iron balls with rusty chains are torn from there fixings; the ladies glance aside, comparing any similarities to their companion.          

So to finish his show, Mr Universe — as the strongman boasts to be ... lifts his assistant (as we now know is the sister of the young missing girl.)   Chapter 5

The trip from Bella-hills.

There is nothing better for sad soles than a clear and warm sky.      Thoughts once upper most in minds of those in travel, when the only ones to see them off is the cold winds and pouring rain.          

Let us now put numbers and names to those in this convoy.        

The first is the largest of the circus caravans — the one painted yellow with red and green lines to both sides; with both Mr Bobster and Miss Fisher ... sitting up front.  Following in file of importance~importance in the minds of those in the order of things.      Second, the three clowns, and the two acrobats; next, the wagons carrying the trained animals (safely contained in cages — of steel and iron,) and their trainers; one being Joe Brown.      Then the other trapeze acts, (second to Miss Fisher,) musicians, tightrope walkers, jugglers and one unicyclist.       In the last caravan Madam T (the fortune teller,) the strongman, and the knife thrower, and his two daughters.

~~~~

To recap.      It was 10am, a sunny and warm morning meet those who woke.    Some where in good sprit and some not so (of no interest to this narrative.)     The convoy that morning left Bella-hills heading towards Graymarsh (five days travel.)      The good roads made for easy travelling, they're passing drawing small crowds, with smaller children waving, some larger children glassy eyed towards dreams of being in a circus; but hands held fast by a parent remembering the same such dream long-ago.        The first day uneventful for the minds of these performing artist — still in love with the past; some in love with an acquaintance, or a one off lover left behind.       At night the convoy of caravans would circle with military precision and all  go about with their assigned duties; the very young to gather wood and collect water, for a stream would not be far away.      Camp fires burst into life, smoke fully the close air, pots and pans making sounds of cooking ... Joe Brown talking (Bobo) his elephant to splash in the stream ... the Lyons, monkeys and the camel wait for their dinner.        The voice of Mr Bobstor can be heard near and far, half with instructions and half with song.        Music either in practice or for enjoyment of all quietly manoeuvres this way and that, round and about, through and back — each note played matching a word sung (if any words were required?).         

This is how the days and nights passed in general over the days and nights that had to follow before the troop of circus performers reached  Graymarsh.

~~~~

Chapter 6

Jack Jackson. The Tight-wire walker.

My enquires to date have no leads to the where-a-bouts of the missing young girl  (daughter of the knife thrower.)     I have from time to time thought a glance of her had brighten my eyes, yet all proved unfounded. 

~~~~ 

Like a Tight-wire walker — an Inspector in the police force share the art of maintaining balance.    One while walking along a tensioned wire between two points, the other between motive and opportunity.   Both can be done either using a balancing tool (balance pole,) for the tight-wire walker or only his body to maintain balance.     Where I, balance facts against reality ... evidence and proof of conviction.      Tight-wire performances may fall performing their act: with the only damage is to their own body and esteem. Chapter 7

Without or within ear shot.

The young girl gave (the constable,) her name as Emma and the name lizzie to her missing sister.      Lizzie (she informed,) was there in Bella-hills and left with the others — in the first in the caravan with father and herself (Emma.)      The next day (as Lizzie,) was accustomed of doing travelled with Joe. Jealous she was of me (Emma) for I was Joe's assistant ... I know (Emma) told the constable.)       Lizzie longed to exchange rolls, and I, (Emma) to be the sister their father throws knifes at, and she (Lizzie) to be the assistant of Joe.         This (Emma) continued, I would not agree to (nor our father.)        Emma, rejoined to her narrative for reasons ... I'm sure having anything to do with her disappearance.

Through the village of Handle, a small place and nothing to stop for — just a butcher, a baker and yes — a candle-maker.         Up the hill on High Street and down on Oxford Street  ... did the convoy of the circus travel.    It was to the front of the Ironmongery and Stables the wagon of Joe Brown stop; to renew a buckle and metal strapping broken three days before.        It was here Lizzie he informed me left his side to venture to the grocery shop.      She called back to him (Joe) I will catch you up before you know I've gone.     Mr Bobstor and the others continued without pause nor a second thought.          Emma and her father (Rowan) never looked back; unaware Lizzie was without or within ear shot.

I have recorded; the buckle and the metal strap was repaired under half an hour.        The Black Smith proved efficient and happy to chat on any subject that came to his thinking ... Joe in his wait for Lizzie to return took a pint of ale and a crust of bread with a slice of cheese. 

I have recorded; Mr Bobstor, Miss Fisher and the other members of the troupe proceed North.Chapter 8

Lizzie.

The grocery shop engrossed a young girls mind for more than the time she had allocated

of shopping in it, and so passed the half hour she asked Joe to wait.       However, her delay was not taxing his patients, for the ale was consuming his wellbeing and the cheese driving him to sleep.         

Noted: An hour or more had passed ... any memory of waiting for a young girl with name of Lizzie had elapse.      Joe Brown climbed upon his wagon, and left the village without the daughter of the knife thrower.  Chapter 9

Mr Bray - The knife thrower.

Three musicians with fiddle, flute, and pipe, play loud Oh! what can the young girl do when her father is part and the parcel of the deception, a melody suitable for such this occasion.

Need I join the dots and colour in the squares for those unfamiliar with the art of knife throwing.        We all like to be in the front seat to gather the best view~to be there, if and when the marksman aims near the target ... in mind glade it is him or her other than you; tied to the spring wheel, round and round, one moment your blood to your head the next fulling your feet and with every thought and hope~hopping the knife being thrown your direction, is on target and no puff of unexpected wind diverts its travel.

Oh! what can the young girl do when her father is part and the parcel of the deception;

never in her short sweet life on earth once her young mother had left with the most wonderful Mr Kringle … Mr Kringle to a still young and beautiful girl; never to far from her family in becoming of age.     Fresh, lovely and willing — and not twenty-one (was the mother.)     Her dark eyes (large round and loving,) her smooth ruddy lips inviting those with the desire to look upon and a longing to kiss.       For such a beautiful naive person married to the circus and to the older knife thrower by her parents for a substantial sum of money ... finding herself with child — not one but two before the third season.

~~~~

The street hid no wagon nor did it show where Joe Brown was to be waiting for her.

Lizzie with her small bag of cotton and thread purchased, looked to her left and then to her right.          The thoughts fulling her mind are clouding reason, and logic ... darkling clouds add to her convulsion.        Where is Joe, miming the words twice; a tear can be seen if another was standing to her left.         Yes, and unseen there was.           

A little old man, a lean figure of about fifty years of age.     He was wearing a grey coat with a very narrow collar, and a black waistcoat Oh! What can the young girl do when her father is part and the parcel of the deception, tight trousers (to tight for a man of his age.)       His gold watch and fob hung from a steel chain~the gold chain having being renounced.

Lizzie on her hearing his voice, turns — his sharp and prominent nose is at her eyes sight, she is close enough to count the loss of three teeth, the balance are yellow.     His cheeks are streaked with the colour ... for the evening air is cooling.      Lizzie is also feeling the chills of the on coming night.

'Miss Bray.' I am Mr Swift, moving a little closer and reaching out to carry the bag.      'I know your father, please be not frightened.'

Lizzie tightens her grip, regaining the distance that was once between them.

'Come with me Miss Bray, before the sky becomes darker.'           'You must be hungry?' 

'I am waiting for Mr Joe Brown,' she advises, looking up the street ... not in his direction.

~~~~

It is a hard life for gypsies, nomads and circus performers ... many unwanted soles of others, many orphans cast out of poor families, many sold to clear credit.       Some  to be free from others, and situations beyond their control.      To escaped an unwanted lover.       As with all occupations, each having advantages and disadvantages, each providing reward for effort and nothing for nothing.

~~~~

So it was in Collington some distance from Bella-hills and some distance from Graymarsh ... said it was in King's Inn, in Kings Avenue; Mr King (yes a coincidence I'm sure,) he and several men of the town partaking in gambling with cards behind closed doors for large amounts of family money, and processions ... and for Mr Bray (the knife thrower,) now after three hours with no wining cards all has to offer a daughter.           

11.30pm the debts must be settled.         For no other man was the debt so high, only notes of the crown need to be exchanged, and ale bills were settled.       Discussion time was upon the biggest loser of the night; the men of the town knew not where to stare or rest their eyes towards.

Mr Bray was handed the note.      His words in his hand struck like knives in heart, his eyes covered by unsteady hands could not hide his bet.          To see your cards sir; I place one of my daughters, with the blessing of my God.      If my cards are greater in value then yours sir Oh! What can the young girl do when her father is part and the parcel of the deception, I will pocket the ten of your pounds.         And if your cards are greater the the total value of mine sir.         A daughter of mine, she will be yours.Chapter 10

Payment for a debt.

From my investigations; we can return to Lizzie ... having been discarded by a friend and fellow circus performer — he; she has travelled as companion, he; as a member of her extended family, he; who left her behind ... to add upon the grief of a mother finding love with another than her father, living a life like no other of her age, travelling from town to village~village to town, leaning little more than the need to learn only the importance of a circus performer.          If not for her sister her bed would be occupied by young and old who seduced her with trinkets and the promise of love, freedom and covetous. 

Noted; Mr King of The King's Inn, had no need for a young girl Oh! what can the young girl do when her father is part and the parcel of the deception, one that could be more trouble than the cards that turned up that night greater in number than the cards turned up that night on that table ... greater those (in number,) of Mr Bray.        So; Mr King found a gentleman to free him of his win; taking this young girl of two a like from him and her father.         The father selected one daughter from the other, arranging with Joe Brown to deliver the chosen daughter to the owner of his note.          Mr Swift the new owner of the note and now within touch of his prise.         

Mr Swift repeated this question.    'You must be hungry.'        Lizzie looked at the man again.    'Why are you taking interest in my wellbeing, have we knowledge of each other, has my father sent you to return me to the the caravans ... heading to Graymarsh?'    Her questions all running into one sentence with little gaps between each word.       'No'.  'You

now answer to me and will do as I wish.'     He did not look into her eyes —  but saw her confusion ... and non-comprehension.     'Now.'    'Come we must be off.'       

She could not understand how her father could inflict this pain on her — why had he?

I arrived in Collington; several weeks after  the daughter of the knife throwers daughter was reported missing by her sister ... and with this sister, together we have interrogated Joe Brown, Mr Bobster, Miss Fisher ... each and everyone Oh! What can the young girl do when her father is part and the parcel of the deception, including the clowns and the musicians.       All but Joe Brown new more of their discipline than the whereabouts of the missing knife throwers daughter.          Joe confessed it was he (under the instructions of Mr Bray;) to leave Lizzie there to defend for herself.        He expressed is remorse and guilt for leaving her there ... he had no option other than to do so —  for the knife thrower had convictions against him. (That is another story.)Chapter 11

Not all is as we see.

On the floor among toys and wooden boxes, lay in happiness; not a figure huddled tight ... with legs bent, ankles crossed, chin tucked, down, sad; but a young fresh girl content in her whereabouts — elbows on knees and an up lifted face, smiling, happy for the first time in her short life.       Free from a drunken father, a strongman with desires upon a sweet girls sole ... nor those so called would be lovers, with every intentions of owning this young girls  mind.         A bedroom to call her own, no sister to share her privacy her notes, to tell tails on and about her every move.       New clothes (coloured cottons, patterned fabric bought to replace old, passed down to her from others, altered to fit such a small figure. No thought of this had very crossed her mind from the day of her birth ... the death of her mother ... the beds of the tight-wire walker, the strongman and the animal trainer — each instructing her in love making.      Now  with a struck of luck; caused by a father's gaming loss, a note of debt ... the fall of misplaced cards upon the gaming table late in night.     The on-sell of a note ... passed from Mr King to an even older gentleman Mr Swift.        No better gentleman could the note have found, for at his age not lover does he require ... but a keeper of his house and needs to his age ... and happy upon his death to reward this young slim figure of a girl — all his processions.

~~~~

The house of Mr Swift as was described by a stream and a water mill and stone arched bridge ... with the pebbled path curving away with boundaries of colour — off to the freedom of pastures green ... with hedges of bracken — yellow in this season.       Cattle feed upon the green grasses or rest once eaten under a tree — next to the stream~the stream (in only the short time this young girl had been,) become a favourite.         

My single knock is answered as I applied it; she is more beautiful than any of the descriptions recorded with my pencil.       'Are you Lizzie Bray?'      My eyes not leaving hers.          'Lizzie is one — but not the other ... the other is Swift.'       Her answer to me is given.       Her eyes sparkle and her lips twist only slightly.         The voice of a man (Mr Swift, I'm advised.)    'Who is at the door?'          'A man looking for a Miss Bray.’  

‘I have advised him no such person lives here.' 

The End.

Three cases … 

requiring no-further Investigation.(1) The case of missing Master Piece.

The artist, with the name of Turner; stood with brush in hand (his right — being right handed, it can be assumed,) and the favourite palette in his left — his thumb tucked in the little circular hole.          In his mouth a sketching pencil (it's end a little soggy — from his continuous  sucking of it.)          If a knock were to come to the studio door (now,) he would not be aware — for his attention is totally consumed by his master piece. 

So it was reported that following winter (by he who painted it,) the master piece of outrages orange, reds, and greens, and several shades purple  —  painted from the window of a rented room by the sea, had disappeared.            Mr Turner (the artist,) he told the constable (a policeman, not the artist;) he had completed the work .... that night before making love to the house-keeper, in her apartment (above the room ... his studio.)          Woken (the next morning,) by the before mentioned house-keeper, drawing curtains, and warm words of affection — words not heard from his discarded wife, or his daughters — of a passed existence.          He continued, having left the bed; dressed ... he returned to the room (his studio,) only to find the painting of the before mentioned, was no-longer on the ....           Gone; the orange, the reds and the greens ... there applied last night — with the striking angry flowing brushes ... crowned in rich deep colours of the sky and the sea; gone; the sails, and smoke-stacks of ships ... coming or going.           In its place  —  (Here, Mr Turner held his words ... he grunted, return his top hat to his head, said good-day to the constable (the policeman, not the artist,) and left.

It was learnt  (via gossip,) in the days that followed — the before mentioned house-keeper, had that morning exchanged the master-piece (painted that night before,) with another of her favourites ... and it was she, whispered in the ear or Mr Turner as he reported the lost.

(2) The case of the missing Blacksmith girl. 

Joe Smith was a blacksmith, of Blacksmith foundry in Furnace Lane - due to the fact there was once a steel works furnace near by.        He worked there with his three brothers; Jon Smith, Josh Smith and Jack Smith ... also with two brothers, and a daughter of the Black family; Tom Black, Timmy Black and Jane Black.        Jane who was the bellows blower, failed to be there one morning, and failed to be home one night, the next morning she failed to be there, and that night failed to be home ... This continued for seven days.        The Blacksmiths, after much thought (came as one mind,) to the conclusion she was missing — and reported fact to the local constabulary.         Inquires were made on their behalf.     Taking no more than four hours to discover she had eloped and married (in secret,) yes; you guessed it —  to another Smith.        (No just kidding,) she had married Joe Harrier (the third son of James and July Harrier) leaving on foot that very day ... never to return.

~~~~

(3) The case of the missing digit.

Rollin is as thick as the skin on butcher Kilmore's pork sausages — he tells those that ask, are from piglets not more than ten weeks old ... knowing the truth is several pigs sty away — in fact coming from the old sell that gave birth to the for-mentioned piglets, who now Rome free without any knowledge of sausages or chops.       If it were not for the fact butcher Kilmore foolhardily removed the finger most used for picking his nostrils and cleaning wax from his ears, he could have gone on with is daily chores without the drawing attention to the missing digit.          However this was not the case — for it was the dumb and thick Rollin who found the said digit, ever so nicely wrapped inside his sausage. 

Inspector Cutler.

Seeks - Lady Mary Wellesley.

Chapter 1

The Note.

I sat behind the frosted glass panel which was a wall between my office and the foyer of the police station itself.       By placing my drinking glass with the large open end against the glass panel, and the base of the glass against my ear; then by controlling my breathing, I can make out the words spoken by the gentleman on one side of the counter and the constable from the other (many duplicates of the first.)          Unable to see (through the glass panel,) yet confident that each and every word spoken was being written down.          Judging by the shadow cast there by the overhead lighting, the gentleman on the other side of the glass panel ... stands no more than five foot tall (a little taller if he were to replace his hat.)        He is of slender stature (for the shadow is of no great width,) the only other features of interest ... his hair is shoulder length and his nose a little pointed.         Weary from eavesdropping, I return the drinking glass to its decanter and replenish the contents (returning to by desk,) notice the gentleman has left the foyer.       In no hurry; quite happy to sit and enjoy the port, my eye falls upon the note (placed on the desk — by the constable-unnoticed, as my back was turned from the door.)           My thoughts just for a moment flashed towards the idea that I could be dead, without knowing how and by whom.       Lucky for me I'm an Inspector in my safe office.        Another thought appeared to me as the port travelled passed my lips to my stomach ... that I should take more care. 

The note read.    I first saw (who I later came to know as Lady Wellesley) on the 11.30 morning tram from Picton; she was already seated when I entered at Havelock station.     We just glanced in each other's direction — but no introduction was made.      I could she was a person of sound up bringing and possibly a lady of some wealth (however,) I did wonder to myself; why such a lady as she ... would be travelling on this mode of transport, and at this time of the morning.        From my seat four rows behind and on the opposite side,  could observe the lady in question and those to her front, rear and to her side ... she spoke to no one and no one attempted to converse with her.       The constable under lined this entry, twice.         The narrative continued.      On the request to show her ticket she did by removing it from the small red silk-lined clutch purse carried in a gloved hand.        As I watched this take place not once did her eyes deviate from what ever held her attention outside.     On the need to produce my ticket (and the time it took to do so,) the tram had stopped and she had gone.                        'Is this women known to you sir?'

The constable wrote and under lined the reply.                                      'Not at this time.

I had returned to the decanter several occasions during reading (refilling the glass with ever increasing amounts,) and increasing the flame of the gas light as the room was being invaded by darkness.       I had discarded my boots and waistcoat, also loosed my belt.        My stomach felt full although, I had not eaten since breakfast (I guess the alcohol was fulling the void.)         Distracting my attention for a moment; some activity in the foyer beyond the frosted glass panel was causing people to run in many directions (none however into his office.)        A policeman's whistle could be heard (maybe two blocks away,) thus causing all the commotion.

The narrative continued on the second page; the gentleman told the constable he again saw the lady ten days later, on the same tram, and at the same time.        He did on this occasion, look directly at her and said good-morning.       Unfortunately the adjacent seating was occupied, she did however return his look ... but no words passed her lips.      So he sat several seats back.        The constable noted this fact, underling the comment (but no words passed her lips.)    Today; although she looked as beautiful as the first day, and still dressed in fine clothes of a lady ... yet there was just that something different about her person (nothing I could put my mine to, just something a little strange.)    Again she left the tram at the same station as on the first encounter.       He continued.        The next time I saw her was on the first day of the following month, a Tuesday; again she was seated near the door ... this day she raised her eyes to acknowledge my greeting of good morning, but still no word passed her lips.      I was able to sit behind her.       Her scent drifted with the slight breeze being encouraged through the open tram door (it had an aroma of a rose,) a singular thread of a tangled ringlet found itself free from confinement ... something on another day would have be return to its tie.       Put back into its place.   The constable wrote and underlined.       Also the gentleman joined the last comment (the reason for the escaping rogue hair,) was the lady's missing bonnet — absent from her head today.        The tram arrived at her station; she gathered her coat (together with a paper bag,) rose from her set, and without a glance in my direction was gone.     However once outside, did look back towards the tram.  

I was none the wiser why this had be brought to the attention of the police; who was this person (the gentleman who earlier in the day recited this narrative to the constable,) and who was the women, and why did he find it necessary to follow her on these occasions?

The decanter was now empty and hunger had conquered my thoughts (bring to my brain the need for food.)       At tap on the glass panel drew my attention to the time.      'Sir'. The constable suggested it was time to go home, as he was locking the door.      I slipped the note into my jacket pocket and left.       My thoughts now distracted from the note (folded safety in my pocket,) if only for a short time ... as I recall faces of those I've scanned, those carrying out business of their own or doing business of others.      Some in disguise, with distinguished features covered by a large rimmed top hat or a bonnet tied with a scarf.      How I have laughed at those wearing long greatcoats standing under lampposts of a night — with cigarette and newspaper in hand; with one eye in each direction.        Have I (deep in thought,) with a hand in my pocket (fingering the note,) ever recorded in such detail~details so thorougher, as has this gentleman of this lady. Chapter 2

The Lady

The gentleman began to explain to the constable (how the lady appeared that first day,) describing her appearance in some detail.      Most ladies of any standing in society, would take pleasure of his observations ... men in general can struggle in describing a ladies attire.       From where I sat those seats behind (he now added to his narrative,) I spent my time observing, (hopefully undetected,) her hair.      Her hair light brown in colour with a fullness in body (very fashionable at the time — the constable had underlined those five words.)    

Those reading with any knowledge in ladies hairstyles of this period; would be aware ... to achieve this look — the lady's maid would wind her mistress's hair around balls of padding, (called "rats",) thus providing the platform for an elegant picture hat.

Her hat he rejoined (which the lady I am observing - removed,) with it sitting on her lap ... the ostrich feathers waving in a circular motion with the breeze.        'This lady Sir, is very much a lady of our period.'        As I explained earlier; we did not exchange words.     Now as she rose to leave the tram (he informed the constable,) her hourglass figure became obvious to all viewers; her beauty only equal to the jewellery carried by her long neck, the pearl neckless — resting nicely on two very high boned collars.     With her slender fingers, I watched as she expertly attached again her elegant hat with two silver hat pins.       

It was a warm day, she worn only a white blouse and a long cream dress  — held to her narrow by a red sash or belt (the style described as ... full in front and puffed into a "pigeon breast".)

'Sir, again I must add ... pretty as a picture'.

Again these words underline. 

The second time of our encounter ... was as I said — was ten days later.        As I had said before her appearance was similar, however sometime was different.        She left the tram at the same station as on the other occasions ... her long cream skirt brushed the floor.     Today I noticed her shoes (or a small boot,) they were narrow and had a pointed toe with a high heel — leather, and laced ... with a little fur around the edges.

Chapter 3

Tram from Picton

I woke with a clear head — deciding over night to experience this tram trip; and to in counter this lady (so interesting enough to report missing,) by a gentleman unknown to her.       The platform was busy.     I wondered if I would recognise the lady in question from her description, and if the gentleman (who reported her absence,) would he be on the tram; and would I be able to recognise him from the silhouette gained through the frosted glass panel in my office.    I entered the last carriage, waited until the tram started moving ... then in no urgency made my way through the tram.        In my job tram trips at this time of the morning (or at anytime in fact,) have be far a few between.

Today this Electric tram (new to this route, replacing the earlier horse drawn tram ... forever late to timetable — due to frequent changes of horse,) carried many fine people, going about their businesses ... although not the lady described in my notes.       Four seats from the front door a figure of some resemblance to he that stood the other side of my frosted glass panel.       The set next to him was vacant; he looked up to me and I down to him.     I asked if the seat was taken. He replied no, and I sat down.     We sat without a word for some way, then I asked if he had advised a constable of a missing lady from this tram.        Our eyes meet, his eyebrows lifted, his ears twisted, his mouth opened — then shut.      Finally, in a low voice (having moved closer to my face — his breath has a fresh scent (no smell of tobacco.)   'Why do you ask?'       'You came to the police station and left a report ... which I have in my pocket.'         I replied.

The gentleman (his name Jack Overtone, he would advise — before our parting,) once having travelled to and back from East Edgeton - without the lady in question having boarded the tram.

More at ease and with time to spare, volunteered ... It was another two weeks before I saw her again, this day the set next to her (as it was today for you,) vacant.    I asked as you did, if I could sit — she showed no objection.      She smelt like roses and lavender and spices of the orient.    I made comment about the weather, about the electric tram, before that the steam tram and before the horse drawn tram ... small talk between stations.    She never involved yourself in the conversation until she made to leave; and only to say, thank for your company.     With butterflies buzzing within my stomach, and the rushing blood to my head — starving by heart.      I asked her name.     She only gave a sight smile ... she was at the door, before turning back — 'Lady Mary Wellesley.' 

Lady Wellesley looked back towards the tram in his direction (a pause in her step ... a thought in her head.)      Yes, he is certainly wonderfully handsome — with his finely curved scarlet lips; his frank blue eyes; his shinning black hair.      (Held in praise for that split second,) yes (she whispered to no one but herself,)  there is something in his face that draws one to him at once.      At any age ... still has all the qualities of youth — plus all youth's passionate purity (innocence,) still he has the  pulse and passion of youth, but he was becoming self-conscious.       The tram moves forward, their eyes meet, unable to suppress a smile, an involuntary wave ... she quickly looks away.   

'Inspector with this war upon us — rumoured just weeks from now; I fair I will never see her again.      (Jack Overtone, turns back from the window,) I need to tell her I love her and have from that first day.      You see Sir.      I have enlisted and will be leaving for Europe before  November.'

The End.

Inspector Cutler

Learns about the death of Claudine Sayers.

Chapter 1

It has just gone twelve ... the sun has long passed its head through into the darkness of night.    Good people who work civilised hours — have gone to their beds.

~~~~

From the table — the only one vacant at this time of the night ... with views of the new Willmount Road Theatre building; of red bricks, plaster columns and casement windows ... not that this table commanded any greater view than any others of the theatre~theatre now obstructing — the coloured carnival lights on Nelson Pier, and the fishing boats — the building blocking once a panorama view of the harbour; sat eighty-year old mr Grace.       

'Coffee, mr Grace?    Asked young Mabel.     His one word reply was,  'Yes.'  Given without any eye contact.     

Mabel was young because she was not yet eighty.      And as was the way in these modern times ... poured the coffee in haste and without vainness — yet more frivolousness than her own appearance.        

'What's holding your nose in that paper this morning?'       Her question he felt warranted no reply, and so it received none.  

'Rude old bugger, is that mr Grave.'   Mabel sharing her option with Janet ... once out of ear shot.

~~~~

The cafe cleared of its clientele — as the    town clock struck five minutes passed the hour of one (having never had kept the correct time since 1889.)       Caps and heavy coats again placed upon bodies of men setting off home after another day's hard work.      Mr Grace only once raised his head to acknowledge a farewell from Jack Newton, then return to his reading.

'Bring me two slices of toast and jam, and another coffee ... be sure it's made from hot water.'       The order was firmly directed towards Mabel - and she was well aware of its urgency.

~~~~

The jury — without retiring — returned a verdict that the deceased ... miss Claudine Sayers; was found dead on the 30th November.     However there was no evidence to show how death had occurred.

This is what held the head of mr Grace, when Mabel asked the question of him.Chapter 2

The night of the 13th of November, the new musical "The Pirates of Penzance" had being running for many months  ... tonight was to be its finale and farewell performance. 

The final act brought all the actors to the stage again — encore; bravo, array, array ... the theatre with-stood the stamping of many feet.   When at last the stragglers left the stage — so did Jimmy Toolman ... arm in arm with Dorothy Newbridge.

It appeared all the cabs had occupants; so it was decided to walk ... taking advantage of the exercise it would entail.      To the casual observer Timmy was a head taller — a fine Edwardian young man ... with coat and top hat to suit.      Dorothy also met most the periods criteria.     Dorothy glanced at her watch.

'It's tomorrow already.' She whispered — pinching Jimmy's hand.    Jimmy for his part squeezed her cheek.

'Tomorrow by-jove,' said Jimmy, 'and I have not had my reward ... nor taken advantage of a willing encounter.'      His hand now on her  breast.      Ah! ah!     The evening has turned from pleasant to very-pleasant; Jimmy has enjoyed the play.    Dorothy had slipped her warm hand in his and — together held for most of the performance ... even on one occasion gave him a gentle kiss … any dark thoughts he'd had, now were full of light — nothing was  lost at sea.      

~~~~

A cab was stopped at the steps of the apartment when they arrived.      As coincidences go ... mr Grace has at this moment removed his head from the Dunghill Press - witnessing the arrivals, and shows an interest in their movements ... also noticing a figure come out from the parked cab and slowly follows the new arrivals into the building.

Reader: I (inspector Cutler,) must advise this has nought to do with then narrative with which my mind is set upon solving ... so, will leave Jimmy Toolman and Dorothy Newbridge to make love; and for mr Grace to ponder on the stranger (to him, to them and us,) and as yet found no need to inform the police. 

~~~

The younger Mabel has brought a second helping of toast and jam (before the request has been made,) as is her custom to do so ... plus another coffee (made from hot water.)

'That must be some story that's holding your interest in that paper George?'      The older mr Grace had often regretted allowing his christian name becoming public.      Her question he felt warranted no reply, and so it received none.  

The headline reads ... Mysterious Death.

A witness (a girl of much the same age, and known to the deceased,) mentioned — a purse found in the pocket of the dress contained £4 in money, a silver brooch, a watch, and a pair of earrings.      Not much for twenty-something old girl ... thought mr Grace, checking his pockets to confirm that he had slightly more (although no brooch nor earrings, and that his watch, still hung on his Albert chain.)

The next paragraph followed up on an earlier report that on August 23rd, miss Claudine Sayers obtained a fortnight's holiday, and left with the intention of visiting her mother, who resides near Graymarsh.        It was confirmed that she did go there, and while there endeavoured to negotiate for the sale of some jewellery (no description provided,) which she owns jointly with her sister.     

Chapter 3

As is my custom become these days — after the arrival of miss Blue-bell Jones ... into my life — now, that's to be aired here at this time; arrive at my office — two hours from the hour once arrived prior to her acquaintance ... find the Dunghill Press - opened upon the very page that held the head of mr Grace.

With continuous annoyance ... as is his habit — constable Krone - highlights interesting (to him anyway,) paragraphs within the text.

The headline reads ... Mysterious Death.

The details followed as recorded ... in the theatre group was one girl Friday named Claudine Sayers - aged twenty-three, and on Friday last her dead body was found on the premises under very singular and mysterious circumstances ... the girl came to Mrs Lewis (the groups manageress,) as a general stage hand last Christmas, and was with them until August 23rd of this year, when she obtained a fortnight's holiday, and left with the intention of visiting her mother, who resides near Graymarsh.     

Sleep (I have found,) has been a problem of late — new lovers find themselves (burning the candle from both ends ... it's said,) and now I have come to understand the meaning — however a good mystery sharpens the mind.

'Hot coffee constable, with three sugar lumps today.'     My voice, to me (anyway,) has the tone of a lover — not that of Police Inspector.  (I hope he does not pick up on the warmth in my command.)       On his return with the coffee and a slice of chocolate rough, the constable remarked.        'To think that girl was here in Graymarsh, and we never knew.'

'Why would we know?'       I replied with less feeling (I hopped,) in my voice.      He rejoined.    'We my know of her sister, for she — it say lives here?'I believe there is no case for me to investigate  - it's just a missing person, once missed was found dead.        No murder as far as the Dunghill Press and the police reports show.

~~~~

On September the 2nd she resumed duties at the theatre (prior to her departure on this holiday,) she had been a cheery, lively happy natured girl — but after her return she appeared to have some trouble on her mind, some joy and spirit seemed to have gone.     

Yet over the following months performed her duties with the best of her skills — never once was she slow or late to her post.    However, she did not put in an appearance, and an examination of her room showed that her bed had not been slept in.      Mr Lewis reported her disappearance to the police, and communicated with the girl's friends.   No information as to her movements could be gained. 

November the 23rd, while Mr and Mrs Lewis were sitting together - with other members of the group ... having just completed a rather superior performance from the night before (they had all agreed - that was the case,) they heard moans coming from over head (possibly from a room above the curtain holding bay,) knowing that this store-room was continually overrun with rats and cats, it was concluded that one of these animals had been unfortunate enough to become jammed between two pieces of the scenery and was unable to escape.       No one (that night,) volunteered ... so it was not till the following Friday - after that nights performance concluded, and any, if any, moaning had ceased.         

Mr Lewis added here at this point, that several months had passed between that night and the following Friday.             Yes this was 

confirmed by those there.

Now the smell from above became very offensive ... growing in noisomeness until it became almost unbearable.         It's at this moment of time mr Lewis, mr Applebee, and mr Rivers - determined to overhaul the scenery and endeavour to ascertain the source of this annoyance.     

Stripped from actors costume ... naked to trousers and boots; lanterns at hand and fear to the rear of their thoughts ... climb the ladder to heights (seldom achieved on the stage below.)        They move large quantities of stored scenery, props and ropes and buckles and chains and boxes (most with ease,) but one piece defied their united efforts.      Mr  Rivers (the younger by ten years and fitter by five stone,) climbed up to the top of the mass to see what was the cause of resistance.      To his horror he discovers lying on the top of the scenery the dead body of miss Claudine Sayers in an advanced stage of decomposition.    

At the inquest the facts were presented with the best of memory.           Mr Rivers advised. 

The body was lying on its back with the hands crossed over its breast, and the bodice of the merino dress which she had worn when last seen  — torn as if in great agony.     The girl lay on a bed, which she had carefully prepared, between two unused curtains — the bed must have been prepared in a most deliberate manner, and must have been difficult to except to such a young person.

~~~~     

The constable entered my office with fresh coffee ... I placed the paper to one side, stood and cleared my vision — no words did we exchange.       As a man recently in love, and fond of a young female figure ... my eyes filled with tears — some escaping, down and over my checks into my mouth.

~~~~

The report continued (a majority of her face features were completely destroyed, and the flesh deeply discoloured.)    The girl had disappeared on November l0th, and was found on November 30th.    The Dunghill Press being of the date of November 16th seems to show that she was then alive, but this is only conjecture; as all enquires made to date cannot discover any one who saw her after October 15th.    

The inquest found.    The medical evidence was to the effect that the body was too far gone to enable it to be said how long she had been dead.      There was no trace of poison or of any tampering with the girl.     The doctors favoured the idea that she had died of starvation, though they could not say positively.     The girl shared jewellery with her sister, and some disagreement had taken place between them as to disposal of it.     This appeared to be the only trouble on her mind.      

Dressed in her fineness (with her stage manner to the front,) mrs Lewis addressed the Coroner's court.      Spoken, better than any previous solo recital — her voice would be heard at the back of any theatre in town (or in any country.)       Mrs Lewis said in evidence. I asked her what her trouble was, but she had a way of clenching her teeth and nothing could then be got from her.      I told her to go in and have a good cry, but she threw herself on the kitchen table (and said.)    

'It is my sister who is driving me to this; I want my money, I want my money ... is all she demands of me.'       

Mrs Lewis rejoined.     I laughed the matter off, and tried to comfort her as much as I could.    I had engaged another girl to come on the Wednesday afternoon.    (She, miss Claudine said.)      'I might as well stay here as anywhere else.'        She said (continued mrs Lewis,) this with what appeared to be some meaning, but at the time I did not take any notice of it.      She was depressed and her appearance was very remarkable, and there was a very peculiar look about her eyes. I never saw her again alive ... and her last words to me were — that she wished to go right away — right away from everybody, and everyone, from here, there and everywhere.The Coroner in summing up said. 

The deceased had evidently been most respectable and trustworthy — becoming much depressed in consequence of the unsatisfactory position of her property, her love of her sister and her life in general; and in his long experience as a medical man and as a Coroner had convinced him that young women in certain conditions of health were likely to take most irrational views of matters which they would at other times treat lightly.     

It was not at all unlikely that the deceased had given way to despondency to the extent of determining to take her own life by starvation.       The Coroner paused to gain new breath, a sip of (who there in the room,) thought — water, continued.  

There were no indications of violence having been used towards her, so that any theory that she had been murdered was quite untenable, nor were there any signs of poisoning.      The post mortem examination revealed conditions which bore out the theory of starvation, and he would not say that the examination absolutely established that as the true solution of the mystery surrounding her death (but it pointed to it as being most probable,) along with the circumstance that the body was almost nude was also evidence in favour of that explanation — because it was a remarkable fact that in every case of death from starvation or thirst that he had heard of — the deceased had been discovered partly nude.    Although no one there in the courtroom this day could (ever,) remember having heard or read such an explanation ... a surveyor who had nearly perished from thirst - has given such account ... there had said, that just before losing his reason, he was overtaken by an uncontrollable desire to tear off his clothes.

The Coroner - looking up from the report, which lay in front of him ... added, while indications of starvation were thus present in this case, there was an absence of direct evidence to that effect, and the jury would probably be unable to express any opinion as to what had actually caused the death of miss Claudine Sayers.   

Chapter 4 

Willmount Road Theatre ... was now  discharging those there on this last performance of "The Pirates of Penzance" — not a derogatory word was said against reputation of any actor or actress — nor a disparaging comment of a person or thing  — encore; bravo, array, array ... the theatre was experiencing for the first time ... stamping of many feet.        

Mr Lewis (theatre owner, and his wife,) were as proud as punch.

~~~~There was no other incidents brought to my attention today ... the people of Graymarsh — having behaved themselves (maybe due to the winter weather,) or maybe all were intrigued by life in general.        What ever their reason, my mind was not concerned towards them —  my only thought was a night before a roaring fire and the company of my love ... my pretty miss Blue-bell Jones.

'Goodnight constable.'      Were my parting words.         As I passed the desk an old gentleman stood (his back towards me,) giving information to the constable.

Based on a true story - first posted, December 1888. 

(Mysterious Death.)

The End.