Miss Alice Lovelady's First Omnibus of her Inexplicable Adventures Read online

  My eyes met with Sir Percival’s. Shenanigans, indeed. I left it to him to pursue the matter further.

  “Would you like a fish, Miss?”

  Looking round I saw one of the staff, a youngish fellow with the merest beginnings of a beard starting to grow, with a bucket. His uniform seemed to have strange stains on it.

  “Er, no thank you. I’ve barely finished breakfast.”

  “For the penguins, Miss.”

  Luckily his voice only had the barest trace of ‘she’s an idiot’ in it.

  “I apologise. No, thank you.” Then a thought occurred to me and I gently touched his arm to pull him away from the higher-level dialogue Sir Percival was having with the manager.

  “Do you have any trouble with the penguins?” I asked quietly.

  “Oh, no, Miss. Lovely creatures. Daft as hatters, though.”

  “Any staff overly fond of them?”

  “You mean… ?” His innocent blue eyes looked into mine.

  How to word this? “Do you know of anyone that was dismissed in strange circumstances?”

  He looked around in case of being overheard. We were surrounded by small over-excited children and a few harried adults trying to keep them under control. He drew me into an emptier space. “I heard of one chap. Nothing to do with me,” he added hastily.

  “Oh, no,” I assured him. “I’m sure a fine upstanding fellow like yourself would do nothing amiss. Tell me about this fellow.”

  I moved closer and discovered an unfortunate fishy smell. Hopefully it was just the bucket he still carried.

  “Well,” his eyes darted around again, “I heard like he tried to take one back home with him.”

  “Never!” I quietly exclaimed, wide-eyed. “However did he manage that?”

  “Wrapped it up in blankets like a baby. Only found out when it tried to peck the bus conductor’s behind!”

  I hid a genteel laugh behind my hand. “And the police were called?”

  “Oh, no. The conductor he calls the zoo. He,” indicating with his head the gentleman Sir Percival was speaking with, “managed to hush it up. Bad for business, he said. Nothing in the papers or anything official-like.”

  What he was planning to do with the penguin once he’d arrived home was a mystery to me. And I was determined to leave it that way.

  “It’s very important…?” I looked enquiringly at him.

  “Oh, Neville, Miss. Neville Evans.”

  I gave him my most winning smile. “Well, Mr Evans, it’s very important that you tell us the gentleman’s name and where he lives.” I purposefully neglected to enquire his thoughts on the reason for this shenanigan.

  Luckily, as it was quite the common knowledge among the staff, I gained the required information (and felt he was possibly hoping to get more from myself in doing so).

  While he hid from the manager’s view, perhaps informing us more than the manager would have wished, I hurried back to Sir Percival and meaningfully looked at him from above the manager’s short stature. Their conversation that the manager seemed to be steering was about funding and what other animal exhibits the manager was hoping to acquire. Dry stuff.

  Looking inordinately relieved at my arrival Sir Percival profusely thanked the manager for his help and we speedily headed towards the exit, shadowed by the liaison. In the safety of the carriage and heading back down the Broadway I told both of them of my conversation with Neville. The liaison, with his back to the driver, banged on a panel behind him. It slid open and he conveyed our new destination to Wilkins for the unfortunate penguin-smuggler.

  Six

  Our destination was a boarding house that had seen better days. To my mind it looked rather like a decayed tooth between newer fresher buildings. Wilkins drove the carriage past on a roundish circuit so we’d come back to it after checking out its general vicinity. I noticed that it was on the same block as the Science and Natural History museums and noted their newest exhibits for possible viewing later (Department permitting).

  Wilkins stopped along the road to allay suspicion then took out a folded newspaper and started to read it to look like a cabbie having a rest between fares.

  We alighted and Sir Percival led the way to the boarding house. Knocking on the door produced a large lady in a flowery dress and hair in a severe bun. Sir Percival gave her a large smile as if she were a long-lost relative.

  “Dear lady,” he began.

  Although probably not having seen such a hairy man before she must have been used to men trying to butter her up as a scowl immediately took up residence on her craggy face.

  “What do you want?” she said sharply, her accent not helping curry any favours.

  “Would it be possible to come in and ask about a room?”

  Her eyes swept over us and the liaison who was examining the general area. She must have pegged him as being with us as she said, “I don’t let funny stuff go on in my house. I’ve got a reputation to uphold. Be off with you!”

  “Nothing of the sort–” Sir Percival began to protest.

  I felt we’d best get inside before making a scene and walked up to the lady and loudly whispered, “This is Lord Smythe, dear lady. A paragon of virtue. He’s just come back from an all night sitting of the House of Lords. Why, do you think he always looks as ruffled as this?”

  Owlishly she examined him, from his shiny brown leather shoes to his white hirsuteness. Something I said must have been familiar to her, or possibly the scent of money improved her disposition no end as a scary smile occupied her face and she ushered us inside.

  The flock-wallpapered hallway had a faint boiled cabbage smell and she led us past an empty reception room to a table with a large open book on it. The liaison closed the front door behind and stood to one side of it while she started interrogating us.

  “For how long did you wish to stay, Sir Smythe? Will your luggage be along later?” She looked at my pink hair with a raised eyebrow, “Will your… assistant be staying as well?”

  The sooner this ended the better.

  “We’re here after Tobias Grey,” I said.

  Her mouth snapped shut like a mousetrap and her eyes gained a flinty look.

  “I don’t know who you mean.”

  Then like a flowery Zeppelin under full power she moved towards us forcing us back towards the closed door. I saw the liaison pull something from inside his coat and hold it up so she could see it.

  “Huh! I should have known it was your lot,” she said disgustedly and stopped her forward motion.

  As I said, sometimes he could be very useful.

  “Let’s get this unpleasantness over with. Follow me.”

  She led the way to a staircase past the reception table and I made sure Sir Percival had the pleasure of following her large flowery behind.

  She quickly turned round to face him, “And no funny business.”

  I wished I could have seen his face as ‘funny business’ with her would be the furthest possible thing from his mind.

  She led the way up the gaslit stairs. All the doors I saw were closed, she probably had a working clientele who were currently occupied and would be back later. On the second floor she turned down the narrow hallway and led us to the door at the end.

  “Is he in?” Sir Percival asked quietly.

  She turned and fixed him with a steely glare, “No. I told him to sling his hook as soon as I heard about the incident. I don’t allow pets. The room is currently let out to Mr Birch. He’s at work so I’ll let you look around and then you can go and never darken my door again.”

  She took a ring of keys from out of a dress pocket and unlocked the door, then stood to one side making Sir Percival squeeze past her (oh, the happy memories of his face!)

  Successfully I navigated her into the room (thankfully she pulled her large self in for me) and turned to look back at the liaison. His stoic face seemed to be in some sort of staring match with the landlady who had an inscrutable smile on her own. I felt for the poor man. I really did
.

  I turned back to the room and left him to whatever fate he cared to face. Sir Percival was already poking around the room and examining Mr Birch’s meagre possessions, most of which seemed to be for Mrs Hardaker’s Patent Hair Growth Elixir. I couldn’t see Sir Percival needing any of that, but perhaps it was for future reference.

  A single bed shared the small room with a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. A water jug and bowl sat atop the drawers. By the bed was a small daguerreotype image of a severe-looking lady. Not knowing Mr Birch’s age I couldn’t surmise whether it was a sweetheart or his mother. A lone square mirror was the only decoration breaking up the orange flock wallpaper. Nothing in the room indicated the mind of the person that attacked last night’s exhibition. But I hoped to find at least something of use.

  The view from the window was that of the stark brick walls of the large buildings around us. A sliver of sky was visible if I stood close to the glass and looked upwards. Then I noticed that the room adjoined the larger building to the left. Was there some sort of connection? A wardrobe stood in the middle of the wall. Could something be there?

  Moving past Sir Percival who was close to giving up finding anything of use I examined the adjoining wall. The same wallpaper covered all four walls. Tapping it with my knuckles elicited no hollow echo. Peering behind the wardrobe I couldn’t see anything except shadow. I wasn’t finished though and glimpsed the increasingly impatient landlady. The liaison hadn’t apparently squeezed by her yet.

  “Help me with this,” I whispered to Sir Percival.

  He desultorily moved to the other side of the wardrobe and before the landlady could protest we’d shifted it away from the wall to reveal a man-sized wooden rectangle. Quickly I rapped on it and elicited a hollow sound.

  With a shared gleam of triumph we forced the wardrobe further from the wall and Sir Percival produced a small clasp knife from his coat. Striking the uncovered wood he managed to punch a hole in it. To the sounds of protest from the landlady he opened the knife out and stabbed the wood, pulling the blade towards him to increase the size of the hole. I heard loud shouting and felt someone else behind us, turning I saw the liaison had entered the room and was closing the door against the increasingly loud protests of the landlady. I caught the ‘hurry up’ look in his eyes and began pulling at the parts Sir Percival had already attacked.

  Splintered wood and torn wallpaper dropped to the floor as we feverishly enlarged the hole. As soon as it was large enough for me to enter I stepped over the bottom and squeezed into it letting the wooden splinters harmlessly attack my coat.

  Seven

  A dark room lay before me. Light from the room behind showed a path had been made between large boxes. It looked like a storage area.

  Behind me the hole was eventually enlarged enough for Sir Percival and the liaison to enter. Their entrance momentarily blocked the light but I was able to see a ghostly purple image of the boxes in front of me. Was this a remnant of the aether still inside me? It was useful as I was able to walk along the path while the two men blundered about behind me and the landlady shouted uncouth things about our parentage.

  The path led to a large windowless door that was closed. Trying the handle told me it was locked.

  “Where are we?” asked Sir Percival.

  “In what looks like a store-room. There’s a locked door in front of me.”

  Behind the men the light slowly decreased as the landlady pushed the wardrobe back into position. She’d probably get a dustpan and brush and clear our mess up afterwards. Luckily my purple sight made up for the lack of light and I smiled as I saw both men looking around helplessly.

  “Can we force the door?” Sir Percival asked.

  I considered the idea. It was probably one that wouldn’t be too strong as the designers would never have envisaged a lady and two gentlemen tying to exit the room. But forcing it may cause problems if Tok became aware of us. It behoved myself to open it as neither of my companions were able to see anything. I also felt it would be best not to mention my enhanced eyesight, especially in front of the liaison and also in case it proved short-lived. Perhaps I could try picking it?

  “May I borrow your knife, Sir Percival?”

  “Certainly.”

  He held it out pointing in roughly the direction of my voice and I took great delight in poking him about his body and apologising for my clumsiness as if pretending I couldn’t see a thing.

  Eventually I tired of the game and grabbed hold of his arm and felt my way up to his hand even though I could see it clearly. Taking the knife I turned and slid it into the lock hoping it would be a fairly straightforward process. Behind me the liaison and Sir Percival were silent so we could hear the muttered cursing and brushing sounds as the landlady cleaned the mess we’d created from Mr Birch’s room.

  Luckily the lock must have been as old as the Egyptian mummies on display as, after a short bit of waggling the knife around, it clicked open. I mentally patted myself on the back as I’d be able to escape from the room which was becoming fragrantly stuffy from the two men behind me. I gently turned the handle hoping it wouldn’t squeak and cracked the door open slightly. The light in the room increased but not as much as I’d have expected.

  Quietly I moved so I could peer through the crack. We must have been in a currently unused part of the Science museum as large angular exhibits were covered with tarpaulins to prevent them from getting dusty before being put on display.

  Not seeing anyone I opened the door further and stuck my head out. The sounds of muffled conversation and high childish voices came from further away. Behind me I heard Sir Percival and the liaison shuffle closer to the light and fresher air. The large high-ceilinged room was empty and I slid round the door and out. Both gentlemen quickly followed with the liaison quietly closing the door behind us. Now to find Tok.

  Eight

  Quickly I headed behind a large shrouded device and pulled my gun box from its coat pocket home. The box also contained a special set of goggles with clear polarized lenses – necessary for protection against my own weapon. I put the goggles on and felt a mite safer against murderous mechanical Rockhopper penguins with my gun in hand.

  I saw Sir Percival check his twin strangely-shaped pistols then replace one back in its holster, while the liaison loaded his revolver. Both of them put goggles on. Gun at the ready I led the way past the shrouded machines. Where would Tok be?

  As the room was currently unused I examined the floor and saw a faint trail in the dust leading away from the storeroom door. It was the only clue I had.

  Indicating it to Sir Percival we quietly followed it around the room to another closed door with a small sign on it indicating it led to the basement. Again this one was locked.

  Without a word Sir Percival handed me his clasp knife and, moving my gun on its long strap behind me, I opened it and wiggled the blade in the keyhole. The museum probably wasn’t expecting anyone to break out of a store-room nor want to examine their basement, so the lock (possibly from the same batch from Ancient Egypt) was relatively easy to pick.

  Opening the door a crack I looked in. Darkness met me, but I managed to see the start of a metal spiral staircase leading downwards. This could be a problem as cover would be scarce.

  “There’s a spiral staircase but no light,” I whispered to Sir Percival.

  “There’s nothing else for it, Miss Lovelady.”

  I nodded my consent and slipped past the door with Sir Percival and the liaison following closely behind. As quietly as possible we headed down the surprisingly warm staircase. My gun led the way pointing downwards. Luckily, even with my goggles on, my enhanced night vision was still working so I could see the base of the stairs below us where light leaked from another door, but also several booby-traps. All of the gaslights around the staircase had been capped and our footing had been made perilous by the removal of several metal steps. I whispered their positions to my colleagues after pretending to have stepped and failed to find my f
ooting.

  Eventually we safely gained the floor and I turned the door handle, happily finding it unlocked. Tok must have believed that anyone coming down wouldn’t be alive or at least severely injured.

  Gun in hand I cracked it open to receive a blast of warmer air and mechanical sounds. This must be where the heating system was for at least one museum. I peered inside and fear froze my marrow.

  Seeing my hesitation Sir Percival whispered, “What do you see, Miss Lovelady?”

  “Penguins,” I replied, horror-struck. “Thousands of them.”

  Well it probably wasn’t thousands but it certainly felt that way. Opening the door further I saw they were luckily not hopping around or spewing misty death from their beaks but packed into wooden crates with only the lids yet to be secured on top. If they were in crates then Tok was looking to send them somewhere? But where? And for what purpose?

  We slipped inside and hunkered down behind a waist-high crate filled with strangely unmoving blank-eyed penguins. Peering round and over the top I saw the room was vast and probably took up most of the basement. Large brick pillars supported the floors above. Further crates led to the right and left. Sounds of movement and voices came to us, but I couldn’t make out from where.

  The liaison indicated he’d spied something to his left. Still crouched down he moved to a further crate and I followed Sir Percival in his wake.

  Peering over the top of our new position I saw movement and brighter lights in the distance. I hoped this was Tok and that we had the element of surprise.

  “Someone’s coming!” whispered Sir Percival.

  I looked to where he was pointing and saw a figure jerkily heading towards our hiding place. Had our entrance not been as surreptitious as I’d hoped?

  Quickly we scurried past further crates of penguins away from the doorway, deeper into Tok’s territory. But with each move the figure followed, slowly gaining on us. I saw it was shaped as if wearing a bustled dress. Did Tok had a female assistant?