an odd fellow with them.’
‘Odd?’ said Mr Flynn.
‘Short, gives everyone the collywobbles.’
‘That’s Tock,’ whispered Julius.
‘Thank you, Clements,’ said Mr Flynn, handing over two sovereigns. ‘The Watchmakers will remember this.’
‘Goodnight, Mr Flynn, Higgins,’ said Clements, and he skittered back along the path.
Julius had lost his sense of place. They could have been on a Yorkshire moor, but for the stench of the tanneries. At the stable door, he lit several Lucifers so that Mr Flynn could see to pick the lock. Finally it opened with a satisfying click and they slipped into the dark yard and made their way along the side of the stable outhouse until they came to the first window.
Julius peeped through the corner of the dusty windowpane. The interior walls of the building had been demolished, leaving only the outer walls and the roof. Birdcages and candles hung from the ceiling. The candles lit the cavernous lair as far as the second floor—above that, only hints of the roof rafters could be discerned.
Julius carefully shifted his position to see the floor. There were floorboards, with strips of plaster and brick where walls had once stood. Pale rectangles lined the walls, ghosts of pictures long gone.
To the left, in the far corner, stood a table covered with beakers, test tubes and large glass bulbs, in a complex arrangement connected by rubbertubing. Their contents bubbled and steamed over gas burners. Another table was crammed with pots of orchids of all shapes and colours. Julius strained his eyes and peered through the dirty windowpane to get a better look.
‘What’s that in the birdcages?’ whispered Mr Flynn. ‘Are they rats?
‘I think so,’ Julius replied. ‘And there’s orchids in some of them.’
‘We’ve come to the right place, then,’ said Mr Flynn.
Julius crept to the next window. He poked his head up and leaned to the side to see the left wall, where there was a basic kitchen and a sleeping area.
Julius cleaned a circle in the glass to get a clearer view.
A tall man in a brown overcoat lay on a bunk. Another man, also wearing a brown overcoat, sat reading a newspaper. Julius recognised them immediately as the men in the hansom cab.
Mr Flynn cleaned a circle for himself ‘That’s Rapple and Baines,’ he whispered ‘No doubt about it.’
Julius and Mr Flynn watched them for some minutes. There was little to see until one of the bubbling bulbs boiled over. The man reading dropped his paper and hurried to the apparatus as the hissing steam rose up to the rafters.
‘Mr Rapple, Mr Rapple, wake up, it’s nearly ready,’ he said.
Rapple woke with a jolt. He stared at nothing for a few seconds as if he was trying to remember where he was. Then he swung around to sit on the edge of his bunk and watched Baines, who turned down the flame on the burner and adjusted the taps on the tubes.
The rats screeched and scurried around, making the birdcages sway on their chains.
Rapple stood up. ‘They’re getting excited,’ he said.
A loud rapping made them both turn.
‘Well done. You’ve gone and woken Abigail,’ said Baines.
Julius ducked down below the windowsill. He sneaked past the back door and came up at the next window.
He cleaned an eye-sized circle in the grime on the windowpane and looked through. He saw a dining table near the far wall. A stained lace tablecloth was spread over it. Two small dots of red light glowed in the dark corner behind the table.
The rapping noise sounded again.
Rapple jumped. He looked around as if he had lost something that desperately needed to be found.
Baines backed away.
‘Throw her something,’ said Rapple.
‘There’s nothing left.’
‘There must be.’
‘She’s had everything there is,’ said Baines, searching frantically under the one of the tables.
Rapple untied one of the suspended cages. ‘She can have one of these,’ he said.
‘Oi! We need that,’ said Baines.
The rat squealed and
‘Odd?’ said Mr Flynn.
‘Short, gives everyone the collywobbles.’
‘That’s Tock,’ whispered Julius.
‘Thank you, Clements,’ said Mr Flynn, handing over two sovereigns. ‘The Watchmakers will remember this.’
‘Goodnight, Mr Flynn, Higgins,’ said Clements, and he skittered back along the path.
Julius had lost his sense of place. They could have been on a Yorkshire moor, but for the stench of the tanneries. At the stable door, he lit several Lucifers so that Mr Flynn could see to pick the lock. Finally it opened with a satisfying click and they slipped into the dark yard and made their way along the side of the stable outhouse until they came to the first window.
Julius peeped through the corner of the dusty windowpane. The interior walls of the building had been demolished, leaving only the outer walls and the roof. Birdcages and candles hung from the ceiling. The candles lit the cavernous lair as far as the second floor—above that, only hints of the roof rafters could be discerned.
Julius carefully shifted his position to see the floor. There were floorboards, with strips of plaster and brick where walls had once stood. Pale rectangles lined the walls, ghosts of pictures long gone.
To the left, in the far corner, stood a table covered with beakers, test tubes and large glass bulbs, in a complex arrangement connected by rubbertubing. Their contents bubbled and steamed over gas burners. Another table was crammed with pots of orchids of all shapes and colours. Julius strained his eyes and peered through the dirty windowpane to get a better look.
‘What’s that in the birdcages?’ whispered Mr Flynn. ‘Are they rats?
‘I think so,’ Julius replied. ‘And there’s orchids in some of them.’
‘We’ve come to the right place, then,’ said Mr Flynn.
Julius crept to the next window. He poked his head up and leaned to the side to see the left wall, where there was a basic kitchen and a sleeping area.
Julius cleaned a circle in the glass to get a clearer view.
A tall man in a brown overcoat lay on a bunk. Another man, also wearing a brown overcoat, sat reading a newspaper. Julius recognised them immediately as the men in the hansom cab.
Mr Flynn cleaned a circle for himself ‘That’s Rapple and Baines,’ he whispered ‘No doubt about it.’
Julius and Mr Flynn watched them for some minutes. There was little to see until one of the bubbling bulbs boiled over. The man reading dropped his paper and hurried to the apparatus as the hissing steam rose up to the rafters.
‘Mr Rapple, Mr Rapple, wake up, it’s nearly ready,’ he said.
Rapple woke with a jolt. He stared at nothing for a few seconds as if he was trying to remember where he was. Then he swung around to sit on the edge of his bunk and watched Baines, who turned down the flame on the burner and adjusted the taps on the tubes.
The rats screeched and scurried around, making the birdcages sway on their chains.
Rapple stood up. ‘They’re getting excited,’ he said.
A loud rapping made them both turn.
‘Well done. You’ve gone and woken Abigail,’ said Baines.
Julius ducked down below the windowsill. He sneaked past the back door and came up at the next window.
He cleaned an eye-sized circle in the grime on the windowpane and looked through. He saw a dining table near the far wall. A stained lace tablecloth was spread over it. Two small dots of red light glowed in the dark corner behind the table.
The rapping noise sounded again.
Rapple jumped. He looked around as if he had lost something that desperately needed to be found.
Baines backed away.
‘Throw her something,’ said Rapple.
‘There’s nothing left.’
‘There must be.’
‘She’s had everything there is,’ said Baines, searching frantically under the one of the tables.
Rapple untied one of the suspended cages. ‘She can have one of these,’ he said.
‘Oi! We need that,’ said Baines.
The rat squealed and
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