of life. Then the shadows of its paws twitched; the unexpected movement so swift that Penelope couldn’t believe her eyes. She stepped back in shock, the black cloth falling from her shoulders as she suddenly straightened.
“Did you see that?” she gasped, staring at the spot where the stuffed squirrel stood. The animal was frozen in the same posture as before; its shadow now still. No hint of a movement could be seen.
“What do you mean?” Alfie asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.
But before Penny had a chance to explain, she heard the creak of the door opening and then the sound of a sudden exclamation.
“
Mon Dieu!
”
Standing framed in the doorway was an angry-looking man. His eyes blazed behind half-moon glasses as he stepped into the room. With his dark cropped hair and sharp-cornered beard, Penelope recognised him immediately. It was the man she had seen storming from the offices of the Alchemical Moving Picture Company only days before.
“
Les voleurs
,” he spat, advancing on Alfie with a snarl.
As Alfie backed away, the man snatched up the razor from the table, brandishing it before him like a knife. Penny looked on in horror, torn between the urge to escape and the need to rescue her friend. Backed into the corner of the room, the space between Alfie and the man was narrowing with every second.
“Stop,” she cried. “We’re not thieves. I just want to know who you are.”
The man turned towards Penny, his dark eyes narrowing as they fixed on her face.
“You know who I am,” he snarled, his words smeared with a thick French accent. “That’s why that film-making thief has sent you to steal what is mine. Well, it’s not going to work this time.”
With a swish of his blade, he turned back towards Alfie with a murderous intent. Trapped, the printer’s assistant called out with a desperate plea.
“Penny!”
Next to her, the camera squatted on its tripod. All thoughts of the strange shadow she had glimpsed through its lens were for a moment forgotten as Penelope struggled to wrench the box free.
“Wait!” she shouted. “Is this what you think we came for?”
Seeing the camera in her hands, the man stopped in his tracks.
“Give it to me,” he snapped.
“Let my friend go,” Penelope replied, her face set in an implacable expression. “Otherwise I’ll take care of this.”
The man sneered as he watched Penny struggling to keep her grip on the camera, its cumbersome weight heavy in her hands.
“You won’t get very far carrying that.”
“Maybe not,” Penny replied, hefting the camera from one hand to the next, “but I can smash it to smithereens.”
The camera wobbled precariously and the man’s face darkened with the sudden realisation that Penny meant what she said.
“Now drop the razor and let us go.”
Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, the man’s eyes blazed with rage. For a moment, he held Penelope’s gaze as if challenging her to go through with her threat, then his fingers twitched and the razor fell to the carpet.
“Get out.”
Keeping his eyes fixed on the camera, the man watched as she slowly backed away to the door, Alfie hurrying to her side. As they reached the threshold, the man raised his hand in warning.
“The camera,” he reminded her.
Penny looked down at the unwieldy box in her hands. The camera lens stared back at her, an inscrutable eye jutting from the dulled lustre of its brass mounting.
“Catch,” she said.
With a heave of her arms, she launched the device towards the Frenchmen. As he dived to save the camera with an anguished howl, Penny grabbed hold of Alfie’s arm.
“Run!”
They fled, their footsteps clattering down the hall as behind them the man let fly a volley of unintelligible curses. Alfie barged the front door open, Penelope hurrying close behind, not allowing the swish of her long skirt to slow her for a second. Outside on the street, the sun beat down, the few passers-by walking at a stately pace, but Penny and
“Did you see that?” she gasped, staring at the spot where the stuffed squirrel stood. The animal was frozen in the same posture as before; its shadow now still. No hint of a movement could be seen.
“What do you mean?” Alfie asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.
But before Penny had a chance to explain, she heard the creak of the door opening and then the sound of a sudden exclamation.
“
Mon Dieu!
”
Standing framed in the doorway was an angry-looking man. His eyes blazed behind half-moon glasses as he stepped into the room. With his dark cropped hair and sharp-cornered beard, Penelope recognised him immediately. It was the man she had seen storming from the offices of the Alchemical Moving Picture Company only days before.
“
Les voleurs
,” he spat, advancing on Alfie with a snarl.
As Alfie backed away, the man snatched up the razor from the table, brandishing it before him like a knife. Penny looked on in horror, torn between the urge to escape and the need to rescue her friend. Backed into the corner of the room, the space between Alfie and the man was narrowing with every second.
“Stop,” she cried. “We’re not thieves. I just want to know who you are.”
The man turned towards Penny, his dark eyes narrowing as they fixed on her face.
“You know who I am,” he snarled, his words smeared with a thick French accent. “That’s why that film-making thief has sent you to steal what is mine. Well, it’s not going to work this time.”
With a swish of his blade, he turned back towards Alfie with a murderous intent. Trapped, the printer’s assistant called out with a desperate plea.
“Penny!”
Next to her, the camera squatted on its tripod. All thoughts of the strange shadow she had glimpsed through its lens were for a moment forgotten as Penelope struggled to wrench the box free.
“Wait!” she shouted. “Is this what you think we came for?”
Seeing the camera in her hands, the man stopped in his tracks.
“Give it to me,” he snapped.
“Let my friend go,” Penelope replied, her face set in an implacable expression. “Otherwise I’ll take care of this.”
The man sneered as he watched Penny struggling to keep her grip on the camera, its cumbersome weight heavy in her hands.
“You won’t get very far carrying that.”
“Maybe not,” Penny replied, hefting the camera from one hand to the next, “but I can smash it to smithereens.”
The camera wobbled precariously and the man’s face darkened with the sudden realisation that Penny meant what she said.
“Now drop the razor and let us go.”
Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, the man’s eyes blazed with rage. For a moment, he held Penelope’s gaze as if challenging her to go through with her threat, then his fingers twitched and the razor fell to the carpet.
“Get out.”
Keeping his eyes fixed on the camera, the man watched as she slowly backed away to the door, Alfie hurrying to her side. As they reached the threshold, the man raised his hand in warning.
“The camera,” he reminded her.
Penny looked down at the unwieldy box in her hands. The camera lens stared back at her, an inscrutable eye jutting from the dulled lustre of its brass mounting.
“Catch,” she said.
With a heave of her arms, she launched the device towards the Frenchmen. As he dived to save the camera with an anguished howl, Penny grabbed hold of Alfie’s arm.
“Run!”
They fled, their footsteps clattering down the hall as behind them the man let fly a volley of unintelligible curses. Alfie barged the front door open, Penelope hurrying close behind, not allowing the swish of her long skirt to slow her for a second. Outside on the street, the sun beat down, the few passers-by walking at a stately pace, but Penny and
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