In spite of all yesterday's activities (or more likely because of them), Benton seemed unable to sleep last night. He slipped out into the other room, and when I stirred to see what was afoot, I found him plying his flatirons over several already perfectly smooth and crisp shirts and collars. When I asked why he was doing this, he replied somewhat sheepishly that it helps him think and relax. I naturally wanted to offer what comfort I could, as any good helpmeet must, so I gave him one of my petticoats, suggesting just the lightest application of starch. I went back to bed and left him to it. As I drifted to sleep, I could hear him talking to Turgenov in what I believe is the Chukchi language, though Turgenov seemed to be ignoring him and sleeping.

Benton seemed not much the worse as we rose to face the new day, so I must presume that his nocturnal ironing helped him settle his mind. How nice to know that all those calico flounces are good for something.

Most of the day thus far has been consumed with a tedious gathering of information. I have taken copious notes, as so much of the information has been confused, overlapping or contradicting, from sources of various reliability. I know that everything I hear, every question I ask, might have to be reported to various of my colleagues. We have not traveled everywhere en masse today, which makes it much easier to accomplish anything useful, but then requires periodic briefings. I am not certain that all of my colleagues will remember to tell me everything that they have learned without me. I can only hope that by the end of the day I will have some useful picture of events and persons which threaten our peace and Miss Chigwidgeon's wedding.

The sources of information examined so far:
1) dreams and visions offered by Mrs Cuthbert
2) description by Lady Ffolkes of the papers found at Goxhill Grange
3) brief report by Mr Weasley regarding the Wroth case
4) interrogation of Proctor Xanthus at Goxhill Manor
5) interviews with Hornsea townspeople regarding Mr Jokking's murder on Saturday last, conducted by Mr Frazer, Miss Whitnell, and myself.

We managed our exercises by going riding, out some distance from the house, to where we could work unobserved by other guests. Even our partisans with broken bones (Mr O'Flaherty and Inspector MacGregor) have endeavoured to keep their condition as good as may be by participating.

After our exercises and breakfast, we were visited by Mr Andrew Earwig, who is the Coroner in Hornsea. Naturally, this caused concern for all of us who know of Mr Earwig's great animosity toward Sir Cosmo. He was perfectly civil, though, when he presented summons to Sir Cosmo, Inspector MacGregor, Mr Frazer, and myself. He was very considerate in telling the Inspector that in view of his injuries, he could send his statement via Mr Frazer and could be excused from attending the inquest in person. Mr Earwig also had a summons for Wilhelmina, for some reason.

Mr Earwig also informed us that the Deputy Chief Constable for East Yorkshire, a Mr George Bland, would be coming in to supervise the investigation of Mr Jokking's death himself. I was pleased when first I heard this, as I thought that a disinterested outsider might counteract the prejudices of Mr Earwig, and perhaps alleviate the accusations of partiality which will surely emerge from having the ranking investigator (Inspector MacGregor) known as a friend to the leading suspect. Imagine my dismay when I learned that this Mr Bland is the son of the train engineer who perished in the Letchworth accident. The circumstances are not at all to my liking.

While Mr Frazer was closeted with the Inspector, receiving his instructions, I sat with the other ladies and listened to a lengthy description of Mrs Cuthbert's dream.

She told us about watching as Jerrold Moriarty and Iota the Monkey held a debate about…well, I'm not exactly sure. Something about offspring and ancestors, and resource allocation. There was some long-winded business about the garden of Eden and Iota's ancestors. Even in a dream that little beast is a pompous bore.

In the dream Mrs Cuthbert saw a diagram of the Moriarty family tree, featuring Wilhelmina, George, and also Edward separately, off in another branch. This makes little sense to me.

In another scene, she saw two different men, unknown to her, who appeared to be making clockwork machines and plotting to blow up some stone building, possibly the church in Goxhill. These dreams are not clear information, but may direct Mrs Cuthbert's scrying in useful directions, as has been the case in the past. She has promised to contemplate further, and may be able to offer something more useful later in the day.

We next received some much clearer intelligence from Mr Weasley and from Lady Ffolkes.

The first informed us that upon investigation of the Wroth household, at least one person there had some sort of tampering to his memory. This hardly comes as a surprise, and unfortunately the exact nature of the tampering was not clear. It is possible that someone had to be tampered with because
a) someone witnessed something which would cast doubt on the scenario of Sir Cosmo as murderer, or
b) an accomplice within the household was needed, and no voluntary accomplice was available. We can hope that if the tampering can be reversed, helpful testimony may come to light. Considering the stories we have heard this morning...but I get ahead of myself.

The next reports came from Lady Ffolkes, who has been overseeing the sifting of evidence from Goxhill Grange and from the seaside house where Inspector MacGregor, Mr Frazer, and I were held captive. She had discovered copies of reports which she readily identified as coming from Foreign Office and the Home Office. These feature detailed information about Mr Jokking, Mr Earwig, and even DCC Bland. This corroborated yesterday's gloating by Xanthus regarding an ability to tamper with files at the Home Office.

Before long, Sir Cosmo came in and said that he was planning to interrogate Proctor Xanthus, with the assistance of Mrs Godwin and Mr Moody. Xanthus's personality was still contained in Mrs Godwin's little sphere, and according to her he was thus constrained to answer truthfully.

I waited outside the room, but I could still hear most of the questions and the corresponding answers. Xanthus confirmed and expanded upon several of the theories we have formulated thus far.

We asked about his confederates and were happy to hear that almost all the conspirators in this area are accounted for. The exception seems to be a messenger, the person who delivered the parcel of documents from the train to Master Tandu (the incident Miss Whitnell observed early yesterday morning)

We questioned him at some length about the source of his information from inside the Foreign Office. I carefully recorded his statements, though the critical points are that Xanthus doesn't actually know the person's identity and some indication that this person has a much broader plot afoot. Xanthus does not seem to grasp that his "Mysterious Benefactor" has been using him as a pawn.

Xanthus confirmed that he was the person in widow's clothing at the Hornsea Post last Saturday, though on some occasions his confederate Mr Percival St Simon also wore this disguise.

When asked what plan he had made in case of capture, Xanthus told us that he had a plan in which his "lover" would rescue him. When pressed for details, he described the lover in very intimate terms obviously intended to shock us and divert our questioning. The salient matter, however, was that this person has considerable skill in disguise. From the intimate description, this person is male, but routinely appears in female guise. If this person is as talented in disguise as Xanthus insists, he can probably elude our notice, but if we catch a suspicious interloper, we can probably identify him fairly positively by removing the disguising clothing and cosmetics.

I must add, though, that considering Xanthus's demonstrated ability to choose unreliable allies, his lover might well simply take over the North African Operations and leave Xanthus to languish in the custody of the Crown. Not that I won't be vigilant.

After this long session of questioning, Mrs Godwin and the other Mystics, with the agreement of Sir Cosmo, put Xanthus back into his own body so he might be presented at the Inquest should that prove expedient. They also devised a plan to put some kind of illusion over Xanthus to make him resemble Sir Cosmo, the better to promote the idea the all the reported sightings of Sir Cosmo at the Hornsea Post were really Xanthus in disguise. I personally think that this will only create a worse muddle, but Sir Cosmo and others seem to think that this muddle will serve our purposes.

I left the vicinity as the Mystics were preparing for their various procedures and went in search of my husband.

Mr Frazer was just completing his discussion with poor Inspector MacGregor (who had to write his part of the conversation on a little slate). Miss Whitnell joined us shortly as well.

We reported to them the various facts and opinions gleaned from the Xanthus interrogation, as well as the other reports of the morning.

We determined to complete our interviews of witnesses in Hornsea. Lord Greyminster kindly loaned us one of his carriages and a coachman, and we set off in good order. Our first stop was to a Mr MacPhail, the proprietor of the only chips stand in Hornsea. We ate the best fish I have ever tasted while we questioned our man.

We questioned not only Mr MacPhail, but also the baker and his apprentice. Each of these told us of seeing Sir Cosmo (identifying him clearly and by name), and most also described a young girl with him. What proved more surprising was that after some prodding, both the chips man and the baker indicated some confusion and the baker completely changed his story.

Our interview with the baker's boy suggested that the neighbourhood drunkard may have seen something relevant to our case. We determined to find the man and question him, but as we emerged from the Bakery, we were met in the street by Deputy Chief Constable Bland. He took a very high tone with us, and tried to make us give up our questioning of witnesses. Fortunately, my husband is a master of honest obfuscation, and convinced DCC Bland that he was obeying the letter and the spirit of his summons to the Inquest by preparing to give complete testimony.

Which is how we came to be escorted to the Hornsea Courthouse and Gaol where we spoke to a Mr Patrick Neligan, the drunkard mentioned by the boy. He had witnessed the actual murder from an adjoining attic. He described the perpetrators as a person dressed in the clothing of a widow, and a young girl, also in mourning. He heard these two in discussion with Mr Jokking, and saw the girl use what was certainly an etheric pulse weapon to kill Mr Jokking. He saw them set up and run the press, and fled while the press was making noise enough to disguise his movements.

When we had concluded this interview, we returned to the High Street to continue our canvassing. We spoke to all the remaining shopkeepers in the vicinity of the Hornsea Post. Oddly, now all of them told us of seeing the tall figure in heavy mourning accompanied by a young girl. All of them had apparently been questioned earlier by DCC Bland, and had all told of seeing Sir Cosmo in the Goxhill carriage, but now were changing their accounts, saying that they must have got the days mixed up.

Miss Whitnell observed to us (privately) that this change might have something to do with an earlier passage of a donkey cart carrying Mother Hempseed and Nanny Chigwidgeon. Miss Whitnell had indicated that the first 3 we spoke to (before we visited the Gaol) had all had subtle and non-magical adjustments to their minds, which seemed to "untwist" during our prodding questions. All of the people we questioned after our visit to the gaol had no adjustments evident to Miss Whitnell's scrutiny.

I found it very peculiar that even when the illusion of Sir Cosmo was removed from the "Widow," the child remained. The description suggests a significant resemblance to Wilhelmina. So, there would appear to be a real child posing as Wilhelmina. Who knows enough about Wilhelmina's existence and association with Sir Cosmo to create this illusion? Why not impersonate Edward, who is a far more conspicuous member of Sir Cosmo's household? Does the culprit know of the relationship of Edward and Wilhelmina?

What about the footprint found at the scene? It now becomes clear that it is a deliberate attempt to incriminate either Edward or Wilhelmina. I had thought at first that it really was Edward's footprint, but it is larger than Edward's foot, and yet smaller than George's. Is it a complete fraud, or is there another child with the same peculiar feet?

It was nearly time for the inquest. We stopped at the chips stand once more for some lunch before we proceeded to the Courthouse.
We have met the rest of our party here, including Sir Cosmo, Lord Greyminster, and Mr Beazley (Lord Greyminster's barrister) , who has been engaged to represent the interests of Sir Cosmo in this case. Also present is Wilhelmina, who had contrived to be seen coming into Goxhill on the train this morning.

Now we are all waiting amid the crush of the eager crowd as Mr Earwig selects the panel. I confess to some anxiety about being summoned. I find this entire case so full of unpredictable and unbelievable stories, I am not certain if even I can keep the stories straight. I shall review my notes and also endeavour to keep my answers direct and short.

Tuesday 10 January, 1871
(continued, evening)

We have survived another day, and today no one has any newly-broken bones, no one has had any brushes with death. Though we still have 10 minutes until midnight, so we could yet fit in a disaster...

I will proceed from where I left off, at the Inquest...

We were called to testify in an orderly manner. Mr Earwig was much more even-handed than I would have expected.

Once I was called, I found it simple to give my answers to Mr Earwig's questions, as they all involved the evidence we found at the scene. The only really unpleasant point was when I was asked about Mr Neligan's testimony. I was asked if I knew of a child who matched Mr Neligan's description. I thought this a very inappropriate question, as Mr Neligan had already pointed to Wilhelmina and identified her. What could I add to that? From the description alone, there would be hundreds of children to match. The question was obviously designed to force me to incriminate Wilhelmina. But, since Mr Neligan had already done the damage, I thought I would serve the cause best by answering directly and making no fuss about it. To equivocate or qualify would only create the appearance of evasion. I did have to diverge from Mr Neligan's identification on one point, though–he had characterised the child he saw as having an "angelic face." I could hardly let that by. Wilhelmina is hardly angelic in any way, unless one considers that even Lucifer is of angelic origin.

When each of the many tradespeople of Hornsea were called to the stand, Every one described the unmarked carriage, the widow, and the child, instead of the Greyminster carriage, Sir Cosmo, and the child. This certainly put DCC Bland out of countenance. He insisted that all of them be recalled, and remonstrated with them about this mass deviation from the earlier accounts. No doubt he believes that all these people have been bribed or coerced.

The greatest upset to the case against Sir Cosmo, however, proved to be the production of Xanthus, which was introduced by Sir Cosmo's testimony that the villain had made a confession.

Xanthus was put on the stand and seemed fully prepared to deny everything, but the omnipresent Nanny Chigwidgeon happened to enter the court at that point, and oh-so-innocently stumbled in just such a way as to brush against Xanthus. She somehow imposed upon him a rule of truth. He answered every question put to him, though he was obviously struggling not to speak. He quickly incriminated himself thoroughly, telling of Mr Jokking's murder and the captivity of Sir Charles Fernly and the Goxhill Grange household. He also said he had had an accomplice posing as Miss Wilhelmina, and he mentioned a name–"Nottesh," or something similar.

By the end of his testimony, Xanthus had convinced the panel that he was responsible for Mr Jokking's death, and he was sent off with Mr Moody to London. I don't know that the entire public will be convinced of Sir Cosmo's innocence, or of Wilhelmina's, but things are looking better.

Meanwhile, a new difficulty has arisen with the not-quite-simultaneous presence of Edward and Wilhelmina.

Emily doesn't know the secret, and Wilhelmina is absolutely adamant that she should not, observing (accurately) that Emily babbles when she is discomposed.

The paradox of this is that Emily is most unnerved when she lacks clear instructions. And how are we to give her clear instructions about whom she is to guard without revealing the secret? If we tell her to guard Wilhelmina, she will likely ignore Edward and go off searching for Wilhelmina. If she has not caught on to the secret yet, I don't think she ever will.

Miss Whitnell defined Emily's task thus: she is to guard whichever of the children she can see. She concocted the rather weak explanation that Wilhelmina hides very well, and if she is hidden she is perfectly safe and need not be guarded. Emily has accepted this without particular question. We can only hope that it is simple enough to prevent Emily from becoming confused and distracted.

I am quite at my wits' end with Emily and her fits and fears. Yet when I am tempted to speak harshly to her, I remember that only Monday she preserved the lives of Turgenov and Mr Frazer, and has earned my gratitude many times over.

My resolve to maintain the secret has been severely tested, and Wilhelmina's demeanour toward me has not improved my temper one bit. I am weary of the absurd stories and contortions to maintain this unnecessary fiction.

It is with great effort that I have withdrawn from argument on this topic and attempted to make peace with Edward and Wilhelmina by assisting with the continuing frantic work to finish Miss Chigwidgeon's wedding present. My efforts to ameliorate its more outre features have come to naught, but I suppose that Miss Chigwidgeon will find them delightful.

One of the parlours has been set aside to receive the enormous influx of gifts for the couple. Mr Frazer and I have added our modest gift of matched writing sets engraved with their initials and wedding date. This gift looks rather tiny beside the glittering array of saltcellars, butter trays, platters, cutlery, crystal…but I dare to hope that our friends will be able to derive daily use and enjoyment from our gifts—unlike the fifteen gaudy jewel cases stacked up on the table.

We had yet another dinner party. I was so fortunate as to be seated across from Lord Shaftesbury. I have long been and admirer of this man's Reform work. Such compassion combined with such energy is so rare among the titled. We had a general discussion about the progress of the Society for the Support of Mothers and Infants. Naturally, a detailed discussion of the cause would not be suitable dinner conversation, being much too distressing.

I learned that Lord Greyminster has taken up a new hobby. He has decided to publish a newspaper: the Goxhill Gazette. He says he has always thought that Goxhill should have its own paper, and the recent situation with the hostility of the Hornsea Post only spurred him to what he had contemplated anyhow. He was overseeing the unloading of the press this morning at the train station, and has no doubt been pestering his new staff all day.

Wednesday, 11 January, 1871
(evening)

We made very little progress on our investigations today. Mrs Cuthbert reported another vision which featured Madam Brody, Wilhelmina's mother. Her vision suggested that this annoying woman was somehow involved with a further plot against Sir Cosmo and the League. She had very little information that we could pursue. The vision involved a particular dress, and the best we could do with that was ask Sir Anthony to employ his researchers to find a dressmaker who had recently constructed such a gown. Mrs Cuthbert and Miss Whitnell attempted to refine the information, but could only learn that these conspirators are operating somewhere in Yorkshire.

The primary use of our time today was dress fittings. The dresses we bridesmaids will be asked to wear are fortunately fairly tasteful. The exception was the dress Wilhelmina will wear. It featured a remarkable excess of flounces, ribbons, lace and tra la la.

I felt obliged to speak to the dressmaker regarding her lack of discretion about the pockets of Wilhelmina's dress. I suppose she had no choice but to reveal their existence when asked at the Inquest, but there was no call for her to treat the whole matter like juicy gossip. I just hope she won't leave a pin in my armscye to spite me.

Guests continue to pour into Goxhill. I was pleased to see our Graves, along with others from Charles Street: Mrs Whitnell, Miss Betty Whitnell, Mr Chadwick, Also Miss Chigwidgeon's father and stepmother arrived this morning. It is apparent that Miss Chigwidgeon will gain a small brother or sister in the near future. Mr Fong Chigwidgeon and Mr Nigel Templeton also arrived—I almost didn't recognise them, I have so rarely seen them in morning clothes.

I spent the afternoon helping Edward and George with the brazing of Miss Chigwidgeon's surprise. It is perhaps of less general importance than solving the question of the Malefactor, but it was satisfying to work on a project with concrete results.

As Benton and I dressed for dinner, and I was brushing the smell of the foundry out of my hair, we conversed about our future living arrangements.

On Sunday, when I had just learned of our impending Parenthood, my first thought was that we must make our own place, our own nest or den. I had asked him how long his tenants' lease had to run, thinking of taking up residence in his family home.

In the last few days, I have been re-thinking that idea. After all, the same considerations which led us to take rooms at #12 still apply: The house is an inconvenient distance from his work and mine; the expense of living in a large house would be considerable; we would lose the income from the lease. Benton assures me that we could cope with all of these concerns if I wished to live in our own house.

Aside from that, though, I am increasingly certain that if I were to live in such a house, just myself and a baby all day, while Benton was off at his work, I should probably lose my mind in very short order.

Mrs Cuthbert seems willing, indeed eager, to have a baby about. I could probably benefit from her guidance, if I can swallow my pride enough to hear her advice. I could continue at least some of my work, with other persons whom I trust nearby to help with the baby and to keep life interesting.

I don't know if Sir Cosmo will object to my continuing my duties as tutor with my babe-in-arms. Benton seems convinced that Sir Cosmo would not consider me unfitted for work by the achievement of Motherhood. I'm not quite ready to ask him directly, it is still too early.

Thursday, 12 January 1871

Today we made up for our yesterday's relative inactivity by running about madly.

With some difficulty we did an abbreviated version of our exercises—there are too many guests about for us to disappear without anyone noticing.

We also spent some time presenting Miss Chigwidgeon with her gift from Edward. She was delighted.

Mr Frazer and I went out with Miss Whitnell and Mrs Cuthbert as they sought further information about the False Wilhelmina. Despite he fact that the Hornsea Post offices had been "cleansed" by Mrs Earwig, they still thought the best chance of mystical tracking would be the site of the footprint.

Since Mrs Earwig is such an admirer of Mrs Cuthbert, we all thought it expedient to approach her about getting in to the Hornsea Post offices, rather than speaking to her husband, the landlord. Mrs Earwig was very obliging, even going so far as to help Mrs Cuthbert and Miss Whitnell perform their rituals. Mrs Cuthbert was making such a grimacing and rolling of the eyes when Mrs Earwig wasn't looking at her, I thought I would lose my composure and start laughing at any moment.

I could not enter the building while the Mystics were at work there, so I loitered outside with Mr Frazer and Sir Spencer. Before too long, we saw someone approaching: Mr Lawrence Oliphant, the journalist. I have been reading some of Mr Oliphant's reporting of the Jokking Inquest. Aside from a very cheeky description of me ("notorious naturalist" indeed!), his stories seem to be reasonable and fair to Sir Cosmo and the rest of us.

I had seen Mr Oliphant at Lord Sidcup's party on Sunday last, and unlike the odious Mr Hawkesworth, he had an invitation and displayed the manners of a gentleman. I have read other stories by Mr Oliphant, and he seems intelligent. When we were on the Continent, he was there as well, and wrote a story about the explosion in Antwerp which very nicely obscured our roles in the business. The Marquis had mentioned that he once worked for the Foreign Office, and that he had left under a cloud of some sort. His reporting has seemed helpful to us, but what are his motives?

He came to us today and obliquely suggested that he knew what we were doing in the investigations regarding Xanthus and the Anti-Cowperthwaite conspiracy. I found his sly and knowing demeanour quite repellent. Nevertheless, his hinted suggestions might be of use:

1) investigate the antecedents of Mr Richard Hawkesworth—it seems fairly likely that he has a personal grudge against Sir Cosmo, like everyone else we've crossed.

2) determine the source of funding for the purchases made by Xanthus and all the other expenses of this operation. This may prove difficult, considering that Xanthus himself has been trying to learn the Malefactor's identity and has been unable to do so.

Eventually Mr Oliphant took his leave and eventually the Mystics completed their researches. They had seen a child, a boy, who looked quite exactly like Edward. They had traced his movements backward and forward from the incident at the Hornsea Post offices. They found that this boy also has habits and capabilities remarkably similar to Edward's.

Their scrying, in combination with various recent visions of Mrs Cuthbert's, have suggested that this impostor Edward is assisting with a plot to construct an analysis engine and possibly a huge cannon similar to that we destroyed outside Metz. He may be working with the eccentric inventor Thomas Dower, who was also involved with an earlier adventure of Sir Cosmo's, and who had been supposed to be in the custody of the Foreign Office, but who has gone missing.

On our way home, we saw one of the other Goxhill carriages tearing along in the other direction. As it sped by, we could just make out Sir Cosmo, Sir Charles Fernly, and a few others I couldn't see clearly. Sir Cosmo was gesticulating wildly as he saw us, but we were uncertain as to whether it meant "follow" or not. It looked like a serious situation, so we decided to follow. It took some time to turn the carriage and get ourselves to Goxhill Grange.

When we arrived, what a sight greeted us! Edward and Sir Charles had rushed inside and had set up in one of the Laboratories. Humphrey was apparently in some serious danger and they were struggling to revive him.

Sitting to one side, bound up, with Salmalin standing over him, was Edward. Another Edward. He was loudly expostulating that the other was not the real Edward. I could tell that this one was the impostor, though, by a difference in scent, and an almost indistinguishable difference in voice.

We learned from Salmalin that this impostor had crept into the house, tricked George long enough to knock him out with chloroform, and was attempting the same on the real Edward when the real Edward awakened to the danger. The scuffle drew Salmalin, who was not fooled by the ruse and subdued the impostor.

Unfortunately, the impostor had already damaged Humphrey with some kind of electrical device, which resulted in the headlong rush for the equipment and supplies at the Grange.

As it turned out, Sir Cosmo had NOT been trying to signal us to follow, but rather to proceed to Goxhill Manor. Oh, Well. After some discussion, we decided that Mrs Cuthbert would stay and attempt to learn more about the false Edward.

Miss Whitnell, Mr Frazer and I would return to the Manor, as we were concerned that this entire uproar was designed to draw all or some of us away from the Manor, either to attack us outside the Manor's defenses, or to attack the large number of unsuspecting high-ranking guests who were milling about the Manor without us.

As we made our way back on the road, Miss Whitnell determined to try again to locate the mass of metal which we suspected might be about, either in the form of a cannon or as an analysis engine.

Unfortunately, the ritual she attempted went wrong somehow, and resulted in the animation of a number of normally quiescent machines.

A most dramatic manifestation of this erupted out of the carriage house as we approached the Manor: The ornate diving suit was clanking its way out into the yard under its own power. Just behind it, a clockwork gig emerged and rattled its way down the road. I could hear metallic rattlings all around, especially from the house, punctuated by curses and shrieks of alarm.
Sir Spencer rushed off down the road to try to catch the gig before it might run some unsuspecting farmer down.

With Mr O'Flaherty's assistance, I took on the Sinkable Namaste myself, hoping that either my magic-distorting qualities would slow it down or that I would simply be able to use the controls to quiet it. It was slightly tricky to get inside it while it was moving. Mr O'Flaherty gave me a boost and I clambered into the seat—after only a few moments of awkward dangling. The machine came to a halt the moment I touched the controls.

I learned shortly that even objects as simple as egg beaters had begun to move about of their own accord, much to the alarm of the kitchen staff. Miss Whitnell told me that the numerous magical persons in this neighbourhood had all assisted in suppressing the phenomenon. I imagine the residents will all be relieved when we and our assorted chaos take our leave of this vicinity.

Once we had settled that, it was time to proceed to the wedding rehearsal. This wedding is certainly elaborate! Even this rehearsal was preceded by tea hosted by the ladies of the parish. Fortunately, they had supplied many trays of comestibles, as I was feeling ravenous. No one else seemed as hungry as I was. Several of the trays were virtually untouched, including some delicious egg salad with morsels of some kind of smoked fish–having this mixture spread on chocolate biscuits was an unexpected stroke of culinary genius, but even my usually adventurous friends wouldn't even try it.

During the actual rehearsal with the Reverend Pottle, Mrs Cuthbert was apparently taken by some sort of vision, because she made a loud exclamation, then told us that she knew the enemy's plan in regards to Madam Brody. The whole plan was to have Madam Brody interrupt the ceremony by claiming that she was already married to Sir Cosmo, and producing a marriage certificate to "prove" it. The impostor Edward was expected to be in Wilhelmina's place to loudly confirm this claim as well.
All this would be duly recorded and reported by Mr Hawkesworth, who appears to be participating in this plot as will.

While these claims could eventually be disproved, they would certainly cause embarrassment, bad publicity, and a delay in the marriage. Someone is going to a great deal of trouble just to embarrass and disgrace Sir Cosmo. Who is planning to benefit by all this?

Nothing would do but we should find Madam Brody and whichever of her compatriots we could and subdue them before morning.

We reasoned that the woman must be nearby, in Goxhill or in Hornsea, so as to be on hand for tomorrow's plan. Wilhelmina reasoned that Madam Brody would certainly insist on being kept in the best hotel in the area. This was the Victoria Arms, owned by that ubiquitous landlord, Mr Earwig.

We called once again on Mrs Earwig. She was happy to assist us, and came with us to the Victoria Arms to help us find our villains.

Several of our party, including myself, Mr Frazer, and Mrs Cuthbert, were positioned outside the building while the others (Sir Cosmo, Miss Chigwidgeon, Miss Whitnell, Sir Spencer, and strangely, Miss Chigwidgeon's great-grandmother) prepared to corner the prey.

I understand that Madam Brody and her companion were not expecting company, and consequently were captured easily. Unfortunately, the gentleman had been placed under some mystical compulsion which destroyed his mental faculties when he was captured, so he can provide us with no information. This man was Mr Thomas Mannering, the younger of the two Mannering brothers who were on Xanthus's short list of possible traitors from the Foreign Office.

Miss Whitnell has cleverly cut the hair of the boy Natesh, so he will have more difficulty fooling the unwary into thinking that he is Edward (or Wilhelmina). Mrs Cuthbert seems quite determined to understand this boy, and whether he has been compelled to his recent actions by magic or hypnogogic persuasion or some such thing.

Frankly, the child gives me the horrors. Having one Edward (or one Wilhelmina) running about causing trouble is bad enough. Now we have another, who appears to have considerably less moral fibre. It is starting to look like the Moriarty plan has been to deliberately breed these hyper-intelligent, ultra-agile children, and carefully cultivate any lawlessness they might be prone to. Such plans are certain to go awry eventually. Egomaniacs like "the Cobb" are all too prone to complex plots which have unlooked-for nasty consequences. The callous disregard for children's lives is so grotesque, so despicable…if I could meet the Cobb today, I would certainly spit in his eye.

I expect the first dinner bell at any moment, and Mr Frazer is still off in conference with Sir Sebastian. He will probably be too hurried to dress to discuss my current ponderings when he returns, so I will note them here for later:

--What does he know about Mr Oliphant? I am very interested to know what sort of "cloud" caused him to leave the Foreign Office, and how much we can trust his information or his motives.

--If the mysterious high-placed Malefactor is really behind all these very strange conspiracies, what is his (or her) purpose? Surely someone with this much capability has better things to do than harass Sir Cosmo. What if he is doing all of this to keep us distracted while something else is happening?

We have not yet accounted for the possible creation of an analysis engine and/or enormous cannon. Could these items be under construction, or even complete now, and being prepared for deployment and use in some other location? Perhaps these items are to be smuggled out of the country (though why would anyone build anything so ungainly as the cannon and then move it?)

-- I have been told that Mr Templeton installed a mystical barrier around the Manor today during Miss Whitnell's misfired ritual. Benton said that the barrier is keeping his father's ghost and also the late Mr MacGregor away from the house. I find the prospect of keeping this privacy very appealing; and yet, we have come to rely on the two paternal spirits to help maintain our security. I suppose I should ask Mr Templeton if he can adjust his barrier to allow the passage of just these two. Perhaps tomorrow morning will be soon enough.

Proceed to Mrs. Frazer's Case Notes

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