Just after I concluded yesterday's notes, Lady Cowperthwaite returned from her errands and all of us here put our information together. There was a flurry of notes from us to Inspector MacGreggor, and Mr O'Flaherty, and back again.

Lady Cowperthwaite reported an encounter with a Thuggee master, Master Marrut, long believed dead. The description (older, with grey beard, and eyepatch and a turban) matched the henchman of Niall Malloy seen in the vision of the dirigible.

Why would a formidable Thuggee, the trainer of Master Tandu, who had left the service of J. Moriarty under bad terms, return from the dead only to serve a small-time criminal like Niall Malloy? Is it really him, or an impostor hoping to capitalise on Marrut's reputation? Mr Salmalin seemed sure it truly was Marrut, and he would know best. Even, so, after all I've seen, this fellow doesn't scare me. We have our own returned-from-the-dead Thuggee, and ours is fresher.

Inspector MacGreggor's note was most specific in saying that we should not go to Surrey, as the location the Mystics marked for Davy Hawkins was suspiciously close to the location of Niall Malloy's notorious pig farm, and the Inspector had police actions afoot there.

This injunction left the Ladies complete freedom, though, to pursue the scried Location of Niall Malloy himself, somewhere in Kent. The Mystics' scrying showed that Malloy and his minions had captured "Mr Gates," and had cut off his finger as some sort of threat to "Jimmy." We may not know who these people are yet, but we can hardly let this continue. They have taken two carriages, Sir Spencer, Emily, Salmalin, Edward, and will gather up Mr O'Flaherty on the way.

George, claiming to be "fine," but still certainly not at full strength, has been posted near me and the babies, in addition to the rest of the fairly capable household staff of both Charles Street establishments.

I, meanwhile have little to do but sit here in my rooms, recuperating, feeding the babies, and making up baby carriers.

Thursday, 3 August, 1871
(continued, late evening)

I have had a rather hair-raising time of it here. That Marrut creature arrived stealthily in our house, knocking poor Mr Humphreys insensible in order to enter through the kitchen. I heard a very minute noise in the hall outside my rooms, and before I knew it, I was shooting at a blurringly fast fleeing figure in the corridor.

I instructed Violet to secure herself and the babies in the inner nursery room of the suite, and went to help George pursue the intruder. Both of them were moving with that peculiar speed and stealth which makes a thuggee nearly impossible to see. I could not shoot easily for fear of hitting George. I got a few good shots in, and George was holding his own, I thought, fairly well.

This fellow liked to bash through walls. He went through a wall into Sir Spencer's study, and I was fairly sure that George was in there fighting him. From my position out in the corridor, I heard very long-seeming silences punctuated by enormous crashes as they hurled game trophies at one another.

When at last I peered into the hole to try to shoot the intruder, he threw an elephant-foot ottoman right through the wall at me. After dodging that, I found I couldn't regain my feet, being yet too awkward and feeling quite rubbery about the midsection. I crawled rather ignominiously down the corridor, and that nasty man heard me passing and tried to grab me through the wall. He didn't know I was crawling, though. As his hand exploded out of the wall above me, it was neatly shot through the wrist by Stuart, who had at that instant appeared at the end of the hall with his rifle.

I reached him and we held a quick conference. Stuart impulsively ran through the hallway to "draw the fire" of the intruder. Unfortunately, he did just that, and was felled by a truncheon or short staff hurled through the wall. I tried throwing a few rocks against the wall, hoping to distract the enemy and give George an opening. I was just contemplating my next move when the gun was struck from my hand, my right arm hung limp with a fiery feeling on the shoulder, and I was pinned with my left arm behind me. The cad had caught me! But in doing so, he had slowed to where I could catch him. Besides, he paused to say some very insulting things to George. I gave a good solid kick behind me to try for his knee, but just then I pitched forward and the intruder fell back.

George had shot him with one of Sir Spencer's elephant guns--a direct hit to the head. Oh, the carpet is certainly a complete loss. My ears were still ringing hours later.

I received news by means of Sgt Frazer and the late Mr MacGreggor that while we were redecorating Sir Spencer's study, a group of some 25 ninjitsu were attacking the Metropolitan Police station. This attack occurred shortly after Inspector MacGreggor had departed the station with some dozen of the most formidable constables, en route to the Malloy establishment in Surrey.

It seems that the ninjitsus were instructed to cause a distraction while a trained safecracker was dispatched into the building to open the Chief Inspector's vault, where they supposed the artifact would be stored (which it wasn't).

Mr Frazer had been instrumental in routing the attackers, of course. He sustained a few scrapes, but nothing serious. Indeed, none of the Police staff were seriously injured, which amazes me, considering the difference in fighting training between an ordinary police constable (let alone an ordinary police clerk) and one of these nasty ninjitsus. We must be scraping the bottom of the ninjitsu barrel.

Unfortunately, none of the ninjitsus were captured. The safecracker was, however, and I understand he is being questioned.

When Mr Frazer returned home, it was difficult to determine which of us should be looking after the other. He wanted to tuck me into bed and bring me tisanes, and I wanted to put fresh plasters on his cuts. And of course he and Turgenov were very quick to go into the nursery and assure themselves of the babies' safety. Turgenov is sleeping (with one ear cocked) right at the foot of baby Caroline's cradle even now, and none of Violet's scolding will move him.

It is fortunate that Mr Frazer and I had each handled our attackers at the same time, since if I had heard of him being under attack, I should have wanted to rush to his aid And likewise, of course, he would have rushed here. As it was, by the time we each heard of the other's travails, the whole matter was mostly settled.

The larger League group in Surrey was also embattled at the very same time. Inspector MacGreggor had gone out to the Malloy farm. He and his men had questioned the tenants and searched the farmhouse, and two constables had been dispatched to search the barn. Those two ran afoul of a contingent of ninjitsus. Constable Gregson (Wooster's nephew) got loose and found a cannon, which he fired to get the Inspector's attention.

This also attracted the attention of the other roaming partisans of the League, led by Lady Cowperthwaite. This group had begun to travel to Kent to find Niall Malloy, and had paused to refine their locational scrying. They discovered that Malloy was moving from Kent toward Surrey, and so they had changed course to intercept him. When they heard the cannon, they assumed that they were being fired upon. Some of our partisans split out to flank the cannon position, and Edward and Sir Spencer brought some of their heavier artillery out of the carriage.

Before long, the barn in question opened its roof and what should emerge into the sky but the swan boat, held aloft by a set of dirigible gas bags. It was surrounded by a sphere of electric or magnetic force which repelled projectiles. Simultaneous actions by the Mystics and by Edward disabled the force sphere and rendered Davy Hawkins (who was piloting the conveyance) unconscious. Several of our partisans were able to climb aboard and take possession of the boat. Edward more-or-less figured out how to operate it, including its original mode of levitation. Many of the League's partisans traveled back to London at high speed, having heard about the attack on the Police station (they also heard about the attack on the house, but had heard that matters were fully settled here).

Edward was almost uncontainable when they all returned to Charles Street. He had captured the swan boat and piloted it all the way to Cleopatra's Needle! I am almost tempted to read some of Lady Cowperthwaite's dime novels next month, as they will surely have some story to tell about the flying boat landing in the River. It might even be almost as astonishing as the truth.

Inspector MacGreggor has remained in Surrey to finish arresting the remaining villains. Mrs Salmalin remained with them as well, to drive the clockwork carriage back. They have not returned, and are not expected for some time.

I must try to sleep, at least for a little while. I have just fed the babies, so perhaps they will sleep for an hour or two before they wake to be fed again. I must remember to speak to Sir Spencer and to Edward about some additional safeguards for the Nursery...

Friday, 4 August 1871
(early)

I did not sleep well last night, being plagued by anxious dreams. Benton seemed similarly troubled. These last days have brought so many changes to our lives. Well, two very significant changes. Two changes which wake us up every two hours all night long.

When I heard Mrs Salmalin return at last with the dawn, I rose and went to the parlour to hear her report of the night's adventures in Surrey. She reported nothing too dramatic in the hours since the rest of the League left in the flying swan, indeed, she had slept for some hours in the hay while the Inspector completed his work.

Unfortunately, the persons arrested consist mainly of lesser minions of Niall Malloy, and not any ninjitsus or others who might know about the League of Shadows.

We did, at least, regain possession of some of the artifacts, and we have Davy Hawkins in custody. We do not yet know if there is any damage to his mentation as a result of his strange experience with the artifacts. Sir Matthew Whemple, who had a much more brief exposure, is reported to be behaving strangely.

Mrs Salmalin told me about her part of the battle, in which she considered herself not very useful. She has been suffering anxieties about not being able to fight alongside the others. Her unique Mystical abilities take time to deploy, and she is worried that she must so often require some of the able fighters to guard her while she employs them. What balderdash! I happen to know that she is at least as capable a fighter as myself, but the fact is we have plenty of really extraordinary combatants, and a much smaller number of people who can put out fires or find enemy strongholds and all those things that she and Mrs Cuthbert can do. I did my best to reassure her.

If that weren't sufficiently absurd, Emily has attempted to give notice again, saying she had not guarded Edward well enough during the set-to in Surrey. I have managed to cultivate confidence and poise in many young ladies who were far less formidable than those I work with now. I shall simply have to treat this as another such professional challenge.

We all still have much to do today. We will no doubt discuss our plans over breakfast.

(Later)
In case I didn't have enough trouble with assassins and flame-breathing boats, my mother is coming to stay. I received a wire from my Father with this morning's post. Wilhelmina and Emily will be meeting her at the train station this afternoon, as they will be out at the dressmakers (Wilhelmina, in conference with Mrs Salmalin and myself, has embarked upon boosting Emily's confidence by improving her clothing).

I have also received further congratulations today, including a note from Prince Lukas and a call by M Shafrat on behalf of Vicomte Mulineaus (poor M Shafrat looked yet very tired after our adventure in the Marshes).

The Mystics are working to find Mr Gates, whom we have learned is the manager for Jimmy Maws, the pugilist whom Malloy wishes to pit against Mr O'Flaherty. Malloy is, as we suspected, planning to manipulate the outcome of the fight in order to win maximum profit in the betting. The apparently gentle-mannered Mr Maws came to Mr O'Flaherty in some distress when he received the finger of Mr Gates. It was accompanied by instructions to fight a certain way or Mr Gates would suffer.

So, we have had little rest, and Mr Gates' life depends on swift and clever actions. It is very difficult to rescue a hostage from the hands of a truly ruthless captor. After the attempt on my babies, I can only regard Malloy as a vicious barbarian. We do have some advantage in that he is not very smart and his information about us and our abilities seems to be incomplete. Nevertheless, he will certainly not forget the injury we have done to his reputation already. He will continue to harass us until we capture him and the law sees him despatched.

And I must not forget the deepening mystery of the so-called League of Shadows. They are using the foolish Malloy as a catspaw, I am sure of it. What will they do when we have defeated him? Even if they retreat for a time, they may well return again with some other puppet. What do they want?

Meanwhile, I will need to invent some story about why there are bullet holes in the corridor to appease my Mother's curiosity.

Proceed to Even more inconvenient

Return to Miss Sinclair's Diary Index

Return to Main Menu

Contents this page copyright 2004 by Ieva Ohaks. All Rights Reserved.