with covers of purple and brown marbling and a sticker on the front that read Ex Libris in ornate and swirling copperplate lettering, with a picture of an owl wearing massive round glasses.
" Journal ," Will read. "That's definitely my dad's writing." He opened the cover. "Bingo! It looks like a diary of some sort." He fanned through the pages. "He's written something on quite a few of these." Pushing it into his bag, he asked, "Are there any others?"
They hurriedly searched the remainder of the drawers and, finding nothing else, decided it was time to leave. Will locked up, and the boys made their way toward the Forty Pits, because it was close by and they knew they wouldn't be interrupted there. As they slunk though the streets, ducking behind cars when anyone appeared, they felt alive with the thrill of the forbidden mission at the museum and couldn't wait to look at the journal they'd unearthed. Reaching the Pits, they descended into the main chamber, where they arranged the cage lights and made themselves comfortable in the armchairs. Will began to pore over the pages.
"The first entry is not long after we discovered the lost train station," he said, looking up at Chester.
"What train station?"
But Will was too engrossed in the journal to explain. He recited slowly, in broken sentences, as he struggled to decipher his father's handwriting.
I have recently become aware of a small and … in … incongruous grouping of interlopers coming and going among the general populace of Highfield . A group of people who have a physical appearance that sets them apart. Where they come from or what their purpose is I have yet to ascertain but, from my limited observation of them, I believe that all is not what it seems. Given their apparent numbers (5+?) … homogeneity of their (racial?) appearance … I suspect they may cohabit or at the very least …
He trailed off as he scanned the rest of the page. "I can't quite make out the rest,"he said, looking up at Chester. "Here's something," he said, flicking over the page. "This is clearer."
Today a rather intriguing and baffling artifact came into my possession by way of a Mr. Embers. It may well be linked to these people, although I have yet to … substantiate this. The object is a small globe held in a cage of some type of metal, which, at the time of this writing, I have not been able to identify. The globe emits light of varying intensity depending on the degree of background illumination. What confounds me is that the relationship is directly inverse — the darker the surroundings, the brighter the light it emits. It defies any laws of physics or chemistry with which I am familiar.
Will held up the page so Chester could see the rough sketch his father had made.
"Have you actually seen it?" Chester inquired. "This light thing?"
"No, he kept all this to himself," Will replied thoughtfully. Turning the page he began to read again.
Today I had the opportunity to … scrutinize, albeit for a brief moment, one of the pallid men at close quarters.
"Pallid? As in pale? Chester said.
"Suppose so," Will answered, and then read out his father's description of the mysterious man. He went on to the episode with Pineapple Joe and the inexplicable duct in the house, and his father's thoughts and observations on
Martineau Square
. There followed a large number of pages debating the likely structure within the terraced houses that lined the square; Will leafed through these until he came to a photocopied extract from a book, stapled into the journal.
"It says Highfield's History at the top of the page, and it seems to be about someone called Sir Gabriel Martineau ," Will read:
Born in 1673, he was the son and heir of a successful cloth dyer in Highfield . In 1699, he inherited the business. Martineau , Long & Co. from his father and expanded it considerably, adding a further two factories to the original premises on
Heath Street
. He was known to be a
" Journal ," Will read. "That's definitely my dad's writing." He opened the cover. "Bingo! It looks like a diary of some sort." He fanned through the pages. "He's written something on quite a few of these." Pushing it into his bag, he asked, "Are there any others?"
They hurriedly searched the remainder of the drawers and, finding nothing else, decided it was time to leave. Will locked up, and the boys made their way toward the Forty Pits, because it was close by and they knew they wouldn't be interrupted there. As they slunk though the streets, ducking behind cars when anyone appeared, they felt alive with the thrill of the forbidden mission at the museum and couldn't wait to look at the journal they'd unearthed. Reaching the Pits, they descended into the main chamber, where they arranged the cage lights and made themselves comfortable in the armchairs. Will began to pore over the pages.
"The first entry is not long after we discovered the lost train station," he said, looking up at Chester.
"What train station?"
But Will was too engrossed in the journal to explain. He recited slowly, in broken sentences, as he struggled to decipher his father's handwriting.
I have recently become aware of a small and … in … incongruous grouping of interlopers coming and going among the general populace of Highfield . A group of people who have a physical appearance that sets them apart. Where they come from or what their purpose is I have yet to ascertain but, from my limited observation of them, I believe that all is not what it seems. Given their apparent numbers (5+?) … homogeneity of their (racial?) appearance … I suspect they may cohabit or at the very least …
He trailed off as he scanned the rest of the page. "I can't quite make out the rest,"he said, looking up at Chester. "Here's something," he said, flicking over the page. "This is clearer."
Today a rather intriguing and baffling artifact came into my possession by way of a Mr. Embers. It may well be linked to these people, although I have yet to … substantiate this. The object is a small globe held in a cage of some type of metal, which, at the time of this writing, I have not been able to identify. The globe emits light of varying intensity depending on the degree of background illumination. What confounds me is that the relationship is directly inverse — the darker the surroundings, the brighter the light it emits. It defies any laws of physics or chemistry with which I am familiar.
Will held up the page so Chester could see the rough sketch his father had made.
"Have you actually seen it?" Chester inquired. "This light thing?"
"No, he kept all this to himself," Will replied thoughtfully. Turning the page he began to read again.
Today I had the opportunity to … scrutinize, albeit for a brief moment, one of the pallid men at close quarters.
"Pallid? As in pale? Chester said.
"Suppose so," Will answered, and then read out his father's description of the mysterious man. He went on to the episode with Pineapple Joe and the inexplicable duct in the house, and his father's thoughts and observations on
Martineau Square
. There followed a large number of pages debating the likely structure within the terraced houses that lined the square; Will leafed through these until he came to a photocopied extract from a book, stapled into the journal.
"It says Highfield's History at the top of the page, and it seems to be about someone called Sir Gabriel Martineau ," Will read:
Born in 1673, he was the son and heir of a successful cloth dyer in Highfield . In 1699, he inherited the business. Martineau , Long & Co. from his father and expanded it considerably, adding a further two factories to the original premises on
Heath Street
. He was known to be a
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