Monday October 16, 1854. George here. I heard the junior clerks' shouts of indignation in the outer office, then Charley, Bertha's henchman, burst through the door. "They think they found 'im!" he cried. "Think?" "In a shaft beside the Thames Tunnel. They're fetching ladders now!"

I do hope Octavius is OK George, how is Bertha doing in her quest to find him?

Sunday October 15, 1854. "Well, I think he disappeared for affectation," said Mary. She's my wife. I prepared myself to step between her and my sister as I saw the look of loathing in Annie's eyes. "What did our vicar just talk about in his sermon?" I asked. "The true meaning of charity!"

Saturday October 14, 1854. George here. Mary's not happy with me. We were meant to go for a stroll in Regents Park, but instead I went to see Octavius's brother at the fish stall he works at in Old Street. "Bertha's got every criminal in London out looking for him," he told me.

Good idea!

Friday October 13, 1854. George again. Now I'm really worried. Instead of looking for the dog as I was told to do, I went to Brandram's Wharf for a look around. When I found his diary there, I plucked up courage and made my way to the Bucket of Blood, where I asked to see Bertha.

Thursday October 12 1854. George Crump again. Octavius hasn't shown his face yet and Mr Bruff is furious with him. I told him I was worried but he just shouted me down. He's ordered me to take on a missing dog case, but I don't think it's right. I ought to be looking for Octavius.

Oh my word, that’s terrible news.

Hi George, you had better start looking for him then - good luck

Wednesday October 11, 1854. George Crump here and I'm only writing this because everything's gone really wrong. The night before last, those thugs broke in and slaughtered Lady Geeson in her bed. Sir John blames Mr Bruff for his bad advice. To cap it all Octavius has disappeared.

🥺

😳 oh I am getting very concerned for your safety Sir!

Tuesday October 10, 1854. Brandram's Wharf: just after midnight. The wash of waves against the timbers of the wharf; the air damp and heavy. I pen this as I await the escapees, though Sir John sent me out without a penny. Do I hear footsteps? [a splash of blood marks the page as the entry ends]

What a rude missive. Have these villains no manners?

Monday October 9, 1854. "Your former colleagues seem woefully ill informed." Sir John sniffed, rifled through a drawer, and tossed a poorly written note at me. "You put us in clink," it read. "Bring us fifty quid to Brandram's Wharf this very night or we finish wot we started!"

Sunday October 8, 1854. "Did Bertha have any leads?" asked George as we huddled against the rain under the church's meagre eaves. Everyone else had made a run for it. "She reckons they're headed for the Highlands. The one who wasn't caught has a brother with a remote croft there."

🧐

Saturday October 7, 1854. I am perfectly happy using my underworld acquaintances to help me solve a case; I am perfectly unhappy to be ordered to do so! Bertha was unequivocal. "They legged it," she said. "Wouldn't surprise me if they wasn't in Scotland by now. Another sherry, Octopus?"

Sir John sounds like a rather regal elderly schnauzer.

A great compliment!

Friday October 6, 1854. My employer Mr Bruff summoned me to his office. "This is Sir John Geeson," he said as I entered. "I still act on behalf of his wife." A greying gent with luxuriant whiskers eyed me disparagingly. "Ignore his youth," said Mr Bruff. "Gooseberry's your man."

How awful for Sir John.

A brutal and dangerous bunch!

Thursday October 5, 1854. The three convicts (minus a fourth man who got clean away) were jailed for house breaking. They'd been apprehended at gunpoint by the owner, Sir John Geeson, but not before his wife had been brutally struck down. Lady Geeson remains in a coma to this day.

A sight to behold 🤣

Wednesday October 4, 1854. "They got details here of the crime those escaped prisoners were tried for." George flicked his newspaper to straighten it. "Don't tell me," said I. "Whatever it was, there was a fourth man involved, who managed to get clean away." George's jaw dropped.

Hmm…intriguing 🤔

Aha!

Tuesday October 3, 1854. On Saturday last, having toured the new meat market at Copenhagen Fields, I'd happened upon a man kneeling over a cage in the field at the north-eastern corner. I heard the flurry of wings and saw two pigeons take to the sky, headed for Pentonville Prison.

Oh no. Danger!

Oh no young man. Members of the criminal fraternity on the loose. What will you do?

Monday October 2, 1854. George and I were seated in our office, each trying to tempt Mr Tibbles from his box, when one of the junior clerks burst in with the news: three prisoners had escaped from Pentonville Prison on the Caledonian Road. Oddly the pigeons I'd seen nearby sprung to mind.

Sunday October 1, 1854. To church in Camden; the sermon was boring. Afterwards I told George what I'd seen yesterday: "They've taken the fields and sectioned them off, and built brick abattoirs everywhere." I don't know why, but I didn't mention the man I'd seen with the pigeons.

Saturday September 30, 1854. After eating a leisurely breakfast I considered what to do with my day. Since it wasn't raining, I took a stroll up the Caledonian Road to see what progress had been made at Copenhagen Fields, the site where London's new meat market will go.

Woo hoo. Well done Sir 💎💎

Well acted Sir!

Friday September 29, 1854. "You delivered it up then?" "I did, George." George smiled smugly. "Bet it feels good knowing that you did the right thing!" It felt even better knowing that I had a receipt for my ruby and that, when Sergeant Gray was through with it, I'd be getting it back!

Ah a receipt. Excellent.

Thursday September 28, 1854. "So this ruby was given to Mr Goodman by the scurrilous Mrs Klein?" "Out of guilt over the attack, I believe." "And you found it in the clock you bought?" I nodded. "I expect you'll be wanting a receipt." Sergeant Gray sat down at his desk and began to write.

Wednesday September 27, 1854. George sat stroking Mr Tibbles on his lap; I stared out the window, waiting to be asked again if I had delivered my ruby into Sergeant Gray's possession. I could always "lose" it, I reflected. Bertha would have no trouble finding me a buyer...

Yup. And who would the unfound ruby belong to?

Tuesday September 26, 1854. "Why did you keep saying theoretically yesterday?" George asked me for the umpteenth time. Sometimes he's like a dog with a bone. "George, that's how lawyers speak. Mr Bruff would appreciate that." "You didn't much appreciate his answer," he countered.

Monday September 25, 1854. Try as I might I was unable to dissuade George from accompanying me to consult Mr Bruff. I removed my bowler and knocked, mentally deciding how to broach the subject in order to put my case in the very best possible light. "Come!" we heard him call.

Sunday September 24, 1854. George and I stared at Annie in anticipation of her pronouncing one or the other of us right. "The answer is clear," she said. "You both work for a lawyer; you should ask Mr Bruff." A magpie chortled in the churchyard and my heart turned to ice.

It is up to you, Sir. I would advise to sleep on it, and then decidecwhat is the best course of action. There might well be a "finder's reward".

Your conscience is much more pleasant to take into the rest of your life when it is clear dear Sir.

Saturday September 23, 1854. George's lack of enthusiasm over the ruby was infectious. As I sat eyeing my new found gem, doubts about its true ownership came to the fore. Fact: it was stolen property. Fact: it was relevant to Sergeant Gray's case. Fact: it was worth a fortune.

Friday September 22 1854. "But how can you keep it!" George exclaimed. "It's not like it's yours." "It became mine when I purchased the clock," I replied. "Besides I'm not going to keep it; I'm going to sell it." George shook his head in bewilderment. "It ain't right," he mumbled.

Oh my. Amazing.

Thursday September 21, 1854. I ousted Mr Tibbles from the box in the corner that he now regarded as his own. He watched through slitted eyes as I attacked what remained of the clock. George watched too. "What do you hope to achieve?" he asked. "This," I said, holding up the ruby.