Once again we are beholden to the current executors of the Knolly estate for letting us publish this, the second package of the great man's journals and memoirs.

So, there I was in the dimmed light of a railway carriage pedalling gently, and wetting my lips with a wee dram, or two (or three... Or so...) of fine Glen Ord single malt whisky. I considered the way that the safety lights were reflected like tiny constellations in the highly polished silver of the hip-flask. I moved the flask back and forth, hither and thither, pitching and yawing, becoming somewhat mesmerised by the light patterns.

I became aware of how tired I felt, so I closed my eyes and started to drift off, imagining that I was cycling in the Scottish countryside with Elspeth. I imagined the sunshine, the blue skies and beautiful scenery. This idyllic little dream then became tainted by the midges that buzzed around us as soon as we got close to water. The pests ganged-up in ever-increasing swarms that pursued us, and the faster we pedalled to evade these little horrors, larger grew the swarm and louder grew the buzzing until I was all a-quiver with nerves.

'Sir! Sir! Commander!'

The voice belonged to Meeds. The shaking also belonged to Meeds, rattling me from my reverie.

'Are you going to answer that?' he asked.

The buzzing belonged to the telephone.

'Yes, yes, of course. So sorry.' I replied as Meeds handed the device to me.

'And.... You can probably stop now, sir. Plenty of charge,' he said as he then proceeded to potter about the carriage, checking fittings and fixtures.

I nodded. I hadn't realised that I was still pedalling pell-mell. I slowed as I took the handset.

'Knolly here,' I answered.

'Ah ha!! Knolly! How's the head? I hear from Merrick that you've been on the sauce!' It was Hobbes.

Under my breath, I cursed the expediency of modern-day communications, and I momentarily imagined that details of my supposed inebriation had been tapped and telegraphed to every corner of the Empire. I wondered how I might explain myself to Elspeth should she also become party to the silly rumour.

'Hobbes, can we please address two things before we start?'

'Certainly.'

'First. Are we in any danger of being overheard? Could we be prone to listeners?'

'Most unlikely,' said Hobbes in a confident tone. 'We were crossing over the new public networks when you were at Merrick's. We are now on a secure military network, and I assume, security is one of the reasons why you are on The Train.'

'Good. Now, secondly. I don't know what Merrick's told you, but I have not been drinking, d'you hear? So kindly disabuse yourself of that notion.'

'Er.... Excuse me, sir?' Meeds called and waved.

'One moment, Hobbes... Yes Meeds. What is it?'

'I'm just off to shut everything down for the night. Will you be wanting your hip-flask topped-up whilst I'm away?'

I could hear Hobbes stifling a laugh.

'Er.... No, no thank you, Meeds. And don't bother clearing up where it all spilled out. You know, where it... I'll do that.' I said loudly with a wink as I handed him the flask and nodded fiercely. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, especially one bearing single malts.

'Now, Hobbes. To work. Merrick tells me that you have had some ideas about my Uncle's journal?'

'Indeed, we think that we have made some progress.'

'Really?'

'Oh yes, I was particularly intrigued by the blank pages.'

'Oh excellent, Elspeth will be pleased.'

'Knolly, they are not blank, least not when looked at under a microscope and having had some direct heat applied.'

I sat still and stared at the device in my hand, dumbstruck for a moment.

'Knolly, are you there, everything all right?'

'Yes, yes, but listen there was a picture, a drawing that looked like the gift Archie gave me for my birthday.'

'So you noticed that too? Funny, Bertie was very quick to point that object out.'

Leaving my comments about Bertie to one side, Hobbes made it clear that while the joint analysis of the journal had been brief, it had been very productive nonetheless, and so we proceeded to discuss said findings.

For instance, Oscar I was King of Sweden when Monty wrote the Little Nutmeg rhyme in his diary in 1845. The name Oscar originates in Old English and translates to Spear of the Gods, which could conceivably be a reference to the drawing of the object similar to the 'Staff'. And on that subject, he also related some more detail of the illustrations that punctuated the journal. It appeared that the 'Staff' (if, indeed, the diagrams depicted that same artefact) was part of a greater apparatus, the purpose of which was as yet undetermined.

Needless to say, I was greatly encouraged by this. But Hobbes had saved the best until last. He told me of a series of diagrams that had to all intents and purposes been hidden to the naked eye, which suggested that the 'Staff' was also a container of some kind. And there were instructions to open it though they seemed incomplete.

'It's a container of some kind?'

'The one described by your Uncle seems to be, but that does not mean your birthday gift is the same.'

'Hobbes, do you think it dangerous?' I recalled my conversation earlier with Millie... 'I have the object with me here on The Train.'

'Dangerous? No, yes, maybe.... Oh, you have me! I have no idea, but when you consider how it got to you, and how old it is, it obviously travels well.'

'Well at least you didn't ask me if it was glowing or ticking.'

'Is it?'

'No. Well... it wasn't before I left home, or in the cab. Hold that thought a minute though would you please.'

I put the telephone down and got off the saddle and looked for my bags, walking was suddenly very difficult, but that could have been the malt. They weren't with me, bah! I'd left them in the gymnasium. I looked out of the window for Meeds but he was obviously busy elsewhere which meant I would have to go and fetch them myself.

I picked up the telephone once more:

'Hobbes, just going to fetch my bags, I shouldn't be too long.'

Goodness but my legs were stiff, but at least I could see my way though the 'workshop of doom' this time, and I espied a more direct route. My bags were where I'd left them along with my coat. The mechanical warrior hung limp but its presence even with the lights still on was a bit unnerving. With an involuntary shudder I made a mental note to ensure that, when not in use, it was always stowed back in the ceiling. I checked the bag containing the 'Staff' and it seemed a tad heavier than earlier, but I thought little of it as I had to keep focused on moving my leg muscles. This did make for some rather awkward moments as I navigated my way back, the circular saw was tricky and I almost got snagged by the overhead hooks that seemed to be having a jolly game at my expense!

Putting my bags down, and placing the 'Staff' on the table I picked up the telephone once more.

Hello Hobbes, no, no change.'

There was an all too loud whoosh of breath no longer being held and some muttering in the background.

'Hello, Knolly, Bertie here. Hobbes was going a very funny colour back then, why did you tell him to hold his breath so?'

'I said nothing of the sort! Now Bertie, I need you to collect the Maxim gun first thing tomorrow.'

'Oh, I thought you and Elspeth were collecting it on your way home?'

'Yes, we did, but Elspeth took a turn while we were there, I got it and her home. Then I had the urge to contact Hobbs and felt it safer for all if I pitched up here.'

'So the Maxim is at home still... with Elspeth?' Bertie sounded rather alarmed by this.

'Yes, and your trusty firearm too.' I waited a few seconds for this extra soupcon of information to sink in, 'Well I couldn't very well walk down the road to the station with them could I?'

But...'

'The guns are not in the house, and Elspeth was asleep when Millie hid them away.'

'So you want me to bring over to you then?'

'No, no one must know I'm here....'

'But we do, so does Chief Meeds.'

'Yes I mean no one else.'

'Such as?'

'Bertie look it doesn’t matter just trust me on this... Is everything ready, supplies wise?'

'Indeed we are, and you are in for a surprise we've all been very busy bees here.'

I didn't want to ask, well... Alright I did, for I was anxious about leaving my automobile with him, and now who knew what was going on.

'Splendid I'm looking forward to seeing what young Louis has produced in such a short time. By the way, Conan Doyle has chosen to furnish us with aliases for our meeting with Sir John.'

'Oh, really?'

I could tell Bertie was not going to be impressed by his tone.

'Indeed, I am to be known as Mr Stapleton and you will be Mr Barrymore.'

'Well, they are rather dull, and not much scope for my mimicry talents. sounds far too home counties. I was thinking of trying out a Yorkshire accent this time too.'

I waited knowing full well what was to come next.

'Eee by gum. Oh, yes!” Came Bertie's gruff tones in what was a very poor imitation of a music hall Yorkshire accent.

'What do you think then?'

'I er... don't think the telephone did it justice. Remember we are supposed to be interested in his surveys, so best if we come across as learned chaps, eh, and not factory owners, hmm?'

'I suppose,' sulked Bertie. 'Can I chose my Christian name though?'

'Yes, but nothing too ostentatious this time, something normal Jack or John perhaps.'

'Sorry, Knolly. Didn't quite catch that?'

I was about to repeat when Meeds sauntered back in flask in hand.

'Bertie, telephone me here in the morning, Meeds has just hove into view and I need to sort out where we can rendezvous safely.'

'Til tomorrow then, TTFN!' With that the line went dead.

Meeds was glowering at me, he must have overheard quite a bit and he didn't seem too happy.

'You want to move my girls?'

I was in no mood for this.

'Yes Chief, I do, and I want to do it as soon as possible. So please tell me when we can do it, and where can we go?'

Handing me my flask, he pulled a chart out of a pigeon hole, and unrolled it on the table.

'I understand you need to get my train connected to an overnight to Glasgow?'

I nodded.

'I still need my men to complete the changes and then test, but a test in the field wouldn’t hurt.'

He screwed up his face in thought and then stabbed at the map with his forefinger.

'There will do nicely.'

I looked at where he had pointed, there was a railway line certainly but no marked station. I looked closer at the map to see the nearest named road, and then at Meeds.

'Mornington Crescent?'...

The Great Knolly Archive

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