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.

I was concerned about Elspeth and concerned about the forthcoming mission. With all that promised to pass, Lord knows that I could have done with a deep and refreshing sleep. Instead, I spent a restless night, being awoken at regular intervals by images of empty armouries, of crowds of ragged, putrid mendicants, of a pranged train, and - worst of all - of mountains of civil service paperwork as a direct result of the pranged train. Not quite the Night Terrors, but unsettling enough to keep one from feeling even mildly rested.

I looked at Elspeth; she lay in a sound contented asleep, untroubled by the troubles that were troubling my doubly troubled mind and that were in effect causing me to be trebly troubled.

In an attempt to tire out my whirring mind, I counted the leaves on our flock wallpaper pattern, (I knew that this would not remain there much longer, the new headboard just didn’t go with the current decor). I counted sheep and I counted my blessings. I thought of the most boring thing that I could think of - mathematics lessons from my schooldays. I started yawning at the very thought of long division; I could feel my breathing start to slow when I considered the trigonometry of the isosceles triangle. So far, so good. Surely calculus - in particular, triple integration - would send me off to the land of Nod? No such luck. I discovered that my subconscious mind obviously understood the subject better than my conscious mind - and a such I spent a lengthy time confirming the calculations that underpinned Newton's laws of gravity and then I went on to calculate the paths and periods of all manner of elliptical for bodies in mutual orbit. And all this, without a pencil and all without having resort to fiddling with my portable “Tool” under the sheets as I usually did when forced to confront such matters as a schoolboy (Bertie had such a scientific mind, even back then).

Eventually, my mind became weary with these mechanics and it decided that enough was enough. But no sooner had I made myself comfortable than there came a polite tap on the bedroom door which was followed by a slight rattling noise which in turn was followed by a voice.

'Good Morning Sir, Madam,' it cooed.

'I shall leave your breakfast in the hallway.'

'Thank you, Millie.' I replied gruffly (What unearthly time had she got up I wondered).

I lit a candle before donning robe and slippers. I was normally pleased at the prospect of tea-in-bed, but not that day. Not without a wink of decent sleep.

Elspeth awoke from her slumber, stretching and yawning.

'What time is it, my dear?' she asked sleepily.

Five-thirty in the morning. We need to make sure that we are in plenty of time for our train.' I replied as I gently stirred Elspeth's tea.

Ohhhhh! What a wonderful sleep!' She said as she took the saucer. 'I had such a pleasant dream about relaxing at Hoot Hall - although I'm sure that I was disturbed by your snoring. We really ought to get that seen to, you know....'

I glared and stirred my own tea with rather more vigour than I had Elspeth's.

I must admit that the Darjeeling did raise my spirits somewhat. After my ablutions and grooming, I looked relatively presentable in spite of my head feeling as if it were stuffed with goose-down and my mind being befuddled. Elspeth - as ever - was positively radiant and was chirpily re-organising her portable wardrobe and effects. She stopped and reached out to me. We held hands.

'I know that we will have all manner of things to do, but it will be so nice to spend some time together.' She sighed.

Indeed, this was true. It seemed that for the most part, our waking hours spent together were in the company of friends, colleagues, rogues and (latterly) smelly vagabonds. I resolved to make it up to her properly once this mission was out of the way and, of course, when our progeny arrived.

She smiled and kissed me on the cheek and went back to her packing.

Our cab arrived bang on time and we stepped into a fresh, crisp morning complete with clear blue skies and a beautiful sunrise in progress. I breathed in the air and felt instantly better, ready for anything.

'Cor, blinky-blimey guv!' said our driver. 'You don't half look rough! You been on the port all night? Shouldn't you be inside wiv the curtains closed?'

I felt instantly shabby and ready for nothing.

I thanked the driver for his concern and informed him that if he wished to receive any kind of tip, then he might be wise to keep such opinions to himself for the rest of the journey.

As we clip-clopped through the streets of London, we noticed how heavy the traffic had become. Carts vied for position with cabs, and die-hards on penny-farthings and the newer safety-bicycles ran the gauntlet of horse drawn buses and trams. The occasional automobile chugged around and I longed to see my own 'toy' again. Patience, dear boy, patience.

We observed the busyness of people going about their business. There were those who - even at this early hour - had completed their day's work and who were in search of liquid and solid refreshment at various taverns. There were those who - like us - were just starting their day, and heading to the fruit markets, meat markets, flower markets, fish markets and stock markets, and by the riverside roamed stevedores, lightermen and crewmen.

I was far from relaxed in the cab; every small pothole that we traversed felt like we had dropped down the Cheddar Gorge, and every small bump felt like we'd run over a granite tor. Nevertheless, Elspeth and I enjoyed the fine morning, the views and each other's company.

The journey was pleasant and it seemed that we arrived at Waterloo in no time at all. Despite the earlier cheek of the cabbie, the chap had become conciliatory (especially toward Elspeth) as the journey progressed and so I gave him a decent tip. Before we even got our bearings, a bewhiskered porter in a mauve uniform and little pill-box hat rushed up and took care of our baggage, which meant that we could then enjoy the hustle-and-bustle of a major railway station. Elspeth and I marvelled at modern transportation systems that allowed many people today to regularly travel up to 5 miles to attend their place of business! Truly astonishing! Who knows what might happen in future? People might travel from places like Sidcup in the depths of the Kent countryside to work in London Town. Elspeth and I agreed that mayhap that is a little too far-fetched...

Having purchased our tickets, we made our way to the platform just as the first call for embarkation went up. We were shown to our carriage which - I was encouraged to see - we had to ourselves. The seats were comfortable, the carriage was heated to a pleasant temperature, and there were travel blankets provided in case the weather should take a turn for the worst. Unlikely, I thought, as I cast a meteorological eye heavenward. We were settled within minutes of our arrival.

From what I could gather, the train was sparsely populated, so there was little possibility of having to accommodate other travellers in our little section. I was also relieved that this was to be a social journey; as such, I was 'off duty' and therefore would be under no obligation to perform carriage-to-carriage searches for fiendish characters, their associated diabolic plans and their devilish implements. The thought of getting some sleep made me smile in a serene way (or so I thought). However, I received a smart tap on the forehead from Elspeth.

'Ahoy there! Are you thinking about The Countess von Kronenbourg?' she said. 'I've seen that look before on you and Bertie!'

I assured her that Hypnos rather than The Countess had presently occupied my thoughts... although now that she had been mention...

I don't know whether it was her shrill cry of 'KNOLLY!' or the kick in the shins that snapped me out of my little dream, but well-and-truly snapped out of it I was.

'Make yourself useful,' she said. 'Pass me a book, would you please?'

'Certainly. Which one?'

'Dracula!'

I rummaged in one of her small carpet bags, trying hard not to look at the contents therein whilst feeling around for a book. Aunt Lettice always told me that 'what is inside a lady's bag is her own business' and I always heeded this. I do not think that there was anything sinister in Auntie's axiom - rather, she was trying to say that each of us must have their sacred space, such as when a gentleman repairs to the water closet with a copy of The Times.

I am sure that this particular bag must have been designed by Dr Roux, for it seemed to be of a greater volume than was capable of being surrounded by the fabric. Another conundrum queued up for a sleepless night.

I stopped when my hand brushed against something cold and metallic. A small pistol, by the feel of it. I didn't look at it - I just left it where it was. To say that I was decidedly uneasy at Elspeth being armed was an understatement. I took hold of the book and closed the bag.

'You are supposed to be fetching the book, not writing it!' she quipped.

'We need to talk,' I said in a sombre tone as I handed over her sombre tome.

'Knolly? What's the matter?' she asked.

'Elspeth, I am all for a person defending themselves, but this is taking things too far!' I said in a hushed voice.

'Whatever in the world are you talking about, my dear?' she asked in a voice that was far from hushed.

'The gun. In your bag,' I hushed.

'Again, I will ask you: Whatever in the world are you talking about?' She didn't hush.

There is a gun in your bag. From where did you get it?'

Understandably, Elspeth looked shocked and did not respond.

I rummaged blindly again, found the metallic object, and with a 'j'accuse!' and a theatrical flourish, I produced the offending article and held it up.

'Elspeth ! Are you aware of how much damage and anguish an implement like this can cause? This... this... this... set of compact eyelash curlers?'

What had I done? My sleep-starved brain had created a potential domestic catastrophe, that's what!

Elspeth just stared at me, nonplussed. I waited, bracing myself for the worst. And then her face broke into a beautiful smile.

'Oh, you silly man! Even when you are tired, you are such a card!' Fortunately, she thought that I had been teasing her.

'Come! Come and sit next to me...' She said reassuringly as she gently patted my seat, '.... and don’t ever do that to me again!' as she playfully thumped me over the head with Bram Stoker’s finest.

There was a toot on the whistle, the train gave a lurch and we chuffed and chugged slowly out of Waterloo and into the beautiful English countryside.

To sleep, perchance to dream....

The Great Knolly Archive

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