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.

It was certainly not the way I had wanted to leave Hoot Hall, but needs must and all that. As I turned to wave goodbye, Sol-Tan appeared at my side; he was somewhat dishevelled and dusty with an added cobweb for good measure.

'I believe Mr Bertie requested this?' he said as he handed me a leather gun case.

'Oh well remembered Sol! Thank you!'

'Don’t worry about your Aunt Sir. We’ll look after her, just make sure you and Mrs Elspeth come back in good health, no limbs missing or holes to be patched.' He grinned.

I settled myself next to my darling wife, the door was closed and Sag Aloo cracked the whip. We were off once more.

Elspeth looked at me and placed the diary in my hands.

'I shouldn’t have mentioned I was going on this escapade, should I?'

'Probably not. I daresay our departure would have been easier had you not enquired what gift she would like brought back, but the deed is done, and you my dear had just stay out of trouble or I really will be for the high jump.'

She nodded. 'I’m sorry.'

'Oh, it’s not your fault dear. Now take Bertie's elephant gun ...'

Elspeth giggled at the words 'elephant' and 'Bertie' being used in the same sentence. I rolled my eyes.

'I'm sorry,' she giggled once more. 'It’s just that ... Well, you know .... Last night's dressing-up with the thingy ...'

'Hmm, well let’s try to let that go now, shall we? I think we’ve had more than our fair share of elephantine insinuations for one outing.'

She made to open the gun case.

'And I do think it is best to leave that in there, don’t you think?' I chided.

The corners of her mouth dropped in a mock sad face, but was soon to change.

We turned our attention to the diary, which I held gently, turning it in my hands. It was bound in fine, dark leather with the Montagu crest embossed in a subtle motif on the front cover and on the spine. A slim leather strip was tied in a bow, keeping the contents safe from accidental view. Save for a few minor scuffmarks, it was in good condition (considering its age and where it had been).

I knew that Aunt Lettice had read this volume, but I doubted whether she understood in full its content or the implications thereof. At least I hoped that she did not....

And now I wanted to discover the secrets that the diary held. It was true that time was of the essence in our endeavour, but if the analysis of such an important document should be rushed, this would increase the risk of a helter-skelter dash toward imprecise conclusions and improper actions that would endanger both the mission and our persons. Much as I wanted to delve, I realised that it would be of great benefit to wait until Bertie, Hobbes and I could pour over it in a structured and disciplined manner. Thus, I resolved - on this leg of the journey, I would only glance at the contents to ensure that we had not been bluffed by Aunt Lettice.

I carefully unfastened the tie and - slowly, gently - rifled through the journal.

Every other page seemed to be blank which Elspeth found to be 'wasteful'. Each page was carefully numbered in the top right-hand corner, and in the bottom right-hand corner of each page was a small, unique and rather peculiar pictogram - the significance of which would not become apparent until much later.

The early pages of the diary were written in a neat and tidy neat and tidy, but clearly - as time and events progressed - the entries became a series of rather scrappy jottings, sketches and field notes, all of which seemed to have been documented whilst in a state of excitement, agitation or anxiety.

And then a poignant moment. I saw that the last quarter (or so) of the journal was blank. Monty never had the chance to complete it; his untimely end coming just one day after the last entry was completed. Herewith that entry, which was written in a steady and composed hand:

'21st October 1845: HMS Rattler, North Sea.



I trust that I can soon relieve myself of involvement in this ghastly affair. I now intend to resign my commission and engage in pursuit of nowt more dangerous than being a country gentleman and being a good husband to my darling Lettice.



But alas, I must first attend to business. Winds and tides prevailing, to-morrow, I am to deliver the 'consignment' to those science-wallahs at the Woolwich Arsenal. Quite what they intend to do with it, I know not - and frankly I care not. I am content that my as soon as I have made my delivery, I can consider returning to normality - although whether I am able to purge my memory of recent sordid events is another matter. I pray that I am able to protect Lettice from it all.'

I could not help but be moved by this passage. It reminded me that if Monty had not perished then it is most likely that I would never have enjoyed the privileged and happy upbringing that was afforded me by Aunt Lettice. Conversely, Aunt Lettice may have had the family that she so desired and deserved.

I was jolted from my daydream by Elspeth. She sniffed and dried a tear. She had also read Monty's words.

'So,' she said, her voice affected by emotion. 'Monty was swept from his ship before they reached the Woolwich Dockyard?'

'No. I always understood that Monty was directed to go to Silvertown and that it was an accident on the ferry - not on Rattler - that did for him. At least, Aunt Lettice and Uncle Charlie stood by that version of events.'

'Strange that he doesn't mention Silvertown in his diary ... ' she sniffed.

'Hmmm? Well ... you know how military organisations work. Spur of the moment stuff, emerging situations and all that,' I replied in a rather distracted manner as I scanned earlier pages, keeping the detail from Elspeth's sight.

Flashing before my eyes was quite the most curious, intriguing and frightening documentation that I had ever seen. Some examples:

'I have seen transcripts of conversations between HMG and our visitors. Strange! The official reports mentioned that they had all perished in the accident!'

'Through my eyeglass I saw in the distance what at first sight I took to be a great ship. And yet - NO SAILS! NO FUNNELS! NO PADDLES!'

'When my chaps arrived to isolate the area, there was no wreckage. In its place was a carefully-broken facsimile that was left for us to mull over.'

Much as I wanted to read, this diary had to be secreted and secured (at least in the short term).

'Elspeth! Pass me your copy of Dracula would you, please.'

I held a book now in each hand; they were roughly the same size. And so to my wife's horror I proceeded to tear Stoker's novel from its cover.

'Whatever are you doing Knolly? It's Millie's remember?'

I slotted the empty cover around my Uncle's diary.

'Camouflage, Elspeth! Camouflage!'

'You're hiding it from whom, Knolly? What have you kept from me pray tell?'

She snatched both books from me and sat upon them.

'Right then! Now I have your attention you can fill in the gaps for me!'

With the diary (and Dracula) now hidden under the skirts of Elspeth's travelling attire, the rest of the journey to the station was taken up with my recounting the tale of the discussion two nights ago with the rank and smelly Baddick and the fact that I had been of much interest to an American looking gentleman. For her part, Elspeth listened intently and only spoke after I had finished.

'Well, that's a fine pickle, isn't it? Are you certain that no one has been following since then?'

'Yes, no... I don't know really?'

'....and what about Bertie and Mr Hobbes, are they aware of this ... this watcher?'

'Um.... No dear.' I perked up. 'But then they didn't mention anything in their reply to my telegram, so that's good.'

'And what about John?'

The look on my face told her all that she needed to know.

'So you have kept all this to yourself, have you?'

How could I deny?

'Yes, and I am most terribly sorry. But it truly didn't seem all that important until...'

'Until this!' She flourished the diary ..... Or she would have done had she not grasped the now coverless novel. She dropped it into her bag and brandished the dairy. 'This!'

'The diary, yes. I am now a little concerned that there may be others keeping an eye on our comings and goings - especially as Biggfat has told me that someone wants the "Y-File" too.'

'So ... Exactly how much danger are we in? Where would you place us on a scale that spans "Mild peril" to "Imminent doom", eh?' she said, rubbing her tummy as a reminder that there was an innocent also embroiled in this.

'Elspeth, I just don't know,' I admitted as I squeezed her hand.

'I'm glad that you are coming with me, though, for I feel that it would not be a good time to leave you at home.'

'Well, just in case - I'll keep the diary in my bag and you can pocket the novel,' she said as she kissed me on the cheek.

I could see that when they eventually got to meet, Elspeth and young Miss Poppins were going to get along far too well. Poor child!

Marlborough station was certainly very busy when we arrived and the platform was quite full of country-folk either on their way to Andover or Swindon, or onwards like ourselves to the great Metropolis itself. We seemed to be attracting rather a lot of attention judging by the surreptitious glances, and an exclusion zone seemed to have formed around Elspeth and myself. One can only assume that this was due to the elephant gun which now hung from my shoulder; everyone else was armed only with umbrellas, it seemed ...

I was thankful that we had first class tickets for our whole journey home which we had hoped would afford us a certain amount of privacy. However, on this segment of the journey it only seemed to guarantee us a seat - although being able to sit on a train far outweighs the social conundrum of who one's immediate travelling companions might be. As Elspeth pointed out in sotto voice (one never seems to speak in normal tones in such confines) she would always be able to get a seat, the advantage of being a women has not been lost in this modern age. Alas, the diary had to remain confined to Elspeth's bag until we were on the second leg.

Fortunately, we did not have to wait long for our connecting train. Once again, we found these London-bound folk rather disagreeable; they avoided making eye contact or exchanging the pleasantries of the day, and they were reluctant to offer space in the waiting room. Hence, we found ourselves on the platform where we found a cutting wind driving heavy rain along before it - all the hallmarks of a typical English winter. Elspeth was having difficulty with her brolly and clung to me for extra support.

'It won't be any better in Scotland, my dear.' I muttered.

She fired back. 'I'm not cold you know! Look here!' she said as she turned to face me, pulling aside her top coat and blouse to allow me to peer down. 'See? I found another one!'

Where I would have expected to see a glimpse of flesh (or at the very least fine undergarments) I was instead not too happily rewarded with a view of white sparkling fabric.

'... and it's very warm too!' She continued, hastily fastening her buttons.

This demonstration of brazen hussiness was enough to ensure that our fellow travellers actively sought out alternative carriages once the train had pulled in, and thus it was that we were afforded the luxury of a first class compartment to ourselves - at least for now.

Once settled, Elspeth pulled out the diary now ensconced between the covers of the Bram Stoker novel....

The Great Knolly Archive

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