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.

The giant of fellow hesitated for a moment and Bertie/Caractacus breathed a sigh of relief. It was short lived however, as with a growl the assailant decided to ignore his Nanny and to let fly.

The fist hurtling towards my colleague's head was suddenly brought up short just inches from its target.

"Nanny said stop it!"


The familiar ragged figure was holding gently but firmly on to the ruffian's elbow.

"Now take your drink and go back to where you were, will you?"

A fresh pint of ale appeared at my arm which I slid along the bar towards the big chap. He muttered something and shambled off back through the remaining patrons.

"Trouble just seems to follow you around Captain, doesn't it?" said the dishevelled individual positioned before me.

"Indeed it does. However I fear you have mistaken me for someone else. My name is Mr Stapleton and this is Mr Barrymore." I ensured that I replied in a solid manner for everyone close by to hear.

Bertie/Caractacus offered his hand and thought better of it, then thought he was being rude and so offered it again shakily.

"Would you care to join us ...er...Nanny?" he asked and then began to cough, no doubt affected by the whiff emanating from the shabby personage. Although I found the aroma less malodorous than on our original meeting, this evening's particular fragrance was obviously the lighter end of Baddick's range. I could still not see his/her face, though, on account of the shadows caused by the brim of the hat.

I nodded at Bertie/Caractacus suggestion, it was a good idea, for it was obvious that Baddick's timely arrival had more to do with rescuing Bertie/Caractacus from almost losing his head.

"Sound idea Caractacus," I said. "Nanny, you look a glass of port person... yes?"

"That will be just fine, kind sir," replied Baddick.

Leaving Bertie at the bar, I led the way back to our table. Hobbes stared wide-eyed and tried not to gag as I offered a chair to our pungent paladin.

"Nanny, may I present Mr John Smith..."

"I know who he is, Captain. But if you want to play silly buggers with names and such like who am I to argue?"

"Fine," I whispered. "So, tell me Baddick; were you keeping an eye on me or do you have information of a pertinent nature?"

"You weren't easy to find Commander," Baddick replied.

I smiled inwardly at this, and Hobbes chortled.

"Until, that is, someone mentioned the 'Ghost Train' had been on the move at an odd time of day."

Hobbes made as if to say something but thought better of it, as this would mean breathing through his nose. Baddick glanced at him and carried on.

"Lots of people know about that train, professor - they just keep it to themselves."

Baddick gave what passed for a smile to Hobbes, who waggled his eyebrows.

"Now to business."

Baddick explained that the Admiralty office had indeed been visited by my two former female assailants and their male bodyguard earlier that morning, and that on their departure they seemed very satisfied with themselves. From this I deduced that they now had the Y-File in their possession. Whilst I hoped that Biggfat had not put up a fight and just let them have it, my concern for my superior though would have to wait for a while.

Bertie/Caractacus appeared with the drinks and food.

"Here you are Nanny .."

"Mr Barrymore, this is Baddick..."

"Oh...oh...but Kno ...you said they smelt like a ...Oh damn!"

"Yes I did, but it would seem disguises are all the rage at the moment, and here we all know who we really are."

Baddick turned to Bertie and gave some advice.

"You need to work on the accent. And watch that bloody coat!"

Bertie blinked at me: "SO IS IT MALE OR FEMALE?"

"I DON'T KNOW" was my reply "AND I DON'T INTEND TO FIND OUT. BUT PLEASE FEEL FREE TO PROBE THE RAGGED LAYERS TO FIND OUT FOR YOURSELF."

Bertie blinked a reply that I shall not reproduce here.

Baddick gulped down the glass of port during the blinkage.

"You'll be safe now that folk have seen me with you, but I would not advise hanging around too long. You look out of place."

"We look out of place?" said Bertie rather indignantly. "Well, that's a bit pot calling the kettle ..."

Baddick moved closer to Bertie, who fortunately had the presence of mind to anticipate the move and quickly took a deep breath.

"I'm not the one that nearly didn't walk out of here, mateyboy! Now, I suggest you finish your food and drink, give the owner a decent tip and be on your way, hmmmm?"

Baddick got up to go; Bertie and Hobbes exchanged glances of relief.

"Commander, a quiet word if you would be so kind?"

I followed the rag-covered shape as it shambled its way outside the pub.

"Your wife enjoyed her shopping trip. So did the kitten. Now there's an odd one," he said.

"You had them followed?"

"I thought you'd like me to. Difficult though. Cat girlie's quite sneaky, eyes all over the place and very protective of your missus."

I nodded.

"Thank you for that. You will make sure that they get to the station tomorrow night for me?" I asked.

"I will that. Now get back in the pub before your glocky chum knocks another glass over."

Chuckling, I bid him/her/it goodnight and almost made the mistake of offering my hand. I strolled back into the fug and noise of the Camden. The general hubbub had returned to it's earlier level, and was now supplemented by music. Well, I say "music"; it was the sounds of someone playing the piano and singing. I appreciate that my use of the terms "playing the piano" and "singing" suggest some kind of proficiency in those disciplines. However, the plinky-plonky noises that emanated from the piano bore no relation to the tune that was announced; the noises that emanated from the mouth of the artist also bore no relation to the tune that was announced, and curiously bore no relation to the noises that emanated from the piano. Still, it seemed to delight the local crowd, who were also adding their own voices to the cacophony.

As I espied my chums, I also noticed that Bertie was hurriedly and clumsily pocketing his notebook and pencil. It was good to see that neither my pie nor my pint had been touched and I tucked in as hastily as a gentleman could in company. As soon as I sat down, the pair began their questions: How had we been so easy to find? What was the cause of that bloody smell? And why was it not as bad as I'd recounted earlier? And why the name "Nanny"?

I had answers for precisely none of these. While Bertie continued to prattle on with semi-rhetorical questions that I failed to answer, Hobbes was deep in thought.

After a short while, Bertie changed the subject.

"So what's the plan then? As far as I can see, we have three carriages and no engine. How will that work?" he enquired quietly.

I looked from one to the other and swallowed a particularly tasty lump of pie before responding.

"Is it not obvious?"

Bertie leaned back. "Well, apparently not. But I suppose we could stop the express tomorrow night and couple up our ones to the....back ..of...it."

He stopped looking at my wide eyes and grin.

"Knolly, you're mad!" he whispered as he grinned at me and leaned back on his chair.

"...and that is why, my friends, we must head back now to check what line the express uses. It wouldn't do to hold up the wrong train, now, would it?"

Bertie's chair lost it's balance; he went with it, his notepad spilling out of his coat in the process. I rescued it and pocketed it for safe keeping.

"Come now Caractacus! These folk have had enough excitement for one evening," I said as loudly as possible. I helped him to his feet and in the direction of the door with Hobbes bringing up the rear.

The fresher, Baddick-less air outside of the pub was very welcome, and we arrived back at Annie and Clarabelle in a very jocular mood. Strangely enough, it seemed a much shorter route on the return journey, confirming that one drink is sometimes enough in good company.

Meeds, however, was less than jocular, especially as he could see that his hero Hobbes had obviously had a good time with such reprobates as Bertie and myself. The chief made a great point of looking at his watch and tutting.

"Cutting it a bit fine, aren't we Commander?"

"Meeds, I am not late and even if I had been, I know full well that you would have made copious notes to inform us which line the express uses. As we are minutes early, let us move on to the signal box ahead and see what happens, shall we?"

Meeds looked to Hobbes, seeing the old chap as something of a safe port of sanity in this obvious sea of lunacy. All Meeds got was a silly smile and a waggle of an eyebrow.

From our vantage point it looked as though the city was shutting down, far fewer trains were moving about now, and many of those were small engines shunting empty carriages this way and that in preparation for the following day.

Meeds unfolded a card timetable and checked his watch.

"She should be pulling away from the platform about now and will pass us in about five to ten minutes."

"Plenty of time for another pint, then!" exclaimed Bertie as joke … to which Meeds did not take at all well.

The wind was getting up and so we huddled close under the signal box stairway. This was a shrewd move as it ensured that the fellows in the signal box were not aware of our presence, thereby assisting our element of surprise the following evening.

"So how do we get 'The Train' from where she sits now to where we want it to be tomorrow night?" asked Bertie, trying to snap out of his frivolous mood and appear more serious.

"The 'Ghost Train' will come back this way tomorrow. It may not be a Navy sanctioned mission, but I can call in certain – shall we say – favours," replied Meeds.

"Oh,right! Thought of everything then?" asked Bertie.

"I believe so, yes," replied Meeds rather clinically.

I checked my watch and pointed in the distance

"This must be it now," I suggested.

The express train had only just left the station and could not have been up to full speed, and yet it seemed to bear down upon us like a bullet. The noise was tremendous as it hurtled past our hidey hole.

"NO PROBLEM WORKING OUT WHICH LINE IT USES" I blinked to Bertie who had his hands over his ears.

"I'VE GONE DEAF" he replied.

The express continued rattling past and we continued to watch until the guards van and its little red light went off into the distance. We looked at each other.

"Any unforeseen problems, gentlemen?" I asked.

"No," replied Meeds and Hobbes.

"Good show! This time tomorrow, we'll be Scotland-bound, eh?!"

Bertie remained quite silent but looked uneasy.

"What is it, Bertie?"

"Do we know how to work the signal levers?" he asked.

"At the moment, no. But I have no doubt that by tomorrow, we will be experts in the field."

"That's a relief," he said with a mighty yawn. "And now, I think I should like to try out my hammock."

The Great Knolly Archive

The Shepherd and
huzzah4knolly

14.05.09 Front Page

Back Issue Page