Julius and the Watchmaker

Tim Hehir

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~
CH A PTER

LONDON

Monday 3rd July, 1837

3:56 PM

ive me seven extra long seconds, thats all I ask, thought Julius Higgins as he sprinted around the corner into Ironmonger Lane. Crimper McCready and his two henchboys were close and gaining. Julius weaved among the window-shoppers, looking for the sign at the far end of the street. There it was, swinging in the breeze, like a hand waving to an old friend. Higgins Booksellers: Rare and Difcult to Find Books a Speciality. Only two seconds away. Julius collided with the brass doorknob, giving his ribs a sharp punch. He turned it and slipped inside. The shop bell tinkled violently as he slammed the door.
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Made it. Julius slumped against the frosted glass, holding his bruised side as he fought for breath. The triple fuse mantle clock on the shelf ticked disapprovingly, its second hand icking across its face like a wagging nger. From behind his counter, Mr Higgins adjusted his spectacles. Good afternoon, young Caesar, he said. Googood, said Julius. His face was squashed into a grimace, and he clutched his aching side. Lost the rst round, I see, said the shops only customer. Julius stopped trying to breathe and looked up. The customer, a young gentleman wearing a bright red cravat, sniffed disinterestedly. Just as Mr Higgins opened his mouth to speak, there was a hammering at the window. Three fat faces pressed themselves against the glass panels and six hands slapped out a tattoo. Come out, ya poncy toff, called Crimper McCready. His small eyes, like currants in a bun, searched the shop for his quarry. The natives giving you gyp? asked the gentleman. Er said Julius. Allow me, said the gentleman. He snatched his walking cane from the counter and spun it
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through his ngers. Julius jumped out of his path as he opened the door. The hammering on the glass stopped when the lock spring clicked into place behind the gentleman. In the silence the clock ticked twice before Julius pulled the display table out from the window. The third volume of Gibbons Decline and Fall fell off the table, somersaulting once and landing at on the oor, with a smack. Have a care of the stock! said Mr Higgins. Julius winced as he edged himself between the table and the window to peer though. Outside, the gentleman had stepped into the centre of the narrow cobbled street, still spinning the cane through his ngers. Crimper, Fosdyke and Grimshaws eyes narrowed to calculating slits. A ick of Crimpers head sent his two sidekicks wide to ank the gentleman. They preferred nailing beetles to their school desks or twisting small childrens ears until they cried on their tip-toes, but they could stretch to doing down a spruced-up gent, if the opportunity presented itself. While they weighed up their chances though, the gentleman took them by surprise. He pulled the handle of his walking cane and slid out a long, steel blade. The blade icked through the air, ashing as it caught the light, and its tip poked between Crimpers teeth. The gentleman
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advanced, backing Crimper against the wall. Fosdyke made a whimpering sound and Grimshaw stepped back, tripping over the kerb. Ha! Ha! Ouch, laughed Julius from the other side of the glass. Now, this is the way to deal with currant buns. Whats the to-do, Julius Caesar Higgins? asked his grandfather, polishing his spectacles with a large white handkerchief. Nothing. The window-shoppers gawped, some of them remaining there to see what would happen next. You are dribbling on my blade, boy. That is unacceptable, said the gentleman. Aagggg oorrry, gargled Crimper. The gentleman raised a questioning eyebrow in Fosdykes direction. Es sayin es sorry, ersir, said Fosdyke, his knees and his bottom lip trembling. Is he, indeed? The gentleman pondered. The spectators held their breaths. Well, contrition must be applauded. I suppose, he said at last, removing the blade and wiping the saliva off on Crimpers sleeve. Everyone breathed again, including Crimper. Ill show leniency on this occasion. But, mark this, the next time we meet, Ill slice off your tongue for my collection, and therell be no prior debate.
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The blade slid back into its cane and snapped home with a metallic click. The gentleman looked up and raised an eyebrow again. You are still here? he said. Crimper turned and sprinted back down the street as if the devil himself wanted to borrow a sixpence. Fosdyke and Grimshaw ran in the opposite direction. The gentleman returned inside, retrieved his top hat from a stack of three books and icked a speck of dust from its silken rim. Julius stared at him from the display table. He guessed the gentleman to be close to thirty. A sculpted nose perfectly divided his long face pale. Black lashes bordered his darkly, glinting eyes and black hair swept, like a wave of ink, over his crown, down to his crisp white shirt collar. You deliver, I presume, said the gentleman, tapping one of the books on the counter. Well, yes, that is, if you require it, sir, said Mr Higgins. I do, he replied, pulling a calling card from his breast pocket and tossing it on the counter. And if you would be so kind as to inform me if you hear anything of that, ahemother matter we discussed? Harrisonsahemdiary, sir? Precisely. Certainly, sir, most denitely. I shall make enquiries, sir. Excellent.
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The customer dipped his head in a bow, then winked at Julius as he walked out of the shop. The clock ticked. Julius took a deep breath, his bruised rib making him wince. Nice day at school, Julius Caesar? asked Mr Higgins. Pardon? said Julius, walking to the door and leaning out across the threshold to watch the gentleman strolling away, swinging his cane, whistling a jolly tune. Did you learn anything? School? Oh, yes. Apart from how to run, that is. Yes, ouch. Mr Higgins looked at the clock face behind him and then at his pocketwatch to check they matched. He always liked to know what time it was and that the timepieces in his life were in agreement. He turned around to see his grandson standing at the counter like an eager customer. Who was that? said Julius. That, my boy, was, Jack Springheel, Esquire, said Mr. Higgins, holding his spectacles in front of the calling card. Ill deliver his books, grandfather, said Julius, reading the spine of the top book. Oh? Theyre only books about watchmaking, you know.
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Ill do it after dinner. Volunteering for delivery duty? Pray tell, young Caesar, what are you plotting? Nothing. I know his type, my boy. Not one of natures big tippers, if that is what you were thinking. No, it wasnt. And that cravat. My poor eyes. What was wrong with it? A real gentleman would know better. Neckwear comes in one colour and that colour is whiteblack is permissible if you are feeling rakish. I thought red suited him. Which proves that you are no gentleman either, Julius Higgins.

~
Directly after dinner, Julius bolted out of the shop with the parcel of books clutched tightly under his arm. He scurried along Paternoster Road while the pale sun shone half-heartedly through a veil of ashen clouds. The breeze from the Thames estuary chilled the summer evening, adding to Juliuss shiver of excitement. To his left, above the roofs, the dome of St Pauls Cathedral loomed dark. The stench of the Thames tickled his nosehe liked the summer river, it was familiar.
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Turning into Warwick Lane, he stopped and took out the calling card with a trembling hand. Jack Springheel, Esquire Above No. 26, Warwick Lane Cheapside, London Julius looked down the empty street. Even this early in the evening it wore a grey cloak of danger a place deserted and up to no good. Maybe this wasnt such a good idea, Higgins. He rubbed the sore spot on his side. The pain reminded him why he had volunteered to brave the London streets at this late hour. He swallowed hard and entered Warwick Lane, walking past a dark, grimy shop window. In its reection he saw a sudden movement. He stopped and looked across the street. Something moved in the doorway. He squinted to get a better view. It was an amorphous shape, the same dappled greys and browns as the doorway. What was it? A giant lizard? An escaped bear? Then Julius saw a row of a dozen pairs of eyesthe whites standing out in the gloom like porcelain marbles. They looked directly at him. Julius jutted his chin out and squinted as he peered closer. The eyes all blinked simultaneously. Oh, bloody hellre. He realised what he was seeing. It was a huddle of
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street urchinsstaring at him, their eyes now still and unblinking. He was marked. An icicle slithered down his spine. He walked, faster this time, quickening his pace still further while scanning the soot-blackened shopfronts and doorways for their numbers. Where was it? Where was Springheels lodgings? It had to be here, the calling card said so. He could hear movement behind him but he dared not look. He kept walking, trying not to run, squinting in at the shop doors. Number 24! There it wasthe paint was peeling off the number above the door of the second-hand clothiers, but denitely number 24. That meant 26 must be next. It must. There! Number 26, in brass letters screwed into the lintel. It was a pawnshop. He could tell by the three brass balls hanging above him. Out of the corner of his eye, Julius saw the street urchins edging closer like crabs on the mud ats when a cadaver washes up. Cripes. Julius pretended not to notice themhe put his hand above his eyes and peered through the window. It was too dark to see inside. He could hear the faint rustle of their clothes as the urchins moved closer. He pulled out the calling card again. What does above 26 mean, for heavens sake? He hammered on the door. The scampering feet quickened. He spun around. The urchins had fanned out across the empty street. They froze like demonic
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statues caught in a game of catch, crouching low and watching him with their porcelain eyes. They breathed together, like one creature with many lungs, waiting for their prey to move. He backed away, holding their gaze, running his hand along the wall and the window ledge as he went. The wall disappeared. His heart leapt as his hand groped the empty space. With a terrifying silence the urchins slowly stood up. He looked around to where the wall should have been. An alleyway ran along the side of the shop. Julius ducked around the corner and was just about to sprint for home when he saw an open doorway a few paces along. Bare, dry oorboards and some steps were all he could see inside. He leapt into the doorway, pressing himself into the darkness as he listened to the sound of small bare feet scampering, like rats across the cobblestones. His eyes took a second to adjust. He was at the bottom of a ight of stairs that went up into grey gloom and disappeared around a corner. Outside, the feet scampered closer. Julius ran up the steps, came to the corner and looked up. The silhouette of a short, fat man was shambling down the steps towards him. He pressed himself against the wall and held his breath. The mans large belly squashed against Juliuss bruised ribs, pressing him against the wall. Julius opened his mouth to scream but the stale odours of sweat, cigars and brandy punched at his
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nostrils, making him retch instead. Whos there, damn you? said the man. Sorry, sir. Im looking for Mr Springheel, sir. Be gone, foul wretch or Ill thrash you purple, he said as he strained to squeeze his bulk past Julius. Julius pushed himself forward and bolted up the stairs clutching the parcel tight. Young rascal, shouted the man, as he lumbered on down the stairs. On the bare landing four greasy window panes let some light in. This is it. Now, dont make a complete fool of yourself, Higgins. He knocked on the door. He waited. No reply. Had he knocked too quietly? Julius knocked againtoo loudly this time. Immediately the door ung open to reveal Jack Springheel, Esquire. Damn you to Hades, what is it now? he shouted. Julius dropped the parcel.

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~
CH A PTER

Monday 3rd July, 1837

8:35 PM

ack Springheel glared at Julius and then at the brown paper parcel lying on the oor. Upon my word, what a lightning delivery service, he said as his face slid into a smile of welcome. Julius nearly tripped over the parcel as he stooped to pick it up. Forgive me, I thought you were Clements, come back to plague me. Noits me. So I see. Come in, come in. Springheel stepped to one side and extended his arm in the direction of his chamber. Julius clutched the parcel to his chest and bobbed up and down, in a cross between a curtsey and a bow, as he edged past
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the gentleman and through the door. The rst thing Julius noticed about the room was that it was full of clocks. Clocks hung from every spare space on the walls; there were clocks along the mantelpiece, clocks on the large writing desk as well as the occasional clock lying upside down or on its side on the richly carpeted oor. The combined ticking sounded like a thousand steel-scaled snakes slithering across corrugated iron. Juliuss body vibrated under the hum. A re crackled in the replace, its heat licking hungrily at Juliuss face. Jack Springheel icked his coat tails up and sat down in an over-stuffed armchair. Well, thank you for your promptitude, young man, he said. Oh, yes. Here you are, said Julius, handing over the parcel, then rummaging through his pockets for the bill. Springheels long ngers untied the string and unwrapped the brown paper to reveal three books. He ran his nose along the top of one of them and sat back, satised with the fragrance. I love the smell of a good book, dont you? Yes, sir. Especially books about watchmaking, cant get enough of them. My favourite subject in all the world. Julius found the bill and his fumbling ngers unfolded it. Springheels eyes fell on the piece of
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paper. He sniffed, as if dismissing an offence. Do you have the time? said Springheel, his dark eyes looking far away into the re. Julius was not sure if he had heard correctly. He looked around the room, at all the clocks. Without exception, they showed the same time, 8:37, even the second hands were synchronised. Its eight and thirty-seven, if you please sir. So late. said Springheel with a sigh. Where has the time gone? Julius waited. Springheel appeared to be daydreaming. The time ticked on. Take the bill to Clements, said Springheel, waking suddenly. He will pay. Clements, Sir? Yes, Clements. He runs the tatty jerryshop downstairs. He and I are business partners, you see. He takes care of any tawdry complications. Oh, I seebutI really do need to be paid this evening, sir. And so you shall, my young friend, so you shall. But Clements must pay. Julius folded and unfolded the bill a couple of times to help him think. If he returned without the money he would have to put up with his grandfathers usual chuckle of disappointment over the porridge in the morning. Drats, and blooming double dead rats. Julius decided to put the payment question to one side for
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the moment and come to the real reason for his visit. I was wondering, sir he said, stufng the bill into his pocket. Springheel placed the tips of his ngers together, forming a pyramid. Yes? Cripes. I was wonderinghow you did it, sir? Did what exactly? Julius felt rooted to the spot in terror, as if ivy were coming up through the oor entwining his legs. Thatwith Crimper. It was amazing. You really put the wind up them. Oh, that. Yes, it was fun, wasnt it? Friends of yours? No. I didnt think so. Cant abide a bully. How do youhow do you make people fear you? It wasnt just the blade, it was something elsesomething about you. Want to know, do you, young? Julius, sir. Julius Higginswell, Julius Caesar Higgins, to be precise, that is. Thats what I was christened. Everyone calls me Julius or just Higgins except for my grandfather. He insists on using my middle name as wellrather embarrassingespecially in company, I mean. Shut up, shut up, shut up. Caesars what I christened you and Caesars what Ill call you,
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he saysha, ha. Stop talking, Higgins, for pitys sake. Really? said Springheel, raising an eyebrow. Where was I? Oh, yestheres not much to it. Its simply a matter of convincing your adversary that you are mad enough, bad enough or stupid enough to carry out your threat. Oh, I see, said Julius, not really seeing. You see, Julius, life is a game and games have rules. The rule in this game is power. If you have power over another you can bend them to your will. And how do you gain power over another? Umm. Fear, boy. Fear, said Jack Springheel, leaping from his chair and looming over Julius like a cobra ready to strike. The re in the grate ared, lling the room with an orange glow. Julius screamed and fell backwards, shielding his face with his arm. He cowered, waiting for the cane sword to slice through the air and run him through. Instead, Springheel offered his hand. Pardon the melodramatics, Julius, he said, pulling Julius to his feet again. Only trying to illustrate my point. Springheel sat back down and placed his ngers in a pyramid formation again. Julius swallowed hard. The re retreated, and the clocks ticked. You see, Julius, I allow people to presume that I am completely without goodness, full to the brim with
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badness. People presume that I will do anything to get what I want, without the least regard for harm or consequences. Springheel tilted his head, like a hawk getting a bead on a vole. I am what the common herd would wish they could be, Julius, free from remorse or fear. And, and would you, sir? Would I what? Do anything? Springheel smiled wearily. Of course. The words stabbed at Juliuss innards like a blade of ice. Bloody hellre. The conversation hung unnished as Springheel studied the boy over the tops of his ngers. Julius found himself short of breath, as if the roaring re were sucking the oxygen from the room. Does he want me to leave now? He still hasnt paid. Time seemed to stretch and distortor was he just becoming lightheaded under Springheels stare? Julius swayed, about to swoon. Springheels ngers beat time like the ticking of a clock. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. Julius wanted to run but his legs were still rooted to the spot. Then, suddenly, there was silence. All the clocks stopped. Good night, Julius, said Springheel, his voice
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lling the room, like the roar of a steam-train in a tunnel. Julius bolted for the door. He wrestled with the handle, Jack Springheels laughter boxed his ears, following him out onto the landing. I knew this was a mistake, Higgins. He can collect his own books next time. Julius missed the second step, tumbling head rst down the stairs and slammed into the wall at the corner. He leapt to his feet and took the rest of the steps three at a time until he came to the bottom where he wedged himself into the dark corner to catch his breath and tally his injuries. Nothing appeared broken, in fact Julius was not aware of any pain at all. Only terror. He mesmerised you, Higgins, thats what he did. Ive read about that sort of thing. Hes some sort of parlour magician, or something. After a minute Julius felt composed enough for his next move. He retrieved the bill from his pocket and rubbed his bruised rib while he thought. Having made his decision, he peeped out the door. The only sound his own breathing. The street urchins had dispersed or were hiding, waiting to ambush him. Leastways they were nowhere to be seen. Taking a resolute breath, he ran back to the corner and looked up and down the street. No sign of them. He ran to Clements pawnshop and hammered on the door. He waited. No response. He hammered again. Go away, were closed, bellowed a voice from
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within the dark interior. Julius hammered again, as loud and as fast as his pulse pounding in his ears. Angry footsteps approached and an indignant, red face appeared at the window. It was the man he had passed on the stairs, he was sure of it. Go away, I said. Were closed. Julius leaned back out of the doorway and looked up and down the streetno sign of the urchins regrouping yet. He frantically straightened out the crumpled bill and slammed it against the glass. Clements bloodshot eyes scanned the words and he realised what it was. Youve got the wrong door. Springheel lodges upstairs. Kindly trouble him for your money. Julius leaned in closer to the glass and as loudly as he dared he said. He sent me to get the money from you, sir. Ohwellin that case, come back next week, Ill see what I can do. Now run along, like a good boy. Julius stepped back from the doorway and looked up and down the street again. Only the dread of his grandfathers disappointment at breakfast stopped him from running home there and then. A rodent-like movement in a shop doorway on the other side of the street caught his eye. Double blooming, bloody cripes. The street urchins were waiting for him. They were probably staked out at intervals up and
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down the street and in the alleyway, the smallest keeping a lookout for peelers. Something about these particular urchins unnerved Julius more that usual. His only hope was to get the money from Clements, slip out the back door and sprint for home like a derby winner with a tail wind. Open this door or Ill get Mr Springheel down here to make you, hissed Julius, as he held his face close to the windowpane. Terror gave him courage. To his complete surprise, his words had the desired effect. Clements dgeted with his watch chain. Steady on, now. Theres no need for threats. Open up, open up, hissed Julius again, baring his teeth and clenching his eyebrows. Bolts rasped open and keys turned, and before Julius knew it he was inside. The shop smelled of tallow candles. In the shadows Clements made for the counter. Julius secured one of the many bolts across the door and made his way past heaps of junk on tables and hanging from hooks like dried-out insects in a spiders parlour. How much, damn you, said Clements, fumbling to light a candle. Five pounds. What? For a few tatty books? Theyre rare rst editions. Hard to nd andand highly sought after, said Julius, repeating the stock phrases his grandfather bandied about in the shop.
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Oh, very well, very well, said Clements. He grunted with exertion as he dipped down out of sight behind the counter. The sounds of a safe being unlocked and locked again followed before Clements re-immerged and tossed ve sovereigns on the counter. There you are. Now be off with you. Julius pocketed the money, dropped the bill on the counter and was about to ask to be let out the back when Clements caught him by the lapel. Was one of the books Harrisons diary? No. No? Thats right. But youre looking for it, arent you? Making enquiries and all that? he said, shaking Julius roughly as though to shake the answer out of him. Yes. Let me go, I have to get home. Clements relaxed his grip enough for Julius to wrench himself free, knocking over a stuffed weasel with his elbow in the process. He ran to the door and pulled the bolt. I say, you will be able to nd it, the diary, I mean? Its hard to say. These things take time, said Julius, as he stuck his head out of the door to look up and down the street. The sky was still light grey but the street was growing darker: twilightthe predators time. Julius took a deep breath and sprinted along the
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pavement. At the second shop doorway, a foot shot out and tripped him. He ew headlong towards the agstones.

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~
CH A PTER

Monday 3rd July, 1837

8:53 PM

ulius tucked his head in. His shoulder hit the ground rst, and pain, sliced through his body. He banged his right knee as he rolled out onto the road and he squirmed there in agony. Through the pain, Julius wondered if he heard the ve sovereigns jingling along the ground. When he had composed himself enough to look up he saw that he was surrounded by the street urchins. Double dead rats with scabies. There were a dozen of them, girls and boys ranging in age from three to ten or eleven. A dozen pairs of cold eyes watched him. Round faces and ragged clothes the colour of the dirt, bricks and cobblestones around them. It took Julius only a few seconds to
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weigh up the situation. First, the coins had not fallen out of his pocket because the urchins would not be standing there if money was rolling down the street. Second, they did not know that he had ve pounds on him anyway; if they did, well, he would have been torn limb from limb before he hit the ground. No, the urchins were only after amusement. Although Julius was fourteen, he was thin and small for his age, so they probably took him for a twelve year old. He looked scared and puny and a long way from home: what better victim to practise their villainy on? The urchins stared at Julius, waiting for him to recover before they made their next move. Now look here, Ill call a rozzer if The urchins erupted into laughter. He was clearly an entertaining victim. Neddys up, said one of the girl-urchins, at which they all instantly stopped laughing and pulled small clubs, coshes and sticks from under their rags. Oh, bloody hell! Now, wait a minute Sure ng squire, said the girl. We got all night, we ave. Tell you wat, gov. Give us a duce and we wont do ya down. Cant say fairer n at, can we? Julius was staring wide-eyed at the urchins, trying to imagine what Jack Springheel, Esquire would do in this situation, when the ground began to tremble. The urchins looked at the girl-urchin who glared at Julius. Julius shrugged, not wanting to be thought
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responsible for anything going awry on their street. Then a sound, like a roar, bubbled up from the cobblestones beneath them. The urchins looked around, their eyes growing wider and wider. The trembling increased making them unsteady on their feet. Wots appening, Emily? said one of the smaller boys. Shaddup, said the girl, looking worried. The roar was getting louder and closer. It seemed to be coming from a point a few feet away, behind Julius. He looked around. Through a gap in the gang of urchins he saw the cobblestone rippling, like water on a pond when a stone has been thrown in. The roar was getting louder. The urchins retreated behind the girl. Then a small circle of cobblestones ew into the air as something shot up from under the ground. It only rose a foot or two before landing back on the road with his feet spread apart. It crouched, like a demon in a pantomime, about to spring. Julius and the urchins stared. He looked like a Chinaman. He was small in stature with a shaved head and orange robes, like a bed sheet, wrapped around him. He held his small, delicate hands out as if they were claws and roared like a demented lion from the Zoological Gardens. The urchins screamed and ed in all directions. Juliuss throbbing knee kept him from leaping up and running away too. He still had the ve pounds on him
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though, he could offer those in exchange for his life, or his soul, if needed. He waited, helpless and beyond terror. The Chinaman straightened up, smiled shyly to Julius, placed his palms together and bowed. Julius stared. The man then chuckled to himself, stretched his back and looked around, as if he were a new arrival in a strange and exotic land. Then, noticing the hole he had made in the road, he tutted to himself and started to retrieve the cobblestones. He tried to repair the damage he had caused and all the while he hummed a tuneless tune. Julius stared and his knee went on throbbing. Once the repair was complete, the Chinaman patted the cobblestones with his bare foot and then seemed to remember something. He took a folded piece of paper from his robes and held it out to Julius. Julius looked at the piece of paper. Dont accept it, Higgins. Its going to mean a ton of trouble. The man jiggled the paper close to Juliuss face and smiled shyly as if trying to coax a baby to accept a spoonful of treacle. Julius started to imagine what would happen if the strange, little man stopped smiling. He reached out and took it, half expecting it to burn his ngers. The paper felt normal to the touch. Phew. The Chinaman bowed again and walked away down the street humming to himself and fading away as he wentuntil he completely vanished. The sweat
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on Juliuss skin turned cold. Whered he go, Higgins? His throbbing knee distracted him. He rubbed it back to lifehe would need it to get home quick before the urchins regrouped or anymore strange characters showed up. The folded paper was thrust into his pocket and forgotten.

~
Julius slid his key into the lock at Higgins bookshop. The bell tinkled as he slipped inside. Light escaping from under the curtain behind the counter told him that his grandfather was still up. He limped into the parlour and threw the ve sovereigns on the table in the centre of the room. Mr Higgins lifted his head from the book he was reading by the re and looked his grandson up and down. All in order? Yes. Any problems? No. Satised and a little surprised, the old man went back to his book, his stockinged feet roasting in front of the re. Julius went to the chair at the other side of the re, being careful not to limp. He slumped down into it and sighed. His shoulder, ribs and knee were all in pain but it was good to be home again. Success. Youve survived another day, Higgins. He could feel his
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body relaxing and sleepiness sweeping over him. Just as he was about to nod off, Julius glanced across at the book obscuring his grandfathers face. The title was written by hand in ne copperplate lettering. This being the diary of John Harrison in the Year of Our Lorde 1738 to 1757. Harrisons diary? You had the diary all the time? he exclaimed. Of course I did, young Caesar. Ive had it for years. But you told Mr Springheel that youd make enquiries. Yes, I did, didnt I. For special orders I always like to keep the customer waiting. It helps to up the price if its difcult to nd. Im trying discover its value at present. And, have you? No, not at all. Its incredibly tedious to tell you the truth, my boy. You see, John Harrison was the inventor of the chronometer. All he did his whole life long was to make clocks, nothing else. This diary seems to be about making his third prototype and then it goes on about the making a particularly complicated pocketwatch. That takes up most of the diary, in fact. I cant understand a word of it. Im really not sure how much I can charge for it yet. Well, Mr Springheels business partner is very interested in the diary too, but he didnt strike me as
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being the watchmaking type. Maybe theres something else in here, in that case. I love a good mystery, dont you? Sometimes. There was one odd thing though, come to think of it. Where was it now? said Mr Higgins, leang back through the diary. Ah yes, here it is. He read: I met withe a strange fellow this very morn. The gentleman called himself Professor Fox of the Guild of Watchmakers. (A guild of which I am inexplicably unaware.) He saide he did have a manner of a proposition he would be pleesed to put before me upon the making of a pocketwatch which would contain all manner of prodigious properties. The gentleman swore me to the utter most secrecy before he would speeke of what he was want to speeke there of. Hum, said Julius. Anything after that? Not specically about this Fox fellow. Just endless meanderings about this pocketwatch he decided to make. Hes no Daniel Defoe, more of a Their conversation was interrupted by a tapping on the windowpane. Julius and his grandfather both jumped and turned towards the small window overlooking the backyard. There, framed like a portrait, was the face of an elderly gentleman. He lifted his grey top hat and bowed lightly. Were closed, called out Mr Higgins nervously.
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The backyard was securely locked. Whoever this stranger was, he had no business there. The man appeared not to hear and tapped once more on the glass with the silver tip of his walking cane. Mr Higgins shufed to the window, closely followed by Julius. With his face to the window he called out. Off with you now, before I call a peeler.. The gentleman on the other side of the glass raised his hat once more and said, Im most terrible sorry to disturb you, Mr Higgins, only it is of the utmost importance that I speak with you. My name is Professor Fox. Did he say? whispered Mr Higgins out of the corner of his mouth. Yes, he did, whispered Julius. Julius and his grandfather stared at one another for only a moment before Mr Higgins came to a decision. He shufed back to his chair. Let him in. But dont say a word. Ill do the talking. Julius turned the key in the lock, slid the bolts top and bottom and turned the handle. The professor swept in through the back door like a gust of expensively scented wind. Good evening, Mr Higgins, said the gentleman cheerfully as Julius looked out through the gloom at the securely locked door at the other end of the small backyard. Whichever way the stranger had come in,
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it was not through there. When he returned to the parlour he looked around for Harrisons diary. It was nowhere to be seen. The professor was standing before the re, rubbing his backside and surveying the room appreciatively. Julius guessed him to be in his sixties, though he was still apparently t and sprightly. He wore a grey frock coat and trousers of the nest material and his blue-grey eyes sparkled like jewels. Yes, as I was saying, my apologies for the inconvenience, only it is of the utmost importance that I nd a particular book, said the professor, pulling a white silk handkerchief out from his shirt cuff and wiping his nely trimmed, white moustache from end to end. I have been traipsing from bookshop to bookshop, alas to no avail. You, Mr Higgins, are the last on my somewhat extensive list, and I simply could not wait until the morrow. Yes, of course, sir. Always glad to be of service to avid collectors. Which particular volume were you in search of ? Julius marvelled as his grandfathers calm exterior. He was a professional book dealer through and through. Its not a published volume as such, Mr Higgins. No, its rather an queer sh, dont you know. Its the handwritten diary of the famous watchmaker and inventor of the chronometer, Mr John Harrison.
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Rumour has it that he kept a secret dairy while toiling in his workshop for nineteen years to build his third prototype. It is that very diary I am in search of. Mr Higgins tapped his chin. Hmmnow let me think. I do recall having heard something once upon a time about such a diary. May I be so bold as to ask what your interest is in this book, sir? Oh, its nothing really. Its all about watchmaking. All very dreary to the uninitiated. No, its simply that it would complete my collection, ll a gap on my bookshelf, as it were, nothing more. But you intimated, sir, some urgency in the matter. Did I? said the professor, icking his handkerchief into shape and pushing it back up his sleeve. Oh, its simply that when I get an idea into my head I cannot rest until I have achieved my objective. I see, well, if you will leave me your card, sir, Ill be happy to make some enquiries. The professor produced his calling card with a ourish and bowed as he handed it over. Thank you and a very good night to you, Mr Higgins. Please, dont get up, the boy can see me out. With that, the professor swept out into the backyard. Well, go on, young Caesar, see the gentleman out, said Mr Higgins, squinting into the calling card. Out in the yard, Professor Fox was standing expectantly by the yard door. Julius lifted the key ring
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from the hook above the boot rack and went outside. I believe you may have something for me, young man, said the professor while Julius tried to insert the key in the lock. He stopped. Me? I am addressing Julius Caesar Higgins, am I not? Yes. A Tibetan fellow told me he gave you something earlier this evening. I believe it is addressed to me. You cant mistake him. Looks a little like a sunburnt Chinaman, dresses all in orange. Julius dropped the yard door key. What had he done with the note? He searched his pockets. There it was in his waistcoat pocket. Unfolding the piece of paper, he saw a small golden key. The paper was covered with strange symbols. It was not Greek, Chinese or Hebrew, he was sure of that. If it was indeed addressed to Professor Fox he had no way of knowing. I forgot all about it. There were so many strange things happening this evening, said Julius before he could stop himself. Drat. He bent down to retrieve the key to give him time to think. What things may one ask? Oh, nothing, just things, thats all. Did they have anything to do with a fellow by the name of Springheel, by any chance? I dont know what you mean, sir, said Julius, trying to force the key into the yard door lock.
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The professor lifted his pocketwatch from his waistcoat pocket and tried to read its face in the fading light. Do you have the time? he said Not again! No sir. But it must be well past nine oclock, I should think. Time is slipping past, is it not? said the professor, xing the boy with his blue-eyed stare. Who knows what the morrow may bring the weary traveller? EryesI mean, no. Julius opened the door. Maybe now he would leave. The professor stepped into the dark alley, turned and held out his hand. Juliuss eyes blinked a few times before he recalled that he still had the golden key and the piece of paper. He shoved them into the professors hand, hoping that would be the last of him. The professor tipped his hat. Thank you, young man. A pleasure to have made your acquaintance. He strode away, swinging his cane and humming a tuneless tune. Julius watched him walk all the way to the end of the alleyway. There, by the light from a scullery window, he saw the professor stop beside the silhouette of a tall, broad-shouldered man also wearing a top hat. Julius slammed the yard door and turned the key. If hes going to vanish into thin air, as well, I dont want to know. Back inside, Mr Higgins handed Julius the calling card and hopped around in front of the re dancing a jig.
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Professor Algernon P. Fox Nalanda University c/o Post Ofce Box 132 Kensington Now that, my boy, was a real gentleman. Yes, the white cravat gave it away. Sarcasm ill-becomes you, young Caesar. That was a man of experience and breeding. Who broke into our backyard. I think I can safely say that Mr Harrisons diary may well be the making of us, said Mr Higgins, ignoring Julius. You do? I do. Think of ittwo fellows appear in the space of one day. Both more interested than they would like to admit in a diary about watchmaking, of all things. And, one of them bears the name of a protagonist in that very diary, which was written a hundred years ago. All very intriguing, if you ask me. No, Julius Caesar, there is a lot more to this diary than meets the eye. Well keep the book under wraps until I can nd its true value. The longer they have to wait, the more theyll pay, he-he. Julius thought about the tall, broad-shouldered silhouette in the alley. Make sure you remember to lock up properly tonight, Higgins.

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CH A PTER

~
4

Tuesday 4th July, 1837

8:49 AM

The next morning, Julius walked the short distance to school. He stopped at the corner of Milk Street, poked his head out and looked up and downno sign of Crimper McCready. He ran across the road and along the pavement until he came the City of London School gate, where he mingled with the other pupils for camouage. Rounding the corner into the day yard, Julius breathed a sigh of relief. But in a moment a hand grabbed his collar and was whisked off to the back of the toilet block. Fosdyke and Grimshaw slammed him against the wall and waited while Crimper McCready took a nal drag from his cigar butt. All the other members of the secret smokers club stubbed out their
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butts and made hasty exits. Oh, well, at least youll get the beating over with nice and early, Higgins. Crimper was the biggest boy in the school as well as the oldest. The City of London School educated the sons of the local shopkeepers and professionals up to the age of fteen. The problem with McCready was that he had not managed to learn anything in all the time he had been there. His father, a well-to-do butcher, had insisted that the school keep his son until he was well enough versed in writing and arithmetic to take his rightful place in the family rm. At the age of seventeen this had not yet occurred, so the school still accepted fees from Mr McCready and the pupils accepted random and unprovoked beatings from Crimper. McCready screwed his currant-bun face into a sneer. Youre a toffy nosed, pooncey little prat, iggins. McCready was clearly exceptionally angry this morning. The difference between a beating given in anger and a beating given for amusement was as wide as Oxford Street. The run-in with Jack Springheel had shown him up in front of his minions. A particularly brutal retribution would be needed to put things right. Julius was thinking as fast as he could but it was difcult with Fosdyke and Grimshaw breathing their bad breath in his face.
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Yeah, es an pooncey nosed little prat, said Grimshaw. A pooncey nosed, toffy little prat, corrected Fosdyke, incorrectly. Youre gonna learn yourself a lesson, iggins, said McCready through gritted teeth as he pulled a knife from an inside pocket of his jacket. Im gonna cut your ears off. What? Julius looked into McCreadys black eyes had he heard him correctly? A wave of nausea spread through his body and his legs began to tremble. If you vomit on his shoes hell be even more annoyed with you, Higgins. Jack Springheel was right when he said that all you have to do is to convince your adversary that you are mad, bad or stupid enough to carry out your threat. McCready was incredibly stupid, and as for Fosdyke and Grimshawthey had not had to think for themselves since McCready came into their lives and they were not going to start now. If Crimper McCready wanted to cut someones ears off, who were they to argue? The blood-encrusted blade was held so close to Juliuss face that he could almost taste the steel and blood. For the rst time in his short life Julius realised how much he had taken his ears for granted. There was a daydream he liked to indulge while in his more reective momentsof surviving into adulthood, of marrying a quiet and pretty solicitors daughter and
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having his own successful bookshop in a fashionable street. Perhaps a child or two to take on trips to Margate and Bath in the summer. For some reasonhe could not put his nger on at this very moment Julius knew that if he did not have ears, then none of these things would come to pass. If he did not have ears he would have to plot a different course through life, a course he did not wish to contemplate, and all because of Crimper McCready. It seemed so monumentally unfair. Youre a stupid, fat, ignorant currant bun! Julius blurted out before he could stop himself. Oh, no! Shut your gob, Higgins. What? What did you call me, iggins? said Crimper, as he pulled the knife back over his shoulder and aimed it at Juliuss eye. You heard me, currant bun. Youre a fat, stupid, brainless, uselessfat, shouted Julius at the top of his voice. Permanent disgurement and now blindness or even death awaited him, but he was not going to accept it without a word or two of protest. Crimper McCready locked his tiny black eyes with Juliuss. Julius could see that nothing would stop the butchers son from killing him now. Please God, let it be quick and painless. While Julius was waiting for death, salvation arrived on the scene in the form of old Whacker OBrynn. The schoolmasters cane sliced through the
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air with the familiar whistle that had been terrifying his unlucky pupils for the past sixty-ve years. Crimper was the rst to scream out in pain as the cane came down across the backs of his legs. Amid a urry of cane and shirt cuffs, Grimshaw fell to the ground and ailed his arms above his head, attempting to fend off the blows. Next, Fosdyke received a whack across the back of his hands. There was pandemonium as Whacker OBrynn made the boys cavort around him in a waltz of pain. Whack, whack, whack, the blows fell on all the tender places. Whackers face was a picture of ecstasycaning the boys always made him feel young and vital again. Young pups, take that, and that, and that, he rasped, in time with the licks of the cane, as he marshalled them towards the day yard. Julius fell in behind him and out of range of the cane. When Whacker OBrynn got going, every boy in the vicinity got a lick, the innocent as well as the guilty. Out into the day yard, the boys hopped and skipped, screeching and screaming. Get you gone, young pups. Into yer classes with ya, rasped Whacker. Saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth and his eyes glazed over in rapture. Crimper and his cohorts ran for their classrooms, leaving Julius hiding on Whackers blind side. It was no usethe old schoolmaster spotted him and lifted the cane. It sliced through the crisp morning air and
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cut into his backside. What are ya doing, skulking there like a sewer rat? Tell me that, now, ya young pup. Into class with ya afore I skin ya alive. A minute later Julius was sitting at his desk with his face screwed up, waiting for the re burning in his backside to subside. All around him, the boys were throwing balls of paper dipped in ink at one another and shouting at the tops of their voices until the schoolmaster, Mr Crowley, marched in and lashed the blackboard with his cane. Silence you curs, he said, with a voice like a rusty hatchet. Multiplication tables. Well, Ive survived this morning, but this afternoon is looking decidedly doubtful, Julius thought, as the boys around him took their seats and groaned in misery.

~
By lunchtime Julius had formulated a plan for surviving into adulthood and for keeping his eyes and ears intact as wellhe would pay another call on Jack Springheel, Esquire. As soon as the school bell sounded, he sprinted across the day yard, through the gate and made for home. He burst into the bookshop and crashed and collided through the customers until he reached the counter.
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Julius Caesar? What in heavens name are you doing home at this hour? Youve been expelled. I knew it, said Mr Higgins as he tried to serve two customers at once. No, no. Ive forgotten something, said Julius, sneaking a sheet of his grandfathers personalised notepaper from the stack under the counter. Ill explain it in a minute, he continued before disappearing into the back parlour. At the writing desk Julius laid out the sheet of paper. Augustus Windermere Higgins, Book Seller, Ironmonger Lane, it read in ne copperplate along the top. Julius dipped a pen in the ink bottle and after a moments thought he applied it to the page. Dear Mr Coyle It is with regret that I must inform you that my grandson, Julius Caesar Higgins, has been taken seriously ill. His physician recommends complete bed rest with no homework for one week at the very least. Please excuse Julius Caesar from lessons until Wednesday next. Your Humble Servant A. Higgins Julius perused his handy work. I could make a decent living as a forger if I put my mind to it, he thought, while blowing the ink dry. After folding the letter carefully and putting it in the inside pocket of his jacket, Julius
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sprinted up the stairs and into his room. He threw a spare shirt, some underwear, socks, a comb and a book on y-shing he had not yet nished into a carpetbag. When he came down, his grandfather was in the back parlour tapping his spectacles on the palm of his hand. What is all this, Julius Caesar? Running away to sea? he said, nodding at the bag in the boys hand. I forgot all about it, grandfather. I had to come home to pack. Theyre all getting ready to leave. Leave? Leave for where? What are you talking about? The history eld trip to Hadrians Wall. What? But thats in Scotland, said Mr Higgins, as if that was objection enough. I know, thats why well be gone for a week, A whole week? In Caledonia? Are you out of your senses? No, its all been arranged. Dont you remember the note I gave you? No, I dont and I dont remember paying for it either. Id have remembered that. Theres no charge, its been paid for by the Guild of Quality Butchers. Really? Yes, here Ill show you the note. I have it upstairs somewhere, said Julius, running back up the stairs. After riing through his room for a minute he ran
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down again and thrust a sheet of paper into his grandfathers hand. Ill see you in a week, then, he said, grabbing the carpetbag and lunging for the door. By the time he had made it through the throng of customers with his bag in tow his grandfather had read the note. Hold up, Julius Caesar, called out Mr Higgins from the shop doorway. Julius stopped wrestling with the carpetbag and turned back. What? This noteits about last years Christmas Pageant. Is it? said Julius looking confused. I must have given you the wrong one. Theres no time to nd it for you now. Ill show it to you when I come back. Oh, you will, will you? Bye then, said Julius as he scurried down the street. Young Caesar. What? The school is that way, said Mr Higgins, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. So it is, said Julius. He ran back and hurried past his grandfather with a convincing smile xed to his face. Mr Higgins tapped the spectacles on the palm of his hand as he watched his grandson disappear around the corner.
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Once around the corner, Julius dropped the bag, and the smile, and collapsed against a wall to catch his breath. It was not a good idea to get too close to the school, which was only three streets away. Crimper and his minions could be scouring the borough for him at this very moment. They could murder him, toss him in the Thames and be back in time for the afternoon lessons without anyone ever knowing. It was no use going back and conding his difculties with his grandfather. The last time he complained about being bullied, the old man had attempted to give him a boxing lesson. Give the fellow a good punch on the nose, Julius Caesar. That will sort him out, he had said, holding up his sts and ducking his bald head. Julius had not taken his advice. A good punch on the nose, sorted out bullies in stories. In real life, if you managed to land a punch on a bullys nose it only increased the severity of the beating you were going to get in the rst place. No, a week or so hiding out with Springheel and Clements was the best plan, extreme though it was, was the only way out of permanent death and disgurement. He picked up his bag and ran east along Gresham Street. He would keep running in the opposite direction from the school until the afternoon lessons began.

~
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An hour later, Julius sneaked into the day yard. He pushed the forged letter under the headmasters door and sprinted back out into Milk Street. Phase two of the plan was complete. Now for phase three. Tired and sweating from all his running and worrying, Julius turned the corner into Warwick Lane. He dodged through the shoppers, street vendors, pickpockets and beggars. With a pounding heart, he arrived at Clements pawnshop but lost his nerve and stopped at the door. His stomach was churning enough to make a pound of butter. He looked in the window at the display of pledged items. There were corsets, a trumpet, hats, cigar cases and even a shrunken head. He had no choice but to stay there until things calmed down or until he came up with another plan to see him through to adulthood. He wanted to be close to Jack Springheel as well, in the unlikely event that Crimper came searching of him, even though it meant keeping an eye out for the street-urchins, and Chinamen. He took a deep breath and walked into the shop. Clements sat behind the counter smoking a cigar. The pawnbroker lowered the newspaper he was reading and blew out a cloud of smoke that lingered around his head and shoulders like a fog on the Thames. To Juliuss surprise Clements eyes opened wide in welcome. Well, if it isnt our little bookseller friend. How are you, my boy?
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Very well, thank you, sir. Youve found it then? I knew you would, he said, as he leaned forward and eyed the carpetbag greedily. Found? Harrisons diary, of course. Before Julius could speak, the tip of a walking cane shot out from behind the curtain separating the shop from the back parlour. It swept across the doorway, lifting the curtain to reveal Jack Springheel. Our young friend returns, he said, as he stepped up to the counter. Juliuss heart jumped. Last nights events came back in vivid colour. What seemed at rst like a very simple and straightforward plan now seemed too ridiculous for words. What were you thinking, Higgins? He could just imagine the two of them laughing their heads off if he asked for their help. You have news of Harrisons diary? said Springheel, arranging the rufes on his cravatit was canary yellow with black polka dots. His eyes bored into Julius. Any words Julius ever knew left his head all at once. All he could do was stare dumbly at Springheel. Well? said Springheel. ErYeswe have it, said Julius. I see. How much? Ill give it to youfor free, said Julius. But, the thing isIm in a small spot of bother. I was
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wonderingI need some lodgings, just for a week or twountil things settle down. Bother? said Springheel. He turned to Clements. I sure Clements would be delighted to have you as our guest. Wouldnt you, Clements. Would I? said Clements. Yesyou would, said Springheel. Clements swallowed. Id be delighted. But hed have to do a few odd jobs around the place too. You wouldnt mind doing a few odd jobs, would you, Julius? said Springheel. No, not at all. Then I think we have an agreement, said Springheel, looking at the carpetbag. Hand it over. I didnt get a chance totoIll go back tonight and collect it.

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~
CH A PTER

Wednesday 5th July, 1837

2:48 AM

ulius lay on the rickety bed at his new lodgings, looking up through the skylight at the tiny stars. The carpetbag lay unopened against the damp wall. On the upturned box that served as a bedside table a candle burned lower and lower marking the slow passage of time. Julius waited, wishing that he could wait forever for what he had to do next. When the candle nally ickered and died, the room was clutched by darkness. It grew suddenly cold. Julius pulled his boots on and crept down the narrow stairway. In Clements kitchen he found the backdoor key on the hook where Clements had said it would be. Out into the back alley and through New Market Square, he walked.
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No one was about at this time of the morning, only a policeman doing his rounds. The full moon lit Juliuss way as he went home to get the diary. From the end of Ironmonger Lane the dark shape of his grandfathers shop sign stood out against the night sky. Julius was skinny enough to edge himself through the shop doorway without causing the bell to ring. He closed the door and listened. The mantle clock ticked but that was all. The shops interior was almost black; he had to feel his way to the back parlour and light a lamp, avoiding the creaky oorboards. The familiar room was full of shadows in the lamplight. They seemed to know he was up to no good. Julius slid open the writing desk drawers, searching for the diary. He had reasoned that his grandfather would assume that he had misplaced it. And anyway it was being used for a good causeto save the life of his one and only grandson. What better use to put it to? Where is it? Juliuss desperation grew more intense the more he searched. It had to be in the parlour or in the shop. If the old man was keeping it under his pillow Julius stood no chance of getting it. He ried through the papers and books on the writing desk. A pile of unanswered letters tumbled to the oor. Stop and think, he commanded himself to stem his growing panic. Where did you last see the diary? Thats it. He spun around and looked at the chair
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his grandfather had been sitting in then Professor Fox came to call. Julius carefully lifted the cushion. There it was. He almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it. It was so obvious that it was the last place he would have looked. He snatched the diary, hugged it to his chest and reached out to turn down the lamp. Julius Caesar? Julius spun around. Mr Higgins was standing in the doorway leading from the stairs. His nightcap was perched precariously on his head and his skinny legs poked out from beneath his nightshirt. His spectacle lenses reected the lamplight. Aha! I knew you were up to something. NoI- Whats that you have there? said the old man, pointing to the diary. Nothing. What are you up to? Tell me, now. Nothing. Its not nothing. Why are you sneaking about in the dead of night like alike a sneak-thief ? Ill explain it all later. I promise I will. But I have to go now, said Julius, edging toward the door. Mr Higgins was too quick for him though, and snatched the diary from his hand as he passed. Thinking of going into business for yourself, were you? No, its
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Dont lie to me. Thought you could get a few guineas for it, aye? Its not what you think. LookIm in a bit of trouble. I need the diary to I knew this would happen one day. I should call the peelers. Thats what I should do. No, listen, said Julius, clasping his hands around the diary. Its not what you think. Give it back, said the old man, as he tried to pull the book from Juliuss grasp. The old man was stronger than he looked, but Julius was becoming more and more desperate as they tussled for possession of the diary. Let go, let go, Julius cried putting his shoulder into his grandfathers chest, he wrenched the book away with such force that the old man fell back onto the bottom steps. Julius dropped the diary and went towards his grandfather. Im sorry. I didnt mean to Get back, cried the old man with anger and fear is his eyes. He raised an arm to protect himself. No, dont be Get out! Get out, I tell you! Julius backed off, fearing the cries would bring the neighbours running, Get out, damn you! I knew youd come to this one day. I just knew it, shouted Mr Higgins as he hit out at the air around him.
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Noyou dont understand. Its- I knew it. Theres bad blood in youbad blood. Get out, get out. But- Police, police, shouted Mr Higgins. Julius snatched up the diary and ran out into the night.

~
Julius was out of breath by the time he ran into the embankment wall. He slumped against the cold, damp stones. Sweat trickled down his forehead, his own heavy breathing and his heartbeat rose above the sounds of the lapping waves and the distant sounds of fog horns and the creaking and groaning of the ships further along the river. His hand clutched his jacket to feel the diary inside. He held it tight, but part of him wanted to throw it into the river and run away somewhere where no one would ever nd him again. What did grandfather mean? What bad blood? A line of mist oated above the surface of the water, like a ghostly white veil in the moonlight. Julius watched it drifting and shifting. It was as if the mist was entwined in a danceit moved with an elegance and beauty that seemed out of place in Cheapside. As his breathing slowed he rested his head on the damp wall and looked across to the far side he could see the
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citys ebony shadow in the white moons glow. Julius stared up at the vast dome of the night sky. There were only a few clouds above him; stars dotted the blackness. His grandfathers face, lingered in his mind. The expression of contempt and betrayal like spears stabbing at the deepest parts of him. I must go back, he thought. Just as he was about to turn away there was a sound. Julius held his breath and listened. It was a rhythmic splashing coming from down below, from the river. He peered through the mist and strained his ears. There it was again. An unmistakable rhythmic splashing, as if someone were wading through the water using their arms as paddles. It must be river men searching for corpses. Julius leaned over the wall to get a closer look. For a moment he thought he could see a movement below in the mist. Then a heart stopping sound came from that direction, the most pitiable sound he had ever heard. A cross between a babys cry and wounded dogs wail. He jumped back from the wall. Julius hesitated, then peeped back again, down and to the right. There it wasa swirling in the mist. A black shape emerged and cried out again as two arms reached out imploringly towards the damp, mud-encrusted embankment wall. Julius watched in horror as the creature groped along the stones. It found the rusty iron rungs of the ladder.
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Julius retreated, searching for somewhere to hide. The creature groaned with the effort of heaving its sodden body up the ladder. When the dark form clambered over the wall Julius turned and ran for the nearest doorwaythe shadows would protect him. He watched the creature clamber onto the footpath and look around in quick movements of fear and confusion. Julius guessed that it was some unfortunate, misshapen man. The man, if that was what it was, called out mournfully. Julius stepped back and, in doing so, collided with a bucket that ponged of rotting sh. Some rats were balancing on the edge, noses in and bottoms up. Suppressing a cry of disgust, he tried to step over it to regain his balance, but only made matters worse by catching his foot on the edge and falling over backwards. The rats screeched in fright and the bucket tipped over spilling a stew of sh guts, bones and river water on the cobbles. Julius rolled over to avoid being covered in the slimy mess. He let out a cry before he could stop himself. The creature stopped wailing and looked in Juliuss direction. Julius held his breath and prayed to be mistaken for a pile of debris. The rats scurried away. It as too late, the creature has seen him. With a squelching sound it stepped forward. Water dripped from its dark clothes like water from a dying fountain. Get back! yelled Julius.
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Aaaarch graach jahaar, said the creature, holding his arms out. Get back, I said, yelled Julius again, trying to scramble to his feet, but his boots were too covered in sh slime to get a purchase. By now the creature was near enough for Julius to see him more clearly. He wore a dark tail coat with tails nearly to his ankles, The sleeves were too short for his long thin arms. His hands too were long and thin, the skin as grey as a cadavers. His shoulders were hunched and the coat collar was high around his cheeks. His oily black hair stuck to his forehead. Julius backed up until he hit the wall and pushed himself to his feet. He looked to his left and right. How far could he run before he slipped and broke his knee caps? The creature came closer, stretching out a hand toward him, close enough for Julius to see his face. His eyes were large and staring, black pupils surrounded by red. The nose a sliver of gristle with nostrils. River water continued to drip from its tip. Grey-black lips opened to show two rows of pointed teeth. Aaaarch graach jahaar, said the creature again as he came within three paces of touching Juliuss face. Julius pressed himself back against the wall. What do you want? He is asking you to tell him where he is, said a familiar voice.
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Julius and the creature both looked around. There stood Professor Fox, his light grey frockcoat and top hat illuminated by the moonlight. He tipped his hat while idly swinging his cane. The creature was stunned into silence. Julius remained as still as the stone wall behind him. The professor replaced his hat, patted it rmly on his head, then took his pocketwatch out and unclipped it from the chain. Do not be afraid, young Master Higgins. Our distraught friend here means you no harm. Well soon have him back home where he belongs. The professor smiled at the creature staring transxed at him. Aaaarch graach jahaar, said the creature again but more calmly this time. Drachk da chraack, replied the professor, in an accent similar to the creatures. The creature stepped toward the professor, who held out the pocketwatch and spun it in the air with his ngertips like a childs top. The watch remained spinning in mid-air when the professor removed his hand. Its ticking began to increase in volume. Then the metronomic rhythm gave way to a polyrhythm, which grew in complexity like a regiment of military drummers each playing a different march. The professor then reached out and tapped the side of the spinning watch with the tip of his nger. Sharp rays of blue light shot out in all directions. The light was
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so bright that it almost turned the night into day. The three of them were enclosed in the dome of light; it felt warm on Juliuss skin. The creature shaded his eyes. Edreechk edk haach, it said. Ka chaar, ka chaar, replied the professor. I am telling our friend to be calm, he said, in answer to Juliuss puzzled stare. The professor beckoned for the creature to come towards him. Through the blue light Julius thought he saw a ghost-like image of another street. He blinked hard and looked again to check if it was merely a trick of the light and found that if he held his gaze in one spot the image became clearer. It was a street: there were cobblestones and houses on either side, even faint images of other creatures moving too and fro. The creature stared through the light too, his grey lips parted in a smile. Its face was bathed in the blue light, his red eyes gazing longingly down the spectral street. Ajacch dja, he said as he pointed ahead of him. Then, to Juliuss amazement, the creature itself began to fade into the blue light, until it too was a part of the spectral street. Wow! he said. Wow, indeed, said the professor, approaching the spinning watch and tapping it with his nger. Instantly, the light vanished and darkness enveloped them once more. The polyrhythm began to simplify and united until the pocketwatch was ticking normally again. He
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clipped it back to his watch chain and slipped it into his pocket. What in the blue blazes was that? said Julius.

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~
CH A PTER

Wednesday 5th July, 1837

3:58 AM

hat, young man, was what our Tibetan friend would call a hungry ghost. Although they would not describe themselves as such, said the professor. Juliuss mouth moved but no words came out. Are you all right, Julius? Quite a shock for a bookish young chap like you, no doubt. Julius stepped back. Im ne. Thank you, Im ne, he said, clutching Harrisons diary beneath his jacket. Tell me, did your grandfather manage to locate that diary by any chance? Diary? Yes, you know. Harrison, the watchmaker? I was in search of his diary, if you recall.
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Oh, yes. Nohe hasnt found it yet. Oh, what a pity. Yes. Odd time of night to be abroad, dont you think? Youre not delivering books at this hour are you? said the professor, looking up at the moon. What are you doing here? Thats what I want to know, thought Julius. No, just out for a stroll, thats all couldnt sleep. I see. Yesanyway thanks for your help with the thecreature. Ill be off now, said Julius. Hold up, Julius, called out the professor as Julius turned and hurried away. I must get home, Julius called back over his shoulder before colliding with a tall, broad-shouldered man. The impact took the breath from Julius but the man appeared to be no more affected than if a buttery had rammed him. Steady on there, young fella, said the man, in an Irish accent. Julius looked up at the beard-stubbled chin in the shadow of the mans hat. The moonlight caught the distinctive curve of a broken nose. Terribly sorry, sir, said Julius, dodging around him and sprinting towards the nearest side street. Once safely in the shadows he stopped and looked back. The professor and the tall man were standing
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together looking in his direction. Theyre not following, Higgins, youve given them the slip. He ran towards Cannon Street, where he looked up to the dome of St Pauls Cathedral. Out of breath again, Julius stopped and looked behind him before taking out the diary. He tapped its spine against his ngers as he tried to decide what to do. He had Crimper McCready and his own grandfather for enemies now. The professor was an exceedingly odd sh with a lot to hide and that Irish bruiser he had with him looked capable of anything, especially breaking tender young bones. Julius looked at the diary, lifting it a little to let the moon shine weakly on it. What is so special about you, my friend? he thought. His ngers icked through the pages. There were crudely drawn diagrams of watch mechanisms and page after page of notes in neat tiny writing. Julius walked slowly back to Warwick Lane. By the time he got there the sun was coming up. He hammered on the shop door as the dawn chill descended on the street. After a few minutes Clements appeared at the door, tying up his nightgown and scowling. Why cant you use the back door? Thats what the keys for, you scoundrel, said Clements. Julius barged through the door and into the shop. He wanted to be alone in his room to lie down and lose himself in sleep. Clements followed him to the counter with a
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candle in his hand. Well? Did you get it? Julius took the diary from under his jacket and threw it on the counter. Clements gasped and lunged for it as if it was about to disappear in a puff of smoke. He then hesitated and sniffed the air. Whats that smell. Its rotten sh, said Julius. Rotten sh? Julius stooped and pulled off his stinking boots. Yes. He ung the boots behind the counter with a violence that made Clements jump and stumbled through the curtain into the kitchen. With courage drawn from sheer exhaustion, misery and anger Julius called back. Dont disturb me, Ill be sleeping all day. Very well, very well, said Clements. Off you go then. While Julius used his last ounce of strength to haul himself up the narrow steps he could hear Clements running out of the shop, bounding up Jack Springheels staircase and banging on his door. Julius pushed his door open and fell onto the bed, praying for sleep but dreading waking up again.

~
The hours came and went in Juliuss attic room. A faint grey shaft of daylight hung from the skylight
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and faded to nothing as evening approached. Julius twisted and turned, never really knowing if he was awake or asleep. His mind was full of nightmarish images. Hungry ghosts prowling through his grandfathers shop; Jack Springheel and Clements in devilish conference over the kitchen table; large men with broken noses battling in dark dank alleyways. He could hear the sounds of bones snapping and teeth breaking in time with the ticking of a clock. And all the time his grandfathers accusing words bad blood, bad blood, jabbing at him like punches until his head ached. He woke with a start. Someone was knocking on his door. Higgins, Higgins, wake up. Its time for supper, called out Clements before lumbering down the stairs without waiting for a reply. Julius was covered in sweat and tangled up in his musty bed sheets. The candle in his room had burned itself out the night before so he tidied himself up as best he could in the steely grey evening light. He stood, for what seemed like a very long time, looking down the stairs wondering if his life would be any better at the bottom. In the kitchen Springheel and Clements were sitting at the rickety table which was strewn with plates and cutlery. Springheels back was to the stairs and he did not turn to greet his lodger when Julius entered. Clements however seemed pleased to see him.
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Sit there, said the pawnbroker as he pointed a fat nger at the only remaining chair at the table. Suppers ready. You hungry, lad? Yes, replied Julius, realising how hungry he really was. He sat down sheepishly, looked at his empty plate and salivated. Springheels eyes remained xed on the replace. He did not appear to be as happy as Clements was. Clements bustled and fussed around the small range at the replace. He opened the range door with the aid of a rag and plucked out a baked potato. It was too hot for him to hold even with the rag so he had to toss it from hand to hand as he returned to the table and then he threw it onto Springheels plate. He repeated the process for himself and Julius, and then took a large frying pan from the hot plate and scooped three greasy kippers out onto their plates. Clements opped into his chair and smacked his lips as he reached for the bread and butter. Kippers again? said Springheel. Then he sniffed. Actually, this whole place smells of sh. Julius dug in. Kippers were ne by him. After few moments Springheel repeated himself. I said, this place pongs of sh. I know, I heard you. Its Higginss shoes. Dont worry Ive cleaned the worst of it off, replied Clements with mouthful of potato and butter. And kippers is all I can afford at the moment. If you could start to
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make some money we might be able to afford some boiled beef once in a while. Springheel cast a withering glance in Juliuss direction and then looked about the room, wrinkling his nose. It positively reeks of the sea in here. And look at the mess. Do you ever do any tidying up, Clements? I mean youre in here all day. Surely you could swing a broom from time to time? Im busy in the shop all day trying to earn enough money to buy kippers and to pay for those damned watchmaking books of yours. Complain, complain, complain. Thats all I hear from you these days, Clements. Well, I wouldnt have to complain if you actually did something with those watchmaking books, would I? said Clements, pieces of kipper spraying from his mouth. In what seemed like a practised motion Springheel covered his plate with his hands and glared at his companion. Clements shrank back into this seat and chewed his food, brooding. With an air of inevitability Springheel picked up his knife and fork and poked his potato. Well, for your information, my corpulent companion, I have been very busy today reading that diary, with a magnifying glass, I might add. And I can conrm that our pocketwatch is indeed the very device Harrison describes in the diary, he said.
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I knew it. So what does it say? You wouldnt understand if I told you, said Springheel, as he winked to Julius. Clements saw the wink and shoved a forkful of potato into his mouth. You said wed be as rich as kings once you had the diary. Well, youve got it now so Perhaps you could stop eating while you are taking, Clements. We have discussed this before. There was silence for a time, except for the sounds of eating. Then Springheel dabbed the corners of his mouth with his handkerchief and took his pocketwatch from his waistcoat. Would you care for a demonstration, Clements? Would that put your mind at rest? Clements ignored him, not that Springheel noticed. He held the watch over the supper table by his ngertips and spun it around, much like Julius had seen the professor do. Julius stopped chewing. When Springheel removed his hand, the watch remained spinning and bobbing in the air. Juliuss eyes widened and his kipper-lled mouth fell open. Everyones got one of these watches. Clements was too busy eating to notice until Springheel coughed to attract his attention. He glanced up and saw the watch bobbing in the air an arms length away. He cried out in joy, and halfchewed potato sprayed across the table.
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Youve done it, Springheel. Youve done it. I knew you would. We will be as rich as kings. Richer, said Springheel. Yes, richer, said Clements, his face shining like polished brass. On the other side of the curtain the shop bell tinkled. Clements, shop, snapped Springheel. Higgins, you see to it, said Clements, not taking his eyes from the watch. Reluctantly Julius rose from the table and walked towards the shop. What do I do? he asked as he stopped in front of the curtain. You work in a bookshop dont you, Julius? said Springheel, as he snatched the watch from the air. It works in the same manner only the money goes in the opposite direction. Julius sighed and went into the shop. It was cold and dimly lit by a single candle on the counter. The rst thing he noticed was the faint smell of rotting sh mingled with boot polish. Then just inside the door, the silhouette of a tall, broad-shouldered gure wearing a top hat. He appeared to be examining an old squeeze box. Julius swallowed hard and pulled his jacket straight. Oh cripes, the Irish bruiser has found me. Then he noticed the boots he had thrown behind the counter. They were standing neatly, side-by-side on the oor in front of the safe. Clements had done an
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excellent job. The oorboards creaked as the stranger stepped forward into the candle light. Julius jumped and looked around for anything that could be used as a weapon. The squeeze box let out a half-hearted death cry when the man forced the ends together with his huge hands. Ill have it, he said. Julius stared at the man, blood draining from his face. He knows about the diary, Higgins. Hell slit your throat for it and not turn a hair. Okay, said Julius. Erwould you like it wrapped? Oh, I wouldnt worry about that. Ill play it as I go. Julius paused while he tried to gure out what to say next. The man sniffed the air. Smells like a sh shop in here. I know. Hes playing with you, Higgins. Hell snap you in two in the next second. Oh, before I forget. I have a bit of business to do as well, said the man, pulling a gold watch and chain from an inside coat pocket. He placed it on the counter. Even to Juliuss untutored eye the watch and chain were clearly of great value. Um, a nice timepiece. How much did you want for it? Well done, Higgins. Well, thats for you to say, now isnt it, young fella.
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Yes, wellif youll excuse me for a moment, sir. Ill have to confer with my associate, said Julius. He picked up the watch as quick as he could so the man would not notice his trembling hand. Its weight told him it was solid gold. Take your time, young fella. Ive all the time in the world, so I have, said the man as he touched the rim of his hat and grinned. Julius backed through the curtain and held the watch by the chain in front of Clements face as he chewed on a st-sized wad of bread and butter. A mournful squeeze box melody wafted through the curtain. How much for this? Julius asked. Clements snatched it and looked closely at the marking. Solid gold, not been churched. He listened to the ticking. Goes like clockwork. Offer him ten shillings, twelve if he wants to haggle. Okay, said Julius. He retuned to the shop and swallowed hard once again. Twelve shillings, sir. The man laughed and dropped the squeeze box on the counter. Clements set the price, did he? Julius nodded and placed the watch back on the counter. The man took in a deep breath and bellowed. Come out here and talk to me face-to-face, Clements. The shop shook under the force of his voice.
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Juliuss knees went weak. In a moment Clements sweaty face appeared from behind the curtain. Why, Mr Flynn, I didnt know it was you. I do humbly beg your pardon, he said, wringing his hands as if he was washing them in mid air. Well, now that you know who youre dealing with, lets hear a proper price. Certainly, Mr Flynn, certainly, said Clements, picking up the watch and making a show of carefully examining it . And its not been pinched, so Ill thank you for the correct going rate, Mr Clements. Certainly, Mr Flynn, certainly. I never meant to presume thaterit was in any wayum, said Clements fumbling with the watch. What would you say to ten pounds, Mr Flynn? Add another two and youve got yourself a deal, Mr Clements. Two did you say. Well, umlet me thinkUm very well, two it is, Mr Flynn. You drive a hard bargain, Mr Clements, but its always a pleasure doing business with you, said the man. Then he spat on his palm and held it out to the pawnbroker, who shook it without any visible sign of discomfort. Clements wiped his hand on his trousers and crouched down under the counter. He counted out two ve pound notes and two sovereigns from the
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safe. The mans eyes met Juliuss and he winked. Julius pretended not to notice. He toying with you, Higgins. Like a bloody big cat with a scrawny mouse. Clements straightened up and counted out the money. Ill leave the boy to ll out the paperwork if you dont mind, Mr Flynn. My dinners getting cold. Not at all, Mr Clements, you get yourself inside. Kippers is it? Me and the boy will sort things out, said the man. Higgins, help Mr Flynn to ll out the loan agreement. Fifteen pounds to reclaim the item, and all rights will forfeit in three months from this date. Theres the form, said Clements, before disappearing into the kitchen.

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~
CH A PTER

Wednesday 5th July, 1837

7:32 PM

ulius swallowed hard again. Think rst, speak second, Higgins. Well, sir, please sign here, he said, as he reached for the quill standing in the inkwell. Youll be glad to know that your grandfather is not in too bad a shapeall things considered, said the man under his breath as he accepted the quill. What? Julius looked at the curtain behind him to make sure Clements was gone. Theyve taken him hostage, thats it. Theyll stop at nothing to get the diary. The professor visited Mr Higgins this morning, and bought a very expensive volume from the old wheeler-dealer, just to cheer him up. He was
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very shaken though, and upset, the professor said. Apparently his grandson and he had very serious words the other night. So serious, in fact, that the grandson ran off into the night and the grandfather swears hell never let his grandson darken his door again. A disagreement over an item of stock, apparently. Julius gasped. Julius, whispered, the man, looking into his eyes. Go home, make it up with your grandfather. Clements is the last person you should be getting mixed up with. Howhow did you know about my grandfather? Shut up, Higgins. You wrote a note to the professor asking us to look in on him for you. You were worried about him. You asked us to meet you at the river last night. No I didnt. Youre lying. You havent written the note yet, young fella. Thats why you dont remember, said the man. What The man held out the two bank notes and the sovereigns. Here, take these. The professor wanted you to be set. Clements wont be paying you a bean, Im sure. But, I dont understand, whispered Julius, as he pocketed the money. Go home and make it up with the old wheeler dealer. Whatever happened between you can be
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sorted out. Julius looked down at the squeeze box. I cant. Not without the diary. I see, said the man. Its like that is it? The man signed his name, tipped his hat and turned to leave. Then he stopped. A thought seemed to occur to him. Meet the professor and me at midnight, at the steps of St Pauls. he said, and then walked out of the shop, leaving the squeeze box on the counter. Julius looked down at the elegant signature. Daniel Patrick Flynn, it read. Julius sniffed his boots and put them on. The smell was not too bad. In a few days the sh would fade away completely. He patted the money in his pocket. Youll have to get the diary back before you go home, Higgins. How are you going to do that? Back in the kitchen, Clements was examining the Mr Flynns watch while Springheel was examining Harrisons. Ha, ha, Ill take this to a jeweller I know tomorrow and get twenty ve pounds for it, said Clements, as Julius sat down. Who was that then? That, Higgins, was Daniel Flynn, better known as The Duke. Hes the champion bare-knuckle boxer of all London, said Clements. Oh.
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Oh, indeed, Higgins, said Clements. You dont want to get on the wrong side of the likes of him. Hes king of The Fancy, he is. A more treacherous, violent brute youll not nd. Steer well clear of him, Higgins. During this conversation Springheel had been examining his watch, prodding and poking at it as if he were trying to nd a hidden switch. Clements leaned in to get a closer look, but Springheel pulled it away. What are you looking for, Springheel? Harrisons diary, my corpulent companion, is a confused jumble of remembrances, not an instruction book, as I had hoped. The man does not write a single thing in clear Kings English. It is a mish-mash of technical terms and specicationsthis cog must be such-and-such a density and have such-and-such a resistance to temperatures and such-and-such a viscosity ratio when close to light speed and Did you say light speed, Dont interrupt me when I am in full ow, Clements, theres a good fellow. Where was I? Light speed, said Clements. Oh, yes. Its like trying to solve a puzzle with only half the clues. Harrison was concerned with how to produce the device, not how it actually works. But I can tell you one thing, it was not a chronometer he was buildingit was a time-machine, Im sure of it. I knew it, exclaimed Clements.
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Did he say time-machine, Higgins? This Professor Fox he mentions thoughIf the cove were alive now Id like ask him a few questions about this Guild of his. Ill wager ten pounds its the same one Lord Byron spoke of. Julius could feel the sovereigns snug in his pocket. What have you gotten yourself into, Higgins? These people are insane. You could escape to Kent. Buy a cottage. Write a letter to grandfather to explain everything. Invite him down for a visit. Get everything back to normal. While Julius was musing on possible futures for himself, Springheel spun the watch once more. It bobbed in the air over the supper table. It wont hurt to get in Springheels good books, Higgins. Get him to trust youget him to let you see the diary again, he thought. He reached out to the spinning watch and tapped its side with his ngertip. It did not burst into light as he had hoped but it did begin to glow faintly. Clements dropped the gold watch into the remains of his kipper. How did you do that? It justIt felt like the right thing to do, said Julius, doing his best to avoid Springheels enquiring stare. You are a source of constant surprises, Julius, said Springheel eventually as he scratched his chin and then reached out and tapped the side of the watch. The glow faded. He smiled. Were making progress.
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Well be as rich as kings, said Clements, cleaning the kipper grease off the gold watch. Richer. Yes, richer. But now to work. We have our other little project to complete tonight, Clements. Julius, you may have the evening off, said Springheel as he pocketed the watch and swept out of the room in a swirl of excitement. Wash the dishes rst though, said Clements, as he rose from his seat and hurried after Springheel. Oh, Mr Clements, said Julius. Clements stopped at the curtain. Yes. Thank you for cleaning my boots. Oh, thats all right. Cant abide the smell of rotting sh. Clements turned to go again. Mr Clementscould I have a look at the diary some time? What for? Im interested. Clements let the curtain fall and looked at Julius. Its ours now, fair and squarethe diary in exchange for a weeks lodgings and a few odd jobs, he said. I know, its just that- You can start by wash the dishes, like a good lad, said Clements, then walked out into the shop. Alone in the kitchen, Julius could hear them both
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hurrying up the side stairs, voices raised in excited discussion. He patted the pocket containing the money. How much do cottages in Kent cost? he wondered, picturing a bucolic life of calm, amid fruit trees, with rustic types dofng their hats to him as he strolled down a country lane. The image faded and was replaced by the kipper skeletons on the butter smeared plates. Julius walked into the dark shop and rattled the door to make sure Clements had locked it. Get yourself off on the mail coach at dawn, Higgins. He eyed the safe under the counter and rattled that door too. It was locked, so he searched for any hidden keys but found none. He knew where is grandfather hid the key to the bookshop safe and regularly supplemented his allowance with the odd sixpence when the old man was at the coffee house. With the washing-up done, Julius searched the tea caddies and tins in the larder and on the mantle no cash or safe keys anywhere. With nowhere else to go, he trudged up the stairs, fell backwards onto the bed and looked up through the skylight. As he had been sleeping for most of the day he did not feel very drowsy, but he propped his pillow against the wall and leaned back to rest. It had been a very full few days. What are you going to do now, Higgins? What? What? What?

~
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Julius woke with a start. He looked around. His hand clutched the pocket containing the twelve pounds it was still there. Julius let out a sigh of relief, but then he realised what had woken him. The room was vibrating. Through the walls he could hear a deep hum with an even deeper thud as regular as the ticking of a clock. Cautiously, he pressed his ear to the damp wall adjoining Springheels quarters. It felt unnaturally warm. Then, a mournful cry made him recoil and stare at its grey surface. He had heard that sound before. Julius looked around for his carpetbag. Time to scarper, Higgins. Just as he was about to bolt, a howl rang out. He froze in terror. A creature stepped through the wall into his room. Julius leapt onto the bed and pressed himself against the wall. The creature was similar to the one he had seen at the Thames. Same red eyes, cadaverous pallor and sharp teeth. This one had spiky black hair, though, and was possibly a little shorter. Julius could make out the silver buttons on the creatures tail coat and the tip of a handkerchief poking out from his breast pocket. The creature was looking around in fear, just like the other creature had, but this time Julius realised that he could see through it. The creature was a ghost-like image, seemingly made of mist. The creature saw Julius. Aaaarch graach jahaar? it said.
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Even though the sound more closely resembled the cry of an animal than human speech, Julius recognised the words. The apparition was asking where he was. Julius did not know who was the more frightened. He tried to recall the words that the professor had uttered to calm the creature at the Thames. Ka cha, ka cha, Julius called out, trying to imitate the creatures accent. Be calm, be calm. The creature backed away towards the open door and stooped forward to peer down the dark stairs. With one last imploring look at Julius, it turned and ed down the stairs, letting out a terried cry as it went. The throbbing noise continued on the other side of the wall and Julius could hear Springheel and Clements arguing, though he could not distinguish their words. What have you got yourself into, Higgins? He squinted into the darkness of the staircaseno one there. He snatched the carpetbag from the bed and patted the money in his pocket. Ill walk to Kent. Better still, Ill run, Julius thought as he edged down the stairs. There was no sign of the creature in the dark kitchen. Julius took one last look around for anything valuable to put in his carpetbag and then unlocked the back door and slid out into the night. Seconds later he was sprinting through New Market Square. In his eagerness to get away he was almost in the middle of the empty square before he realised that
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something was amiss in Cheapside. He dropped the bag and looked around. For a start it was unseasonably warm, even for a summers night; secondly the clouds covering the sky were red and orange and a lot lower that usual. They were like swirling molten coals, as if a mighty storm were raging, but it was silentthere was no thunder. The buildings around the square were lit up by the silent light display overhead. Julius could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Its the Apocalypse, Higgins. The end of the world. To the south Julius could see the dome of St Pauls above the rooftops. What had Mr Flynn said about meeting the professor at the steps of St Pauls? Midnight wasnt it? Julius had no idea what time it was as he looked around the square counting his options. Well, Higgins, its back to Jack Springheel and his apparitions; back to grandfather without the diary; off to Kent; or see what the professor and Mr Flynn have to say. The only appealing option was Kent, but Julius knew, in his heart of hearts, it was not a realistic one. Something very frightening was happening in London and Julius wanted to be with someone he could trust. The professor gave you twelve pounds, Higgins. Thats something in his favour. At least thats what Mr Flynn said When he got to the cathedral the silent storm was still raging over Cheapside. In the amber light Julius could see Professor Fox standing at the cathedral
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steps looking up at the clouds. Mr Flynn was nearby looking around as if searching for someone. Julius approached them slowly. Keep your mouth shut, Higgins. Let them do the talking. Ah, youve decided to join us, young fella, said Mr Flynn. The professor turned his attention from the clouds and his worried frown became a welcoming smile. Hes smiling, Higgins, thats good. On your way home again, Julius? said the professor, nodding towards the carpetbag in Juliuss hand. Yes. Youre doing the right thing, young fella, said Mr Flynn. Now, about that diary?

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~
CH A PTER

Thursday 6th July, 1837

2:11 AM

louds swirled above the cathedrals spires, ashing in all shades of amber. Whats happening? he said. Well done, Higgins. Get them distracted. Im not entirely sure, Julius, but I could hazard a guess, said the professor. There is a dual vibration anomaly occurring, centralised in this very borough. A what? Tell me, Julius, why did you leave you grandfather last night? He was very upset when I spoke with him earlier. What have you been up to? Julius clenched his jaw tight but his eyes blinked guiltily. The professor and Mr Flynn waited for his answer. Think very carefully, Higgins? Why do you need to know, sir?
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I think you may have fallen in with the wrong sort, Julius. You could be in great danger. You have an association with a man, I will not say gentleman, by the name of Jack Springheel, have you not? He may appear to be a friend and ally but I can assure you that he is anything but. Julius swallowed hard. Say nothing, Higgins. I have reason to believe this Jack Springheel, as he calls himself now, is a murderer. A murderer? Remember what you said about saying nothing, Higgins? Yes, a endish killer, without scruples or compassion. I believe he took the life of the poet, Percy Shelley. Killed him for his pocketwatch. Did you say a pocketwatch? I did. Springheel was only a boy then, back in the year 1822. He called himself Charles Vivian and was working as a boat boy on Shelleys schooner, the Ariel, when it sank in a storm off the Italian coast. I have been on his trail, in one way or another, ever since. Recently I heard that a mysterious man was trawling the London bookshops in search of John Harrisons diary. Only a handful of people know of the signicance of that diary and the H3 chronometer prototype. I knew that man had to be Charles Vivian. Julius blinked. Mr Flynn stepped closer to Julius. Springheel is in cahoots with Clements, isnt he? This Clements fellow
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pays all his bills. Does he? Yes. Is he also lodging with Clements? ErI dont think so. The professor raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Oh, cripes, this is all too much. Tell them, Higgins. Yes, hes staying in rooms around the side of the shop. II delivered books there. What sort of books? Just watchmaking books, thats all. Almost to Juliuss relief the agstones beneath his feet began to quake. He looked around, expecting a Chinaman to appear. Above him the silent light display was intensifying. This is Springheels doing, Ill wager, said Mr Flynn. Hes meddling with the parallel realms, professor. Correct, Danny, said the professor, and he took his own pocketwatch out. Julius, shed some light on this. What Springheel is up to? I dont know, honestly. He only said he had a little project to complete tonight. Thats all I know, honestly. Butbut there was something. Something? said Mr Flynn, stepping closer again. Yesin my roomthere were vibrations and andone of those creatures came through the wall. It looked terried. I tried to tell it to be calm but I dont think it understood. it disappeared down the
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stairs. Thats when I decided to bolt. Professor, if Springheels interfering with the parallel vibration elds, then said Mr Flynn. The professor spun the pocketwatch and it bobbed in the air. Precisely Danny, Springheel is meddling with forces of which he has no understanding. He could be putting the whole of London in peril, perhaps the world. We need to nd out more. Stick close to me, gentlemen, he said, tapping the side of the watch. A blue light shone out in all directions, forming a dome around them. The professor tapped the watch once again and Julius gasped as the watch face split into concentric circles and opened out a few inches into a conical shape. He moved closer and peered at it through the blue light. This light will protect us when we enter the other vibration eld, said the professor. We? thought Julius. And what vibration eld? The tiny mechanism of the watch had opened up and he could see the complex matrix of ascending plates holding the wheels and pinions which whirled around at incredible speeds. What are vibration elds professor? asked Julius as he gazed into the watch. There are countless worlds or realms, Julius. Normally they coexisttogether but separate, if you see what I mean. Vibrating on different frequencies, as it
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were, but in the same place in space and time. But thats imposs Springheel has somehow learned of the frequency of the Realm of the Hungry Ghosts and is transmitting to it from our realm and forming a vortex. I think you might have to explain what a vortex is to the boy, hes looking confused, said Mr Flynn. Very well. UmIts like boring a hole in the side of a boat. If you keep drilling you break through the hull and the water cascades in. The hole is the vortex. The water is one realm and the interior of the boat the other. Springheel is blithely drilling away, completely ignorant of what he is about to unleash on London. He must be stopped, if it is not already too late. We have to nd the hole in the hull, as it were, and then we can set about plugging it. Follow me and stay close. But said Julius. Professor Fox tapped the watch once more. It moved forward, hovering above his outstretched palm, as the dome of blue light continued to shine all around it. The professor followed the hovering watch across the cathedral forecourt with Mr Flynn close behind. Julius stayed where he was until they were quite a few yards ahead. Then he picked up his carpetbag and began to slowly back away as if from a rabid dog. Just run all the way to Kent, Higgins.
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The professor stopped and turned around. You are welcome to join us if you wish, Julius, he said. Indeed you are, said Mr Flynn. Erno thank you. I think Ill justIll Maybe its best if you go home, Julius, said Mr Flynn. Well pop in tomorrow and tell you how it went. If were all still here, that is. Mr Flynn and the professor turned and began to walk away under the dome of blue light. Julius watched then go. Cripes, Higgins. Make a decision. The vortex thing would be at the shop wouldnt it? Thats where Springheel lives after all, said Julius, running toward them. Unfortunately, it is not as simple as that, Julius. No, the vortex is somewhere in this direction, said the professor pointing to the southeast with his cane to where the swirling amber clouds were at their most intense. Springheel must have some kind of frequency projector pointing in that direction. So that is where we must go rst to see if the hole can be plugged. Our conversation will have to wait until we have sorted out this particular difculty. Suits me, thought Julius. As they walked, Julius could see faint images emerging through the blue lightbuildings superimposed on the London buildings. He concentrated on them, they and became gradually more solid as
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Julius, the professor and Mr Flynn progressed towards the wide thoroughfare of Cannon Street. The buildings were similar in style to the London ones but appeared to be in bad repair and some were leaning at odd angles. Extra attics were added to many of the rooves, making a confused and crowded jumble. The London street was fading into the background and the hungry ghost street was now the more real of the two. Julius could discern vague, spectre-like movements. As he concentrated on them, he could see that they were creatures similar to the ones he had seen at the Thames and in his room. They were rushing along the street and gazing up at the sky as if they expected it to fall on their heads. Can they see us, professor? said Julius, his words sounding far away to his ears. Not if we keep moving, Julius. We are still vibrating in our own frequency, thanks to my timepiece and the blue light, although we are in their realm now. If we stopped and stood still for long enough though, they would see us as ghostly forms. Julius looked up into the hungry ghost sky. Its clouds were even more violently molten and swirling than the London clouds. They must think its the end of the world, or something. No doubt they do, Julius. Now, we must make for the rivers bank, said the professor. We will be able to get our bearings from there.
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They turned into a side street and a deep roaring sound grew rapidly overhead. The sound rattled Juliuss bone. He almost lost his balance and put out a hand to steady himself against the wall. Mr Flynn was shouting something to him as he clasped his hands over his ears and hung on to the rim of his hat at the same time. Julius could not hear what he said but he shielded his ears too, for all the good it did. It was as if he was being consumed by the sound. He could hardly stand up straight, let alone think. Julius looked up. A vast shape like a ying whale edged slowly across the sky, casting the street into shadow. There were four propellers as big as waterwheels attached to a cradle slung under the craft. They whistled up a gale in their wake which swirled through the narrow street, slamming doors and windows and pulling a line of white shirts from a clothes line. The professors hat lifted off his head, slammed against the wall and somersaulted along the greasy cobblestones as if it was running away. Julius was knocked to the ground by the force of the wind and his jacket was almost pulled off his shoulders. When the huge craft was gone and its drone was fading, Julius got to his feet and examined the dark stain from the cobblestones on the seat of his trousers. Grandfather will have something to say about the state of this, he thought as he tried unsuccessfully to brush it offthen he remembered he was not going home
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and stopped trying to get them clean. The professor had retrieved his hat and was likewise trying to brush the greasy soot off the ne grey silk. Totally ruined, he tutted to himself and then popped it on his head. What in blue-blazes was that, said Julius, trotting to catch up with Mr Flynn and the professor who were already marching away. They passed a fat matron running back and forth trying to rescue her shirts from window sills and gutters while at the same time shouting and gesticulating with her st at the now-empty sky. That, Julius, was a zettmalin. A VC3-62 series, if I am not mistaken said the professor. Invented by, and named after, Count Grimyll Von Zettmalin, one of the nest inventors of the last century. When they arrived at the rivers bank Julius could see the whole molten sky again. He stopped for a moment to take it all in, the silent ashing stormclouds, the ying machine drifting across the river like a whale swimming without a sea. Enormous steel ships with huge wheels on each side were tied up along the far bank. Colourful insignias that seemed to depict sea monsters were painted on their sides and upper decks. Flags as big a giants bed sheet uttered madly from ag poles at the afts and sterns. As you can see, Julius, the hungry ghosts are far more advanced than we are in their command of
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machines, said the professor, as the strode along the embankment toward an iron bridge that had massive spikes along its span. Lets take a closer look. Looks like theyre preparing for war, professor, said Mr Flynn, as some hungry ghosts wheeled a contraption past them. They were all dressed in the same bright red military jackets and peaked caps. One of the hungry ghosts was yelling at the others and waving his arms around. The contraption resembled a cannon, although there were many levers and wires protruding from it and a large brass circle with crosshairs was sticking out from the barrel. The trio turned right onto the bridge where more hungry ghosts in the same military coats were standing in line. Why do the Tibetans call them hungry ghosts, professor? It describes their natures, I suppose. The inhabitants of this ill-favoured world are always hungry for something, anythingwhether it be wealth, power, love, respectit matters not. The thing is that their desires can never be satised. They live tormented by unfullled longing for more and more of what they cant have. They become like ghosts, tortured souls who can never simply enjoy each pleasant moment because their hearts are set on the next imagined moment. They dont call themselves hungry ghosts of course. They call themselves Graacaachs. Grackacks? said Julius, attempting to imitate the
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professors pronunciation. Close enough, my boy. What does that mean, then? I suppose the closest word in the Kings English would be human. Their conversation was brought to a halt by a series of deafeningly sharp blasts, like thunderclaps, coming from across the river. A ock of black birds ew from their perches on the bridge spikes, forming a seething black cloud. Julius and his companions looked down river where a long cannon-like machine was positioned in the fore section of one of the steel ships. It was pointing to the sky and pelting out sparks from the muzzle with each blast. Grackacks on the ship were dressed in white uniforms and held their hands over their ears as the cannon pounded away. There, do you see? Theyre ring into the vortex, not that it will do them any good, shouted the professor above the din. Why are they ring at it? They see it as a threat, Julius. In their minds anything new or different is viewed with suspicion and fear. Their suspicions will not have been helped if that poor soul from the Thames reported his experience to the authorities here. They probably assume that the human realm is preparing to invade them. So, as you see, they are ring their machine cannons at the centre of the anomaly in the hopes of stopping
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whatever is to come. I see. It is time to act, gentlemen, said the professor, looking up at the vortex. If we plug the hole while the Grackacks are ring at it, so much the better. They will assume they were successful. The only slight problem is Youre not close enough, professor. Youll never have enough power to disrupt the dual vibration event, said Mr Flynn. Precisely, Danny. Well have to get to higher ground to get as close as we can, said the professor, looking up at the spikes on the bridge. If we climbed to the highest tower in this infernal city wed not be close enough, professor, replied Mr Flynn. The professor stood completely still, his eyes icking back and forth from the spikes to the whirlpool in the clouds. Julius opened his mouth to say something but Mr Flynn shushed him. Hwist, young fella, hes thinking, he whispered as he leaned closer to Julius. Hes doing some calculations, right now. Well have to wait. For two agonisingly long minutes Julius and Mr Flynn stood beside the professor while the Grackacks blasted away at the vortex and soldiers rushed back and forth across the bridge. Suddenly the professor let out a long breath. You wont like it, I fear, Danny.
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Crikey, I hate it when you say that, professor. Ive been calculating the safest distance we can be from the vortex and still be close enough for my watch to disrupt the dual vibration. And? Two hundred and eighty-seven feet, give or take, is the optimum distance, gentlemen. Im afraid well have to purloin one of their gyroyer contraptions to get closer. Mr Flynns shoulders slumped. Remember what happened the last time you tried to y one of them, professor? I do Danny, I still have the twinge in my knee, to remind mebut that was years ago. I have a much better grasp of the whole thing now. Well its all academic til we can half-inch one anyway, professor. Whats a gyroyer? shouted Julius, just as the machine cannon stopped ring. They stood still for a moment to savour the quiet, then a fast ticking sound came from across the river. It grew louder. Julius looked towards the sound to see a small machine ying away from a line of zettmalins tethered on long cables further along the river bank. Thats a gyroyer, Julius, said Mr Flynn, as the machine drew closer. The machines sharp rattling sound cut through the air as it ew across the river, following an erratic
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course like a dizzy bumble-bee. Julius could make out a Grackack seated under what he could only describe as circle of vibrating air. He stared open mouthed straining to take in every detail. Come on, young fella, said Mr Flynn, tapping him on the shoulder. I think I know where we can get one of those things.

~
Julius, Mr Flynn and the professor ran across the bridge, dodging the military manoeuvres along the way, and headed further down the river. Dawn was approaching as they arrived at an expanse of open ground adjoining the docks. Tethered on long steel cables were line after line of zettmalins high in the sky like giant oblong balloons. Lower down, buzzed gyroyers of varying sizes. Grackacks were swarming around grounded gyroyers and other contraptions with tools and oils cans in their long thin hands. An aroma of oil and steel hung in the air and the ground under Juliuss feet hummed in answer to the spinning propellers of the airships. Wow, exclaimed Julius as he held his arms out to catch the breeze of the propellers. Wow, indeed, Julius. They are preparing for a very, very big battle, said the professor as he headed for an unattended gyro-yer. Well use this three
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seater, I think, Danny. Julius stared open mouthed at the machine that stood before him. It was the size of a carriage with three seats in a row along its front. Three small wheels spread out like a tripod beneath, and behind the seats was an array of cogs, wheels and gears made of brass and steel. Rising out of the top of this conguration was a shiny brass shaft topped by opposing long, slender propeller blades. The blades spin in a circular motion, Julius. This produces lift and the propeller at the back produces a rather ill-dened forward motion, said the professor, as he cast his eyes over the cogs and gears. Sohow does it? How does it y? Its much the same as a watch in many ways. You wind it up and the wheels and pinions turn to make the minute and hour hands turn. The gyro-yer is no different, in that respect, except of course that the hour and minute hands turn at incredible speeds and allow one to y like a bird. More like a blind beetle, if you ask me, professor. Anyway, Julius, theres no time to lose; it is wound and ready to go. Sit yourselves down, strap yourselves in and Ill release the stopper. Hop in, young fella, said Mr Flynn, as he scooped Julius up and into the seat. He buckled him in and tossed the carpetbag on his lap. The professor buckled himself into the middle seat and nally Mr
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Flynn squeezed himself in and held the professors cane for him. The watch remained spinning above the professors hand and the blue glow grew to surround the ying machine. He leaned forward and reached his other hand under the seat. He pulled on a lever and straightened up again as a brass arm rose up in front of them. At the top of the arm was a small barrel made of polished wood with many small levers and buttons arranged on it and a small brass plate with an insignia of two wings stretching out from a cog. There was a single dial at the centre. Thats the stopper, said the professor, pointing at a small, red-handled lever before him. He rubbed his hands together and then placed his right hand around a hand-grip in the brass arm just below the barrel. Carefully positioning the whole apparatus so that it tted comfortably between his knees, the professor tried to suppress a giggle. Are we ready, gentlemen? Chocks away! he said as he pulled on the red-handled lever. The assortment of gears and wheels behind their seats spun into action. The whole contraption shook violently; the noise was deafening as the blades above their heads spun so fast that Julius could not see them any moreonly the ghostly trail of their wake. He stained to look over his shoulder. The cogs and wheels behind him were spinning so fast that they were a blur too.
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Needs a little adjustment, said the professor, ddling with the levers and buttons before him while watching several bemused Grackacks approaching. Wed better take off soon, Icarus, said Mr Flynn. They cant see us yet but if we sit still for much longer they will. Nearly there, Danny, replied the professor. Hold on to your hats. We have lift off ! The professor pulled back on the brass arm and the whole apparatus lifted up into the air. The Grackacks in the area rushed to what they thought was a malfunctioning gyro-yer lifting off of its own accord. Julius screamed and fought the urge to be sick on the creatures below as the gyro-yer lurched and bobbed about thirty feet above the ground. The professors pocketwatch kept in perfect harmony with its erratic movements as he grappled with the controls. Its all in the wrist, said the professor as he moved the arm to the left. The gyro-yer lurched and dived back towards the ground. They all let out the cries one emits when faced with imminent death, until the professor pulled back on the arm and the machine shot up towards the zettmalins and the steel cables that secured them to the ground. Turn, left, left, shouted Julius. A steel cable loomed ahead of them. It would cut then in two in a moment. Julius covered his face with his hands and screamed.
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The professor laughed as the craft swerved to the left. Ha, ha. Im getting the hang of it now, he said, nearly tipping his passengers out of their seats but for the leather belts around their waists. The blade above them hit the cable and sparks sprayed over Julius. The grinding sound of metal on metal made his heart miss a beat. Dont do that again, professor, called out Mr Flynn, as they ew towards the river. Julius peeked out between his ngers. He could feel a warm liquid on his upper legs and was thankful for the carpetbag covering his lap. Fear not, Danny, I have it now. Its steady as she goes all the way to the vortex. Well chart a course up the river I think, said the professor, as the gyro-yer made an erratic path away from the zettmalin cables. Julius gripped tight to the edges of his seat as there was nothing else to hold onto. The river and the steel ships were far below and getting smaller. The wind seemed to be trying to prise him from his seat and he did not completely trust the leather strap that was holding him in. He dared not move for fear of disturbing the delicate balance of the ying contraption. The sun was showing a narrow band of ery red on the horizon, which along with the stormy clouds, lit the Grackack city with a eerie amber hue. For miles ahead Julius could see closely huddled buildings. There did not seem to be any plan to the streets and
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he could not see any parks or trees. Large dark buildings of stone and steel rose out of the confusion of the smaller buildings like monsters ready to devour everything around them. As they ew closer to the vortex the machine cannons below started ring at them. They could hear the projectiles whistling past and up through the clouds. Lets make this quick, professor, shouted Mr Flynn above the din. Good idea, said the professor, drawing the gyroyer to a halt and hovering it below the whirlpool of cloud. Danny, Julius, I need your assistance. Place your hands on the control-arm to hold us in position while I prepare the watch. Julius and Mr Flynn leaned in and gripped the control-arm as the professor relinquished his grip. Thats it, steady, steady. Dont allow any movement. We must be as still as a rock in the desert if I am to make this work. Julius felt like anything but a rock in the desert as he gripped the control-arm. For thousands of feet below there was nothing but air to hold him up. All around was useless open sky. Above them was a maelstrom involving not one but two realms and to cap things off the very creatures they were trying to help were trying to shoot them out of the sky. Get me out of this and I swear Ill never complain about anything ever again as long as I live, thought Julius.
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The professor tapped the pocketwatch in various places. A tiny drawer opened from its side. The front of this drawer lowered and another drawer extended from that. The sides of this drawer opened out like a napkin being unfolded to reveal rows and rows of tiny buttons. The professor tapped on various buttons with the tip of his forenger. He then sat back in his seat and took a deep breath before tapping the watch again. It vibrated violently. Hold tight, gentlemen, he said as a ray of orange light shot from the top of the timepiece. It went through the dome of blue light and into the centre of the maelstrom. If my calculations are correct the optical oscillation of the orange light particles will cause a disruption in the dual vibration eld and we will be back to two separate and happy realms before breakfast time. Whats that dial for, professor? said Julius, as he held tightly to the control-arm and studied the barrel of levers and buttons that was holding him in the air. That tells us how much time we have before we will need to rewind the gyro-yer. If the hand is near the left of the dial does that mean it is a lot of time or a little time? The professor and Mr Flynn peered closely at the dial. Good gracious. It wasnt fully wound when we started. Well spotted, Julius. Usually you could count on a few hours in the air, depending on the model.
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So how much time do we have before? Before the blades slow down? said Mr Flynn. Not much more than ten minutes Id say, and then its a rapid descent into the river, young fella. Not to worry, gentlemen, said the professor, looking worried. Well have done our work here in a few minutes. If our friends below dont shoot us out of the sky rst, we will have enough time to make our escape. Julius looked up the clouds. The orange light beam seemed to be doing the trick. The clouds were slowing and settling into more normal, albeit amber, clouds once more. I think that should do it, said the professor as he tapped the pocketwatch. The light faded and the drawers folded themselves up and slipped back into the body of the watch. He took hold of the controlarm and again moved it to the left. The gyro-yer lurched and dived and Juliuss stomach somersaulted. Well nd some open ground to land and then its back to London to sort out this Jack Springheel cove, said the professor, as they sped along above the sharp rooves of the Grackack city. Do you see anywhere to land, gentleman? Juliuss eyes were darting back and forth from the rapidly descending dial to the rapidly approaching ground below. There were only narrow streets and tall chimneys belching out black smoke.
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Over there, professor, said Mr Flynn, pointing to a main thoroughfare. It was too early in the morning to be crowded and it looked just wide enough for the gyro-yers blades. Good work, Danny, said the professor, dipping the ying contraption in that direction. Hold on tight. Landing a gyro-yer is not a craft I have completely mastered yet, if youll excuse the appalling pun? The few Grackacks on the street scattered as the gyro-yer plunged towards them and hit the ground with so much force that it bounced into the air again, sending Juliuss carpetbag somersaulting unnoticed from his lap. The professor slumped forward like a rag doll. With the wind knocked out of him Julius braced himself as well as he could as he watched the ground coming closer. Moments later the gyro-yer collided with the street once more. This time it did not bounce as much but the blades hit a building on the side of the street. The force of the collision sent brick, wood and glass scattering everywhere as the ying machine turned a sharp right and embedded itself into a shop front. Julius hands were trembling too violently to unbuckle the straps holding him in. As the dust around the crashed craft began to settle, Julius could see what he took to be the shops proprietor, wearing a white apron and holding a sweeping brush, staring at the ying machine where his window display should
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have been. Strange looking fruits and vegetables were strewn everywhere and a upturned barrel of pickles was oozing its contents across the oor. Just be thankful he cant see you, Higgins. I dont think an apology would go down very well. Mr Flynn expertly unbuckled his straps. Lets be off, before we cause any more mayhem. He then leaned around the dazed professor to undo Juliuss buckle. Well have to make a quick exit as they say in the music hall. How? Where to? Well do a bit of temporal travelling. What? A time-jump, Julius. Just a small one.

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~
CH A PTER

Thursday 6th July, 1837

5:03 AM

id you say time-jump, Mr Flynn? said Julius. That I did, said Mr Flynn, shaking the professor gently by the shoulders. The professors out for the count. Well have to jump to home base and then well decide what to do. The Grackack shopkeeper leapt out of the puddle of pickles forming around his feet and let out a cry of anger and despair. He then kicked the front of the gyro-yer so hard that Julius could feel the jolt. Other Grackacks were arriving at the scene, crowding around and getting in the shopkeepers way. One of them was surreptitiously pocketing vegetables. The watch remained in the air, an arms length from Juliusits blue light protecting them from the
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Grackack vibration eld, for the time being. Whats home base, Mr. Flynn? asked Julius to distract himself from the time-jump question. Best not worry about that for now. Ill explain it when we get there. For now, dont panicno matter what happens next. Id like to have the time to explain it but I dont sohere goes But, hang on, wait Mr Flynn held the professors hand out to the pocketwatch as if it were a rag dolls and tapped his nger twice against its side. Here we go. Hold hands like youre playing Ringa-Ring-a-Rosy. And remember, dont panic. What? Quickly now, hold hands, and whatever happens dont let go. What shouldnt you do? Let go? Julius felt Mr Flynns hand enfold his right and he held onto the professors with his left. The ticking of the clock was growing louder and faster. Julius was beginning to panic now. Being told not to panic was a clear instruction to panic in his book. He stared at the pocketwatch, waiting for whatever was going to happen next. Which it did in a second. The top and bottom of the watch extended into cone shapes and, on the next tick of the second hand, everything went black and silent, deathly silent. The clearest thing Julius could see was the
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pocketwatch. It was illuminated from within. Out of the corner of his eye Julius could see the professor and Mr Flynn. Then the pocketwatch began to grow in size before Juliuss eyes. Or maybe Im shrinking, he thought. Im going to shrink to nothing and disappear. The incredible shrinking boy! He looked to his left and saw the professor oating in the black void a long, long way away, but he was still holding his hand. Their arms were stretched across the void like India rubber. Julius let out a scream but there was no sound. He looked to his right and saw Mr Flynn oating in space still holding hands with him too. Above, Julius could now see millions of stars moving around them. Looking back at the pocketwatch, which was now as big as a city, Julius realised that they were in fact spinning through space, in a giant game of Ring-a-Ring-a-Rosy. It did not make any sense. Not the spinning in space with a giant pocketwatch partthat was clear enough. It was the part concerning his senses that made no sense. By his reckoning, looking at the size of the watch, Mr Flynn and Professor Fox were hundreds of miles apart, but not only was he holding their hands, but he could see them clearly. His arms were miles long but they felt as if they were their normal length. Julius could see the markings on the side of the watch as large as valleys and the cogs were like vast brass interlocking continents and progressing incredibly slowly. A second seemed to take forever as
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the teeth of each cog bit into place and moved on one notch causing the universe to quake at the end of each tick. As Julius watched the watch tick ve seconds, a thousand years seemed to pass. Im going mad. Julius thought as he oated through the vastness of space. Then the pocketwatch started to shrink and Julius could feel himself falling into its orbit. In the next instant Mr Flynn and the professor were only a real arms length away. The next moment the silence was dispelled by a rush of wind and his own scream as Julius felt himself falling through the air. The hard earth, when his body collided with it, was a welcome but painful surprise. Julius rolled over and saw blue sky above. The pain from the impact coursed through his body. Pain is good. Youre back where things make sense, Higgins. He pulled himself to his feet and looked around. In front of him was the mouth of a cave. To one side of it he saw the oriental-looking man who had given him the piece of paper and the key and saved him from the urchins in Warwick Lane. Another large and burly looking oriental man was helping him to sit down. We made it, young fella, said the burly Chinaman in Mr Flynns Irish accent. Aaaaaahhhh! screamed Julius. It was time to panic.
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He ran to the top of the hill and looked around as he fought for breath. What have you gotten yourself into, Higgins? Above him the sky was a vast luminous blue dome, all round him were hills and valleys of brown earth, strewn with rocks and scrub. In one of the valleys lay a large lake, its surface as still and blue as the sky. The air was crisp to his skin but he could also feel the radiance of the sun. He turned this way and that, looking for something he could recognise. Which part of London is this, then? Juliuss legs gave way and he sat in a heap on the barren hilltop. There was nothing, no sign of civilisation. No roads, no building, no carriages, no people. He lifted a handful of dry earth and watched it sift through his ngers. Then he saw something that made him catch his breath. It was his feet. They were not as he remembered them. The feet on the end of these legs were brown and wearing sandals. He looked at his handsthey were brown too. His hands clutched his clothes. He was wearing a series of bed sheets and blankets as far as he could tell. Cripes, Higgins. That does it. Theyve turned you into a Chinaman! Julius sprang to his feet and looked around. He did a full scan of the horizon, still nothing. Not a sound, not a movement, not even any smells. Julius yearned for the pong from the Thames and the cacophony and chaos of the London streets. Nothing for it, Higgins, youll have to go down and talk to
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those Chinamen. Drawing a resolute breath he trudged down the hillside his knees weak from trembling. At the cave entrance the older of the two men was not to be seen but the burly looking one was sitting on a rock watching Julius approach. He wore a sheepskin waistcoat, a length of cloth wrapped around his head and a sturdy pair of knee-length boots. There was a long, curved knife tucked into his belt. The man saw Juliuss eyes fall on the blade. Lots of bandits around, young fella, he said. YesumYou speak remarkably good English, sir, said Julius, trying to steer the conversation away from sharp objects. No I dont. I cant speak a word of it. Hes trying to start an argument with you, Higgins. Hes looking for an excuse to slice you open with that knife. Oh, I see. My mistake, ehsir. Ah, its an easy mistake to make under the circumstances. Much to Juliuss relief the older Chinaman emerged from the cave with a smile of greeting on his lips. Ah, Julius my boy, welcome to Tibet, he said. Julius considered running up the hill again but knew he would only have to come down eventually. Tibet? WherewhatLook, wheres Mr Flynn and the professor? What have you done with them? Done? Nothing. Were right here, Julius, said the old man, smiling broadly. I will try to explain. Danny,
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here, tells me we had to do an emergency time-jump to evade some angry Grackack shopkeepers. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to appear. But they were not tting together yet. SoyoureProfessor Fox? Correct. But youre a? Tibetan monk, thats right. So hes a Tibetan? said Julius, pointing to the large seated man. No, hes still Irish. You think youre confused now, young fella? Wait til the professor here explains it to you, then youll understand the meaning of the word confusion, said the burly man. So where exactly am I? said Julius, deciding to begin with the more straightforward questions. Tibet, as I said, about two hundred miles west of Lhasa, as the vulture ies, said the professor. Of courseTibet, wherever that is. Sowhy do we all look like Chinamen? Tibetans please, Julius. There is a vast terrain of difference. Very well, Tibetanswhy? Well, Julius, I look like a Tibetan for the best reason of all. I am one. The person you see before you is what I really look like when not time-travelling in distant lands.
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But Im as Irish as a verdant and rain-soaked sod, young fella. This here is what I look like when Im visiting. So why do I look like a China, I mean, a Tibetan? Well that is rather complicated, Julius. Its not a simple matter to explain that particular little aspect of time-travel, said the professor. You see, there is no optimum place to begin to explain it all so I will just have to leap right in and hope you will be able to follow. Oh, that he will, professor. Hes razor sharp, this one. Indeed he is, Danny. Hmm, let us begin with time itselfNo, on second thoughts lets begin with consciousness. Julius, my boy, what is consciousness? Julius thought for a moment. The question had never occurred to him before. Consciousness, my boy, is extraordinary. You could explore it, prod it, poke it, dissect it and still have not the foggiest notion of what it is. You cannot nd it and you cannot hide from it. It is always there but where? Can you point a stick at it? Can you describe its appearance? In short it is an enigma waiting patiently to serve you in ways you cannot even begin to comprehend. Oh. Oh, indeed. Eloquently put, Julius. Now, what can we do with this enigma which we think lies between
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our ears? Answer, anything we want to do. And how do we do this? We use this pocketwatch, said the professor, theatrically producing it from the folds in his robes. Hes getting to the good part now, Julius, said the Irish Tibetan. With this little device we can free our consciousness from its usual narrow connes and travel wherever in time and space we choose. You see, consciousness is an occurrence, an uninterrupted ux of experience which arises in dependence upon the conditions around it. But Im getting to that. How does this simple little pocketwatch do such a phenomenal thing? Im not really sure, to be honest, Julius. It has something to do with clockwork and super-light speed, and a few other things. The timepiece, as we in the business call these devices, amplies your imaginationin a way. In your imagination you can go anywhere and do anything but you are still here. Your consciousness usually refuses to go to the imagined places because it is does not realise that it can. The watch uses what we in the time-travel business call particle entropy theory to return all the atoms that make up your body to the surrounding area and then to accompany your consciousness to a new time and place and reconstitute a new body from the surrounding material to give
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you the form you are in now. Sobecause you have landed in Tibet, the Tibetan soil, air, rocks and plants have given up some of their atoms to wrap a Tibetan Julius around your consciousness. We are all speaking in a Tibetan dialect at present but to your mind it is English because that is what you understand. Dannys accent is from the Western valleys of Tibet but to your ears it is the usual North Dublin lilt. Soso said Julius, as he tried to get his mind around it all. What were you doing giving out notes with keys in them, in Warwick Lane, looking like a Chinaman, I mean, Tibetan? Good point. That reminds me I seem to have misplaced that key, said the professor.

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CH A PTER

~
10

Thursday 1st June, 1837

3:34 PM

ulius, Mr Flynn and the professor spent the afternoon picking up rocks and putting them down again. The key is here somewhere, said the professor, tossing yet another rock to one side. Why didnt you mark the spot, professor? asked Julius. What? And let every bandit or ner-do-well who happens to pass by know that I am hiding something? Found it! said Mr Flynn, as he lifted a large rock over his head. Tossing it to one side, he stooped to pick up a small golden key. He blew on it to remove the dust. Julius and the professor huddled around the nd. It looked very small in Mr Flynns large hand.
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Thats the key you, gave me in Warwick Lane, said Julius. The professor picked it up and rubbed it against his robe to give it back its shine. Then he held it up to the suns rays and turned it in his ngers. It sparkled like new. We are at the end of our quest, Julius, he said. Springheel, or should I say, Charles Vivian, has been found and Shelleys pocketwatch will be returned to the Guild. Whats the key for then, professor? asked Julius. It was Lord Byrons idea, said the professor. He is a friend to the Guild of Watchmakers, like Mr Flynn here. He thought we should have a special hiding place for the watch so he arranged it all. Where do you hide the most valuable thing in England? Ill tell you somewhere in the middle of London; in full view of any beggar or baronet who wished to seeand yet as safe as if it were buried under a mountain. It takes a poet to think of things like that. Byron placed this key into my hand as we stood around Shelleys funeral pyre on that windswept beach in Italy. As the ames consumed Shelleys body I vowed to Byron then that I would nd the pocketwatch and hide it until a new Watchmaker could be foundone who would be a worthy successor to Shelley. So the key has been under that rock since 1822? Precisely, Julius. But, you gave it to me not two days ago. So, how
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come you are only nding it now? Hes a sharp one, professor, said Mr Flynn and chucked. The professor winced. Um, perhaps we could leave that question until- And anyway, if you really are time-travellers, as you say you are, then why dont you just go back in time to nab Mr Springheel before he causes all this vortex trouble, before he even steals the pocketwatch so that none of this never happens, said Julius. Im afraid its not as simple as that, said the professor. Why ever not? The professor scratched his chin. Julius, my boy, this might be an opportune moment to explain one or two things to you about the intricacies of time-travel. Oh, no, hes going to give you the time is like a tablecloth lecture now, young fella, said Mr Flynn, giving Julius a reassuring pat on the shoulder Precisely. You see, Julius, time is like a tablecloth. Not an arrow as you would naturally think, said the professor, as the turned to face the sun and the vast rolling plains. I would? Yes, said the professor. You see, we think of time as stretching out before us and behind us like the trajectory of an arrow. The arrow ies through time from the past, through the present and into the
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future. Simple? Well, its not. You see, if we were to go back and sort out Mr Springheel we would be altering the space-time continuumwe would be producing another present. We may stop the villain from interfering in other realms but what else might we inadvertently change that would alter the ow of time? We time-travellers only interfere in the course of human history when time-criminals like Springheel interfere with it. Usually we would We? You keep referring to time-travellers as if there were more. More than only you and Mr Flynn? Im not a time-traveller, more of a time-passenger, said Mr Flynn. Well get to that at a later date, I think, Julius, said the professor, as he paced back and forth. For now simply know that we are many. Now back to time as a tablecloth. Imagine a tablecloth stretched over a table. It has two dimensionsits length and breadth. Imagine this, Julius, if you willtake a pen and dip it in some ink. Make a dot in the centre of the cloth. That is nowactual reality. If you draw a line a few inches along the breadth of the tablecloth that will represent time following its traditional course into the future. Each step onto the future becomes a present as it occurs. Do you follow? Eh? Now we will complicate matters a little by introducing a time-traveller who is not trapped in that one
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timeline. Imagine a time-traveller going back a week in time and changing something, anything. You would represent that by drawing a line on the tablecloth beginning at the end of your line and going diagonally backwards to an point that is a few inches to the left of your original dot. That is your changed past. Now to let that changed past continue along its natural course you would draw a line straight along the length of the cloth and stop when you draw parallel with the end of the original line. This point is the new present. It is a different present because is has a different pastand it will have a different future. So you see our dilemma. We now have two presents running parallel. Each present is peopled by the same people but they are living in different realities. So my question to you, Julius, is: which is the real present? Which is the actual timeline? Um Youll never get it so Ill tell you. Whichever timeline, or reality you, the time-traveller, are in is the actual one. Er So, that leads us to possible and probable futures and pasts. Forget about the tablecloth for a moment, and think of a tree. The single trunk is the present in this timelinethe timeline we time-travellers have sworn to protect. The splaying branches, each leading to ever smaller branches, represent the future. So let us take a
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journey into the future. The single trunk divides into two, or three, or four branches. These are where the normal course of time is altered by time-criminals out for personal gain, or by time-travellers like me trying to deal with them. Each fork in a branch is an alteration to a timeline. And so on and so on until you have literally millions of possible and probable futures. One of them is our actual timeline, all the others are potential timelines. If I, as a time-traveller, were to travel far forward to the end of one of these branches I have no way of knowing how many branches have sprung up before me. Are you with me? I think so. Go on, professor. The branches closest to the trunk are the probable futures. That is, I can travel a little forward in time and gather information and I can be relatively certain that the future I am in is a probable result of the past I just left. The further I go out in time, the further I go out in the trees branches. The ones further out are possible futures. I could travel to them but have little or no reliable information to help me with my present problem. For instance, I once found myself in a possible future where little boys and girls sat all day in darkened rooms staring, like the dead, at illuminated moving pictures that crashed and hissed as they manipulated the infernal device to kill and maim their fellows represented on the pictures. Clearly this is some preposterous possible future which is the result
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of some diabolical interference by a time-criminal somewhere in the future. I only hope we can be there to deal with it when the interference occurs. SoSo we can go back to London to-? Ah, that leads to your original question, Julius Its not quite, back. I dont understand. I have something in the way of a confession to make, Julius. Me too, said Mr Flynn. Hold on to your hat while you listening to the next bit, young fella. You see, Julius, my boyhow can I put it? Our adventures in London, the Grackacks, the enquiry at Mr Higginss bookshop, all that, well, they havent happened yet. What? I can see that you are somewhat dismayed, Julius. I can understand that. Allow me to explain. We are now in 1st June and, said the professor, consulting his pocketwatch, it is getting on for four oclock. Sososo Im more than a month in the past? asked Julius. Precisely. What? Sosothat means that there is another me right now in London, running home from school? Correct. But thats impossible. How can there be two of me?
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There cant, not in the usual run of things. But when travelling in the time dimension things are a little more complicated. Sosohang onam I in London as well or am I not? What if I travelled to London to talk to myself ? That wouldnt be wise, young fella, you see, there would be a temporal coincidence event of catastrophic proportions. There is no knowing what would result, said Mr Flynn. Sosowait a minute. You said that it was impossible for there to be two of me. So how can there be a temporal coincidence if we meet? My word, hes a sharp one, professor, said Mr Flynn, giving Julius another slap on the back. He is indeed, Danny. You see, Julius, the spatialtemporal continuum you are existing in at this precise moment, in London, is the only one there is. It is what we call the actual present. Butwhat about the me here in Tibet? Hold on, I havent nished yet. The spatial-temporal existence simultaneously here in Tibet is what we in the time business call a potential present. Your own individual potential present does not actually exist in the usual way. You exist in potential. Now, if you go to London and interact with the you in that actual present then the two presents become actual. Because the universe cannot contain two actual presents in the same place, wellall hell would break loose.
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All hell, professor? He means storms, earthquakes, tidal waves, volcanic eruptions, that sort of thing. Butthere is still a Julius Caesar Higgins in London right now? Correct, but he actually exists. You, here in Tibet, potentially exist. But I feel real, said Julius, slapping his sides. And so you are, my boyin a way. Julius felt like running to the top of the hill again. I wouldnt worry too much about all this, young fella. Ive been travelling back and forth so often Ive forgotten if Im a potential or an actual me anymore and it doesnt seem to have done me any harm, said Mr Flynn, with a dismissive wave on his hand. You see, Julius. Our little emergency time-jump has placed you in what we call a time loop. You are in the extraordinary position of having gone back in time to organise events for your own future. An extraordinarily delicate and dangerous procedure. My future? Did you say dangerous? Yes, my boy. But do not be alarmed. I know precisely what I am doing. Im not sure I-. Remember the note, wrapped around the key? said the professor. The note? The one you gave to me in Warwick Lane? The one I gave to you in the back yard?
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Precisely. You wrote that note, or rather, you will write that note and I will deliver it to you to give to me.

~
Julius sat cross-legged at a small writing desk at the back of the cave. Outside the sun was sinking low and a single candle lit the blank sheet of paper before him. After a little thought he dipped the quill into an ink bottle and began to write. Dear Professor Fox and Mr Flynn We have not met yet, but I will require your assistance on the night of Tuesday July 4th or in the early hours of Wednesday morning. Please wait for me at the Thames, near Pauls Warf Pier. A Grackack will need sending back to his true home and I would be forever in your debt if you could convince me not to return to my new lodgings with the rogue, Jack Springheel. My grandfather will be in a state of agitation after an unfortunate misunderstanding, so I would also be most grateful if you would pay him a visit at Higginss Bookshop at your earliest convenience to see that he is bearing up, tolerably. Yours in anticipation, Julius Caesar Higgins Care of Clements Pawnbrokers, Warwick Lane.
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Julius perused his penmanship. Although he could read every word clearly as if it were the Kings English he could see that the letters were anything but as, bs and cs. Cor, if Whacker OBrynn could see me now. Fluent in Tibetan and I havent even studied a word of it. He folded the paper carefully around the golden key, then wrote on the cover: Please deliver to Julius Higgins in Warwick Lane on the evening of Monday 3rd of July. You will have no trouble locating me. I will be surrounded by a band of murderous urchins. Your intercession at that moment will be most appreciated. That done, Julius looked toward the mouth of the cave and watched long gold-fringed clouds forming in the pale blue sky. Well, Higgins, who would have thought youd end up here? Then another thought occurred to him. He picked up the note and scurried outside. So, let me get this straight. I havent met Mr Springheel yet? Crimper McCready hasnt tried to cut my ears off ? I didnt have thatthat little misunderstanding with my grandfather? Precisely, said the professor. Julius let out a sigh of relief. It was the rst bit of reassuring news he had heard in a while. Thats perfect then, I just have to go back, I mean forward and not do all the things I did and then
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Not quite, Julius. I am afraid we will have to let all those unfortunate occurrences stand. We cant countenance any more interference with our current time line. But We will simply have to time-jump into the future, to just after we left it, otherwise we would meet ourselves, would we not? We will go directly to Springheels hideout, with you leading the way, and switch off the infernal device causing the vortex, retrieve the Shelleys pocketwatch and there you have it problem eliminated. Eliminated? You mean? Bless you, Julius. No nothing so drastic. No, our Guild, the Guild of Watchmakers that is, are not murderers. No, we will consider the matter carefully and well most probably end up banishing the fellow somewhere distant where he can do no more harm. Timbuktu, somewhere like that, young fella. But, said the professor, turning abruptly and raising one nger in the air. We are getting ahead of ourselves, gentlemen. Julius, do you have the note? Yes, professor. Here it is. Thank you. I will have to beg your patience now, my boy, while I prepare a doppelgnger to deliver it to said the professor, reading Juliuss directions, to Warwick Lane. Doppelgnger?
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Yes, Julius. Mr Flynn will explain it all to you. I have a busy night ahead of me, said the professor, walking towards the cave. Julius looked at Mr Flynn. Doppelgnger?

~
Millions of stars carpeted the vast sky. Julius and Mr Flynn sat around a small re at the mouth of the cave. Inside, the professor sat cross-legged with his hands resting, palms up, on his lap. In his open right palm lay the note wrapped around the golden key. He had been sitting motionless for hours. The candles around him burned lower and lower. Whats a doppelgnger? Mr Flynn? whispered Julius. Its one of those things the Tibetan fellas do from time to time. They send an image of themselves somewhere else to do things for them. It comes in handy now and then. It does? It does. You see, the professor can go to a timeline without causing disruption as he would if he used his pocketwatch. You see, the professor is already in London when his doppelgnger will be there but it wont cause a temporal coincidence event because hes not there, actually or potentially. The professor began to make a humming sound.
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It seemed to be coming from the pit of his stomach. They both turned to look at him. Hes about to do it. Watch the note in his hand, young fella. Julius saw it gradually fading. In another few seconds it had vanished, leaving an empty hand. Its done now, Julius. Hell fall asleep now. It tires the poor old fella out, doing them doppelgnger things. Time for some sleep for ourselves too. They wrapped themselves up in blankets and bedded down by the re. Julius looked up at the stars. How long does it take to learn to do that, Mr Flynn? he whispered. Lifetimes, young fella, lifetimes.

~
The next morning arrived crisp and biting cold. Julius ran on the spot to get his blood owing while Mr Flynn set the re to a prepare breakfast. The professor emerged from the cave and breathed in deeply as he stretched out his arms. Good morning, gentlemen. Ready to do battle with evil time-criminals today? We are indeed, professor, said Mr Flynn, as he put a pot of water on the re to boil. Its a simple plan. We time-jump back to London
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shortly after we left the Grackack London and make for Springheels hideout and put an end to his meddling once and for all. Julius, you can lead the way, and Danny, your pugilistic skills may be required Springheel may not give up without a ght. Itll be a pleasure, professor. Ill give him a fat lip for Shelley, said Mr Flynn cracking his knuckles.

~
After a breakfast of porridge made from indeterminable grains, the time-travellers held hands in a circle at the mouth of the cave. Juliuss heart was pumping like a locomotives piston and his palms were sweating. Dont worry about a thing, young fella, whispered Mr Flynn. Just remember to bend at the knees when you hit them cobblestones. The professor let go of Mr Flynns hand momentarily to tap the pocketwatch. Julius took a deep breath. Blackness and silence fell for an instant and then, once again, Julius found himself careening through time and space. The giant pocketwatch spun slowly as it hurtled past a sun and through the eye of a galaxy. The ticking boomed through the vacuum of space as the galaxy diminished into the distance. Then a star exploded like a rework, leaving a cloud of purple vapour ten light-years across. Julius looked across at Mr Flynn
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miles way but still impossibly at arms length and laughing as if he had just heard the best joke in the universe. The pocketwatch and its three travellers spun through the purple cloud, the journey taking thousands of years and a few seconds all at once. This is the only way to travel, Higgins. The only way.

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CH A PTER

~
11

Thursday 6th July, 1847

5:54 AM

ith a whoosh of air and a high-pitched yell, Julius hit the cobblestones and tumbled over onto his back. Dawn was breaking over London, his London. Rubbing his bruised knee, he got to his feet and looked in vain for the dome of St Pauls above the rooftops. The pong of the Thames hit his nose with the force of a cricket bat. Theres no place like home is there, Higgins. No time to lose, gentlemen, said the professor, as he swung his cane and brushed out the tips of his moustache with his ngers. I must admit, this is one of my favourite manifestations. He was a distinguished English gentleman in a grey frockcoat once more.
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And its good to be back in my broken down old hovel, too, said Mr Flynn, straightening his waistcoat. Lead on, MacDuff, said the professor, tapping Julius on the shoulder. Julius looked around to get his bearings. They were in one of the least respectable lanes of Cheapside. Grey walls and broken window panes on both sides. From the building closest to Julius came the mufed sound of a crying baby. Further down, two men could be heard arguing inside a doorway. A small, thin dog stared at Julius with a hopeful glint in its eye. This way, Julius said, heading for the northern end of the lane. They came to a medium-sized street that was already lling up with people carrying and wheeling their goods to the various markets in the borough. Julius looked up at the street sign on the corner wall. Earl Street. I know where we are. We can be in Warwick Lane in a few minutes if we run. Julius, the professor and Mr Flynn ran along Waters Lane. In less than ve minutes, they entered Warwick Lane. The street was empty except for a group of small, bare-footed children standing across the road in front of Clements pawnshop. Slow up there, young fella, said Mr Flynn. Lets see whats going on before we steam in and start knocking heads together. The three slowed to a casual walk and managed to
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come up behind the children without being noticed. As Julius looked through the shop window he could see why the street urchins were not displaying their usual animal vigilance. The items on display in the shop window were moving. Julius peered over the urchins lice-ridden heads to get a closer look. The shrunken head seemed to be dancing a polka and a set of marbles in a cigar case were jumping around like eas in a frying pan. In the window panes Julius could see the reections of the urchinseyes and mouths open wide with astonishment. He recognised some of the faces; they were the very ones who had tried to extract money from him with menaces. Ahem, coughed the professor, to attract the urchins attention. They spun around and twelve pairs of eyes weighed up the situation quicker that you could spit on a peelers boot. Oi, said the girl-urchin, who had given the commands the last time she and Julius had met. No looking at the dancing ngs lest youve paid a duce apiece. A duce? What are ye talking about, girl? Sure isnt it a free show for all to see? said Mr Flynn. No it aint. Were in charge ere. Clements told us to keep an eye on the place while im an the toffy geezer went running off down the street. So we gets prots from any ng wot appens ere while were in
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charge, said the girl. When did they leave, miss? asked the professor. Thats information. Thatll cost ya a shillin. A shilling? You do not comprehend the seriousness of the situation, little girl. The window display you are attempting to extort money from us to observe is the result of Springheel and his infernal contraption. He and Clements have caused a destabilisation in the space-time continuum resulting in this extreme oscillation of all atomic matter in the vicinity, namely this very building, said the professor, placing his hand against the wall to feel the vibrations. If I am not mistaken we will experience an excessive oscillation event in a matter of minutes unless we do something about it. Excessive oscillation event, professor? said Julius. He means a bloody big explosion, said Mr Flynn. Precisely. We must identify the centre of the destabilisation occurrence and apply a counter oscillation eld to re-align the vibration frequency to our realm. We must gain entry into Springheels rooms. There, if I am not mistaken, we will nd the epicentre of the disturbance. I can show you how to get in there, professor, said Julius. Its just around the corner and up the stairs. The girl glared at Julius. He edged closer to Mr Flynn. There is no time to lose. Julius, lead the way, said
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the professor, with a wave of his cane. Ang on, ang on, shouted the girl, holding out her arms. Itll cost ya four shillings to break into the toff s lodgings. Come on now, little girl, run along and play, said Mr Flynn, as he walked towards the alleyway. Neddys up, called the girl, as she scrambled to beat him to the doorway. The urchins all rallied around her waving coshes and batons. They blocked the entrance, furrowing their brows and setting grimaces on their dirty faces. Mr Flynn stopped and put his hands on the hips. This is a ne thing and no mistake, he said to one of the older boys standing beside the girl. Do my eyes deceive me or is the leader of this gang a girl? Have you no self respect at all, fellas? The boy and his companions shufed their feet and looked down at the cobbles. Wellsort ofwe had a vote ya see. A vote? My word, sure, why dont you vote her for prime minister while youre at it? I never heard such a thing. Ive seen everything now, so I have. Oi, yelled the girl casting a menacing glare at the boy. Dont change the subject. Pay up or sling yer ook. Pay the girl, Danny, we have no time for an altercation, said the professor, pressing his hand against the vibrating wall.
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Very well, professor, but its against my principles to do business with females, said Mr Flynn, as he shed some coins from his waistcoat and ung them down the alley. Like a swarm of rats after a fresh stilton, the mob of children sprang in the direction of the coins jangling along the cobblestones. Julius, the professor and Mr Flynn headed up the narrow stairway. At the top, Mr Flynn tried the door. Finding it locked, he kicked it open as if it were made of paper. Julius rushed into Jack Springheels room. Books, clocks and clock components lay all over the carpet and a whirlpool was oating in mid-air in the centre of the room. Arcs of lightning icked from the whirlpools centre like a spiders legs. Julius could feel his hair standing up as one of the arcs attached itself to his head. The scattered objects began moving about the room, as if invisible hands were trying to pull them into the whirlpool. The pictures rattled against the walls and a table shufed its way across the shuddering oor. What is it? shouted Julius above the crackle and hiss. The professor held his top hat on with one hand to stop it ying into the whirlpool. This is the epicentre of the destabilisation occurrence. That, if I am not mistaken, is the precise spot where Springheels vortex-opening contraption stood. It caused an
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aberrant vibration that is spreading throughout the building. We do not have much time. The professor took the watch from his waistcoat pocket. It is no wonder Springheel did a it, gentlemen. I should think this little episode will have unnerved the cove sufciently for him to desist from meddling for some considerable time, said the professor above the din. Julius cast an eye over the disarray of books, hoping to see Harrisons diary. The watch spun in the air and cast a red light when the professor tapped it. The entire room was stained with red, but the whirlpool seemed to be trying to suck the light into its core. Strands of red light interlaced with the whirlpool, making it resemble a spinning red rose. Gradually, it sucked more and more of the red light into its core. As Julius watched, the whirlpool slowed and weakened and the room grew quieter. Then the walls ceased to vibrate and the air became still as the whirlpool faded and then nally disappeared. Julius, the professor and Mr Flynn stood quietly for a moment, getting their breaths back. Well, that is that, gentlemen. And not a moment before time, said the professor, returning the watch to his pocket. But where to nd Springheel now? Thats the question, professor, said Mr Flynn. Indeed, Danny, he has slipped through our ngers
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once again, I fear. Ill make enquiries at the bare-knuckle bout tonight, professor. If anyone knows anything about anyone itll be The Fancy. Very well, Danny. In the meantime I must make some enquiries of my own. Matters are becoming seriouswe may need more than one Watchmaker here to put a stop to this. Mr Flynn turned to Julius. Time for you to go home and patch things up with your grandfather, young fella? Youve been a great help to us but we can take care of things from here. What? Dannys right, Julius. Its probably for the best, said the professor. I cant go back. Why not, for goodness sake? It cant be that serious, can it? said the professor. Its complicatedlook, I cant go back. For one thing Crimper McCready is going to kill me and and And? said the professor. I just cant go back. Not ever. Surely youre exaggerating, Julius, said the professor. Whatever argument you had with Mr Higgins, he wont be angry forever. Oh, dont you believe it, professor, said Mr Flynn. The old wheeler-dealer can be as stubborn as a mule
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with an ear ache when he puts his mind to it. You know my grandfather? said Julius. Mr Flynn looked at Julius A long time ago. They were silent for a few moments. The professor tapped the silver top of his cane as he deliberated. What do you think, Danny? he said after a long pause. Mr Flynn scratched his stubbly chin. I dont know, professor. Maybe we should give his grandfather a few more days to calm down. Yes, said Julius. And I could help you catch Springheel. How? said the professor. I know what he looks like. If he shows up at the bare-knuckle bouts I could point him out. I dont know about this, Julius. We dont usually take civilians on our missions, said the professor, still tapping his cane Please, just for one more day. I promise Ill go home after that. The professor raised his eyebrows. Would you be prepared to put up with, young Julius for another day, Danny? WellI cant see what harm it could do, professor. Ill take the boy to the bout tonight. He might enjoy it. Julius, the Professor and Mr Flynn walked down Warwick Lane. Twelve pairs of eyes watched them
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from the alleyway, waiting for them to disappear around the corner. Change of plans, shipmates. Were moving into the removals business, said the girl. She scuttled up the stairs to Jack Springheels lodgings. Her gang followed.

~
Mr Flynns lodgings were in Mincing Lane, a slingshot from the new Customs House. It was a townhouse in a row of townhouses that were trying unsuccessfully to exude a look of respectability. At the door, the professor tipped his hat and took his leave. Mr Flynn pounded his st on the door, ignoring the door knocker. From inside Julius could hear hurrying footsteps and a faint Im coming, Im coming. The door was opened by a small respectable-looking woman in widows black. Why, Mr Flynn. Mrs Mottel, said Mr Flynn, tipping his hat and bowing. Come in, come in, she said, excitedly curtseying as she stepped back to usher them in. When you didnt come ome last night we was hall worried, we was. Its not like our Mr Flynn to be out hall night, not without hinforming us, I said to Kitty, didnt I Kitty?
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That you did, Mrs M, came a distant reply from the scullery at the end of the hall. Sorry about that, Mrs Mottel. I was time-travelling again and forgot the time. Oh, Mr Flynn, you are a one, said Mrs Mottel, as her whole body quivered with suppressed laughter. And whos this young gentleman? she said, looking Julius up and down and clapping her tiny white hands together. This, Mrs Mottel, is Master Julius Higgins. Hell be staying with us just for tonight, while we save London from an evil time-criminal with designs on making incursions into a parallel realm with sharptoothed denizens. Oh, Mr Flynn, you and your stories said Mrs Mottel, slapping him playfully on the arm. Ell be the death of me, wont e Kitty? That e will, Mrs M, came the distant reply once again. Ill get Kitty to air the bed in the spare room for you, Master iggins. Youll nd us hall very haccommodating ere. Wont e Kitty? That e will, Mrs M, came the reply. And if youd be so kind as to bring us up some tea and crumpets when you have a moment, Kitty, called out Mr Flynn, as he climbed the creaking stairs. That I will, Mr Flynn. The rst thing Julius noticed about Mr Flynns
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rooms was the fragrance of lavender coming from the bunch in the small crystal vase on the dining table. Mr Flynn threw his hat on the a peg behind the door, slipped off his coat and sat down heavily in one of the two reside chairs. Ah, its good to be home again. Julius wandered over to an oak bookcase and ran his ngers across the spines of the books. Mr Flynn pulled off his boots and massaged the toes of his right foot, making the bones crack. Make yourself at home, Julius, he said, poking the almost-dead embers in the replace. Well rest up here for the day and then well go to the bare-knuckle bout this evening. He relaxed back into his chair and closed his eyes. I think Ill have a kip. Wake me up when Kitty brings the crumpets. Julius looked at the landscape paintings on the wall: a shepherdess herding some sheep with a playful collie at her side, and a smaller still-life of apples and pomegranates. He sat down in the other reside chair and watched Mr Flynn sleeping. The stillness of the room was only disturbed by Mr Flynns chest rising and falling with each breath. He tried to recall if his grandfather had ever said anything about Mr Danny Flynn, the champion bare-knuckle boxer of London. Julius could not recall his grandfather ever mentioning him,
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or bare-knuckle boxing for that matter. Then Julius remembered the unwanted tips on boxing his grandfather tired to give him when he complained of being bullied. Julius sat back in the chair and looked around the room. He fell asleep before he could think anymore about it.

~
Mr Flynn strode along a narrow side street with Julius jogging to keep up with him. The air was as still as a library after closing time. But the rumble of a large crowd could be heard faintly a only few streets away. As Julius and Mr Flynn turned a corner the rumble grew louder. Turning another corner, they joined the stream of men on their way to the bare-knuckle bout. Some recognised Danny Flynn, the champion of all London, and tipped their hats respectfully; others nudged their companions and whispered as they nodded in his direction. There were costermongers, out to enjoy an evening of prize ghting after pushing barrows of fruit all day; liveried footmen and off duty soldiers in the mix, as well as gentlemen out for an evenings sport. Mr Flynn inclined his head slightly and smiled to acknowledge every greeting, but he did not tip his hat. In the world of The Fancy he was king, and kings do
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not doff their hats to anyone. As they approached a warehouse door, a small group of boxing enthusiasts quit their animated discussions, tipped their hats and stood aside like schoolboys caught with cigar butts. Good evening, Mr Flynn, said a very thin young man with a clay pipe in the corner of his moutha footman, by the look of him. Good evening, fellas, he said, without a look in their direction, and stepped through the cut-out warehouse door. Julius followed directly behind. The hubbub of a hundred voices hit his ears like a gust of wind. The smell of the oil from the lamps hanging from the high ceiling mingled with the cigar smoke and the musky French cologne fashionable with the dandies. A group of men parted and tipped their hats when Mr Flynn approached. A large man with a farmers ruddy face and bushy sideburns stepped forward and thrust out his hand. Mr Flynn, may I say what an honour it is. Ive come all the was from Cheddar Gorge for some sport, Mr Flynn, and I mean to have some, indeed I do. Welcome to town, Mr? said Mr Flynn. Trosset, sir. Reginald Trosset. Welcome, Mr Trosset. I hope tonights entertainment will be worth the trip. Julius watched Mr Trossets red face glow with joy
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as Mr Flynn patted him on the arm and walk on by. The farmer returned to his group and they toasted the encounter with their hip asks. Gradually, Julius and Mr Flynn made their way to the benches around the makeshift ghting square. Mr Flynn surveyed the crowd. Its a good turn-out, and no mistake, young fella, he said above the hubbub. Julius was just about to ask him why everyone seemed to like him so much when he saw Crimper McCready standing beside his father, George McCready of McCreadys Quality Meats. George McCready was a larger and older version of his sona stale and slightly mouldy currant bun. Julius ducked behind Mr Flynn. Cripes, Higgins. Whatevers the matter, young fella? You look like youve seen a ghost, said Mr Flynn. Oh, its nothingI mean, I just saw someone from school, thats all. Now theres a coincidence. Lets go over and say hello. No! No? NoI mean, well, you see, hes the one who wants to murder meI thinkor cut my ears off, or stab me in the eyeI dont think hes made up his mind. Youre babbling, Higgins. Stop it. Why would he want to do that?
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II seem to irritate him, I think. Oh you do, do you? Which one is it, young fella? The fat one, standing beside the other fat one but Id rather Follow me, well sort this out, said Mr Flynn looking in George McCreadys direction. In a moment Mr Flynn had caught the butchers eye and nodded his head in greeting. Julius peeked out from behind him to see Mr McCready go weak at the knees and cough on the cigar he was smoking. As Mr Flynn strode towards him, McCreadys round face lit up like a small boys in a sugar factory. Julius followed in his wake and took a deep breath. Mr Flynn, or Danny The Duke if I may be so bold, it is indeed an honour, sir, said Mr McCready, blushing from ear to ear, which made him look like a raspberry. Mr Flynn extended his hand towards the butcher, who pumped it for all he was worth. It is indeed an honour, Mr Flynn, indeed it is, indeed. I watched you knock out Freddy The Frigate McNabb at Spitalelds in 32. Won myself ve pounds that day, ha, ha. Well Im glad to be of service, Mr? McCready, sir, George McCready. Allow me to introduce my son, Christopher, Crimper to his school chums. A ne boy and an enthusiast of the pugilistic arts if ever I saw one, sir. How do you do, young fella, said Mr Flynn, as he
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took Crimpers hand in his. Very well, thank you, sir, said Crimper, his face beaming with joy. Just then, Julius moved out from behind Mr Flynn. Crimpers face collapsed into a confusion of surprise, anger and terror as his brain attempted to compute what the extraordinary turn of events would mean for his health. Here, Julius, meet Mister and Master McCready, said Mr Flynn affably. Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir, said Mr McCready, pumping Juliuss hand. Any friend of The Duke is a friend of McCready and son, ha, ha. Thank you, sir. Here Christopher, shake the young gentlemans hand, said Mr McCready elbowing his gapingmouthed son in the ribs. Hello McCready, fancy seeing you here, said Julius, extending his hand with a non-committal halfsmile. Ello, iggins, replied Crimper, accepting the hand suspiciously. My word, do you fellas know each other? said Mr Flynn in astonishment. Ehyes, sirthat is, were at school together, said Crimper. At school? Sure youre a big fella to still be at the books arent you, Master McCready?
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Ah, well you see, Mr Flynn, interjected Mr McCready. Christopher is the shy type, you see. Hes not very good at putting himself forwardso the masters dont teach himso he doesnthow can I put it?pass his examinations. Oh, I see, Mr McCready. You have a dilemma there, and no mistake. Sure, the boy cant be at school all his life, now, can he? No indeed, Mr Flynn, no indeed. Hes needed in the shop but, if he cant add and subtract I take your point, Mr McCready, said Mr Flynn, looking Crimper up and down with a studied air. What you need, son, is someone to help you with the difcult bits. Crimper gaped and blushed. Mr Flynn continued. Now, this young fella here, he said placing his hand on Juliuss shoulder, has brains to spare. Im sure if you asked him hed be more than happy to give you a leg up in the academic stakes. A bell sounded nearby and the hubbub of the crowd rose in pitch and intensity as the sportsmen moved to take their places for the rst bout. Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Flynn, said Mr McCready, extending his hand through the jostling crowd. Likewise, Im sure, and you too, young fella. Remember what I said now, said Mr Flynn slapping
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Crimper manfully on his shoulder. Crimpers reply was lost in the throng as they made their way to the front of the stalls. He wont give you any more trouble now, young fella, said Mr Flynn, as he settled back into his seat and exchanged nods with the two boxers who were entering the square for the rst bout.

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CH A PTER

~
12

Friday 7th July, 1837

1:34 AM

ulius and Mr Flynn left the warehouse in the early hours of the morning. Juliuss head was swimming from the cigar smoke and the two or three nips of brandy he had accepted from peoples hip asks between bouts. Mr Flynn chuckled as Julius skipped along, boxing with the moonlight shadows. That was amazing, Mr Flynn. Amayzing! I never had such a good time in all my life. Those bare-knuckle boxers are good fellows, arent they, Mr Flynn. They are indeed, none better. Julius jumped up and jabbed at Mr Flynns shoulder. I could be boxer, if I had a few lessons, couldnt I?
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Mr Flynn backed off, pretending to be in pain. Julius advanced, jabbing at his stomach and side. Mercy, mercy, said Mr Flynn. Take that, and that. Mr Flynn ducked down low to protect his stomach and Julius launched an assault on his hunched shoulders, but the boxer lunged forward and scooped Julius up and whirled him around on his shoulder. Julius laughed. His head was spinning. I getting dizzy, said Mr Flynn, as he let Julius down and rufed his hair. Im glad you enjoyed the evening. Ill say, said Julius, looking up at the dark face under the rim of the top hat. Julius took in a deep breath to try to clear his head. I was wondering, Mr Flynn? Yes? I was wonderingwell, everyone wanted to shake your hand, they hung on your every word. How do you do it? How do you get people to like you so much? Oh, that. Well, young fella, its like this. We might not want to admit it, especially not to that lot in there, but we all have a hard life and we all want to be lifted out of it once in a while. If someone will give us a kind word and a bit of attention it does the world of good. So, I suppose, thats what I do. The fact that I could beat any one of them to a pulp plays a big part
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in it too, of course. Yes. Lets get home. Mrs Mottle will probably be waiting up, worrying, said Mr Flynn, leading Julius down a dark alley. I know a short cut. After they had been walking for a while Mr Flynn stopped. He glanced over his shoulder. What is it, Mr Flynn? Its the sound of three or four fellas creeping up behind us, said Mr Flynn, louder than he needed to. He ushered Julius on and they walked in silence for a time until they came to a an intersection of two alleyways. The moon hung overhead, casting a silver veil over the darkness. More sounds of shufing feet came from ahead of them. Here, hold on to my hat, young fella. Stick close into the wall, things might get ugly, whispered Mr Flynn, as he removed his top hat and cracked his knuckles. You might as well come out, youre making that much racket youll wake the dead, he said to the darkness. Two crouched gures emerged from the alley to the right. The moonlight fell on the domes of their billycock hats and their hunched shoulders. Behind him Julius could hear movement in the shadows, but he could see nothing. What can I do for you, gentleman? said Mr Flynn.
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One of the men straightened his back and stepped out into the centre of the alley. Below the rim of his hat his face was obscured by a neckerchief tied across his nose. Its strictly a business matter, Mr Flynn, no disrespect intended. Were under orders to deliver the boy to a gentlemen, said the man. Would the rogue go by the name of Springheel, by any chance? No names was given, Mr Flynn, only the promise of two sovereigns a piece. Well, youll have to earn it, gentlemen, because Ill not give up the boy without breaking a few skulls rst. Like I said, Mr Flynn, its only a matter of business, said the man as he nodded to his companion to step forward. You fellows in the back, you heard Mr Flynnlets get this done with, he called over Danny The Dukes shoulder. Hobnail boots clanged on the cobblestoned behind Julius. He leapt back into the safe shadow of the nearest wall. Two masked men rushed passed him. Mr Flynn stepped into the centre of the crossroads between the two alleyways. He did not appear to be aware of the villains bearing down on him from behind. The moon shone like the oil lamp above a boxing square. Julius bit into his knuckle to stop himself from calling out. The rst masked man ran at Mr
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Flynn. Just at the last moment Mr Flynn stepped back with his right foot and his right elbow shot out like a piston. It was a bulls-eye on the villains nose. Julius heard the crunch of bone breaking as he landed at on his back on the cobbles. His billycock hat rolled into the gutter. Well, hes earned his two sovereigns. Whos next? said Mr Flynn. The leader raised his sts and nodded for his companion to follow. Well go at him from two fronts, lads, he called to the other gures skulking in the shadows beyond Julius. Three of them took their places behind Mr Flynn. They too had neckerchiefs obscuring their faces and their hats were pulled down tight on their heads. Mr Flynn waited with his hands by his sides. Suddenly, one of the three villains behind him moved forward. An instant later the leader of the gang moved in too. Mr Flynn side-stepped and blocked the leaders punch and smashed a right jab into his face before pulling him into oncoming path of the other man, smashing their heads together. While the leader and the other man were falling into a heap Mr Flynn spun around and caught one of the other men with a jab to the stomach as he ducked under the mans roundhouse punch then delivered a knockout uppercut to the jaw and spun around to take care of the remaining two who were crouched
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on each side of him. One of them lunged forward and grabbed him around the neck from behind. The other one took aim and would have landed a perfect knockout punch if Mr Flynn he had not ducked at the last moment. The st landed instead in the other mans face, sending him reeling back into the shadows cursing his companion. Do you want to try again? said Mr Flynn to the man left standing. The man jabbed nervously at the air a couple of times as Mr Flynn ducked gracefully. We can call it a night if you want, my friend; youve earned your two sovereigns by now, Id say. You know I cant, Mr Flynn. Okay then. Mr Flynns st shot out and cracked the mans chin and he fell like the last sack of the day from a coalmans cart. The nal man had by now managed to untangle himself from his leader and was backing away into the shadows rubbing his forehead. Mr Flynn followed him. Julius came out from the shadows and stepped towards the crossroads of the alleys to follow Mr Flynn and to congratulate him. But a sweaty hand grabbed him from behind and held him tight. Julius could smell the stale cigar smoke on the hand clamped around his mouth. He struggled but could not move. The slim, top-hatted, gure of Jack
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Springheel stepped out of the shadows across the way. The moonlight glinted on the golden tip of his cane as he twirled it through his ngers. Springheel followed Mr Flynn down the alleyway and out of sight. Julius felt a wave of strength surge through him. He bit into the eshy hand and his assailant cursed in pain. Damn and blast. Julius struggled and wiggled to break the grasp and tried to call out a warning but a hand was clamped over his mouth again. He dropped Mr Flynns hat as they wrestled frantically in the darkness until he was slammed against the wall and slapped hard across his face. Damn and blast it, Higgins. Were only trying to do you a good turn, said Clements, between wheezing and heaving for breath. Hold still and well spring you from Flynn and his vile saboteurs. Theyre foreign agitators you know. Theyll stop at nothing. I dont want to Hush, Higgins, said Clements, clasping his hand over Juliuss mouth again. Plenty of time to explain it all. Youve had a nasty experience, what with being kidnapped and all that. Julius squirmed his head into position and bit down hard on Clements thumb. Damn and blast you to Hades, Clements yelled, as he leaped up and down cradling his wounded thump. Julius ran towards the crossroads and straight into Jack Springheel stepping
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around the corner. Julius, it is so good to see you again, he said, grabbing Juliuss lapel. Whatwhat have you done with Mr Flynn? Mr Flynn wont be troubling us any more, Julius, you can be assured of that. Julius pulled himself away, dodged around Springheel and headed down the alley. Mr Flynn, Mr Flynn. He had only gone a few paces when the remaining villain came at him from the shadows and caught him by the shoulder. Where you going? he said. Let me go, said Julius, but the man dragged him back to Springheel. Youre safe, with us now, Julius, and we shall never let you out of our sight again, said Springheel. We had an agreement, if you remember? You agreed to do any odd jobs Clements might require. Well, it just so happens that one has come up. Yes, Higgins, said Clements, wrapping a handkerchief around his swollen thumb. Well all be as rich as kings when weve nished. Richer, said Springheel. Yes, richer. Clements, pay the unconscious gentlemen what we owe them and well be on our way. We have much to do and precious little time to do it in, especially if Flynns agitators are on our trail.
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Pay them? For what? You saw what happened, said Clements, taking Julius by the shoulder to lead him away. They fell like skittles as soon as the brute breathed on them. They told us they were the best. Clements, you rotund reprobate, you are such a tradesman. Just pay the fellows what we agreed. Besides, we dont want them or their ilk on our backs as well, you know. Tradesman? My grandfather was an earl, Ill have you know, Springheel. Really, you amaze me, said Springheel, as he held rmly to Juliuss arm and led him away. Clements muttered to himself while fumbling through his pockets with his one good hand. He ung a handful of coins in the direction of the fallen warriors and placed two sovereigns in the hand of the only one left standing. I trust you will see to the welfare of your fellows? Good night to you, my man, he said, then trotted after Springheel. Tell me, Julius, said Springheel. What do you know about canaries?

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CH A PTER

~
13

Friday 7th July, 1837

4:34 AM

ake up, wake up, Higgins. Someone was shaking Juliuss shoulder. He tried to open his aching eyes, but the candlelight stung them shut again. Fatigue and cold were boring like worms into every pore of his skin. He tried to pull himself up into a sitting position. I left Mr Flynns hat in the alley. Springheels expecting us, Higgins, said Clements. Its time for you to earn your keep, me lad. Where am I? Here, have a nip of this, warm you up a bit, said Clements, offering him his hip ask. Youll need your wits about you where youre going. Julius grabbed the hip ask. He threw back his
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head and drank. The brandy made him gag but then it owed, like honey, all the way down to his stomach, dispelling the cold as it went. Clements snatched the ask back. Steady on, steady on. Springheels waiting, come on, hurry. Leave me alone, said Julius, opping back down and closing his eyes. No time for that, Higgins youre just a bit hungover, thats all, said Clements, lifting Julius up by the lapels of his jacket and shaking him gently. Theres work to be done and money to be made, Julius pulled himself away and climbed off the sofa, his head swimming from the brandy. He squinted, trying to get his bearings. I remember now, they took me to a dark house. You fell asleep, Higgins. Heavy curtains covered the windows. Candlelight fell on white dust sheets thrown over the furniture in the large room. They looked like sleeping ghosts. Where am I? That doesnt matter, Higgins. Pull yourself together. What did you do to Mr Flynn? Follow me, said Clements, picking up a candelabra. This is not a game were playing, young man. He pulled back his coat to show a pistol tucked into the inside pocket. Julius could feel the blood draining from his face.
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I suggest you do exactly as you are told. Unless you want to end up like that Irish rufan. Julius sat back onto the chaise and looked at the carpet. A moment later he vomited on it. Too much brandy, my boy. Thatll teach you a lesson, said Clements, patting Juliuss heaving back. Its a good job were not paying rent here.

~
Clements held Juliuss arm while they walked down the long, dark corridor. The candelabras light shone on the portraits hanging along the walls. Julius looked at the dead eyes staring back at him from the paintings. He tried to think but found it impossible. Where his mind had once been he found only a dark, empty chasm. No matter how lonely and miserable things had been in Juliuss life, he had always had the desire to survive, to reach that happy land that had to be there, over the next dark hill. But survival did not seem worth the ght, not with Mr Flynn dead. They climbed stairs and walked along more dark corridors until they came to a door. Clements knocked. Julius had to shade his eyes when he was nudged inside. There were candles were all around the perimeter of the room, along the mantle piece and on every other at surface that there was; they warmed and thinned the still air. Dark velvet curtains
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hung over the windows and bare boards stretched across the oor. Welcome to our new lodgings, Julius, said Springheel, stooping over an apparatus on a small table in the centre of the room. We had to do a moonlight it from Warwick Lane due to a small miscalculation with the old Springheel Shaker here. It gave Clements quite a shockhe almost forgot to empty the safe. Julius was nauseous and dizzy, he looked around for somewhere to sit down but Clements nudged him closer to Springheel. Brass dials, handles and wheels protruded from all over the apparatus and a brass cylinder extended from one end, like the muzzle of a cannon. Did you sleep well? said Springheel, tinkering with one of the knobs. I thought it best you get an hour or twos rest before we begin. Sorry, I cant give you more time to recuperate but time is of the essence. Foreign forces are intent on stealing my invention. The left side of Juliuss head throbbed in time with his pulse. Your friend, Mr Flynn, was one of them, I am sorry to say. Foreign agitators in league with saboteurs, intent on overthrowing Her Royal Majesty, and her parliament. They are combing the streets of London this very moment in search of us, I have no doubt of it. We must be bold, if we are to save England from tyranny.
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I lost his hat, whispered Julius to himself as grief punched him in the stomach. Springheel stopped his tinkering and looked at Clements. The boys not himself, Springheel, said Clements, patting Juliuss shoulder. Hes probably had a hell of a time with those vile agitators. Yes, youre right, of course, Clements. How thoughtless of me. I say, run along, see what victuals you can muster up from the pantry, there must be something down there. I dont know about you but Im famished. Right ho, said Clements, and here, hold onto this, you might want a nip, he said, handing Julius the hip ask. When Clements was gone Julius saw a divan in one corner of the room. He sat on it and melted into its contours. Thats the ticket, Julius. Sit down, rest, have a drink if it helps, said Springheel. He was kneeling on one knee in front of Julius and looking into his dark-ringed eyes. Youve had a bit more than you can cope with, havent you, my boy? I know, I can see it in your eyes. You dont know what to think or what to do next, am I right? Julius unscrewed the ask and drank. Flynn tricked you, Julius. He made you trust him, but it was all to his own evil ends. We have the proof.
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Im sorry to have to be the one to tell you these things but Springheel took a sip from the ask and sat down beside Julius. Youre feeling pretty alone and confused right at this moment, arent you, Julius Caesar Higgins? I know, Ive been there too, you know. Oh yes, indeed. Julius stared at a knot in the oorboards between his feet. Ill tell you what, Julius. Shall I tell you my history? Maybe it will help you to understand me a little betterunderstand what Clements and I are about. What do you say? Julius let his head fall to the side. The contraption on the table reminded him of the squeeze box Mr Flynn had forgotten to buy. I dont think he really meant to buy it. Where shall I begin? said Springheel, springing to his feet. He tapped his chin while pacing the oor, like a leading man on the stage about to launch into his major soliloquy. I know, Ill begin with the strange visitor who changed the course of my life, what do you say, Julius? Julius did not reply. I would have been eight or nine I suppose. To tell the truth I dont really know how old I am now, not exactly. Anyway, an old man came into the forest
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and knocked on my parents cottage door. The mans name was Dr John Dee. He had a long grey beard, his long velvet cloak was of purple and black and had seen many better days. He told my ma and pa that he had need of a boy-of-all-works at Mortlake Manor and asked if they would sell him their eldest son, Charles, to take up the position. That was my name then, by the way, Charlies Vivien. Julius looked at Springheel. Charles Vivien? The professor was right, Higgins. I dont know how much they got for me but whatever it was it was gratefully received and soon drunk, no doubt. I was glad to be gone, Julius, glad to be rid of the forest and the hunger and the mind-numbing, soul-crushing boredom of the place. It was all trees and leaves, leaves and trees, nothing more. I followed the old man out of the forest and went to live with him at Mortlake Manor. It was huge cavernous house that desperately wanted to fall down but couldnt summon the energy, so it just slumped and groaned from time to time, more when the gales blew. A few old and dotty servants did their best to minister to the old wizards needs, for that is what he was, Julius, a wizard. In the winter the wind whipped through the corridors like phantoms from the North Pole, and in the summer insects swarmed indoors to get out of the sun and rattle the foundations with their incessant buzzing.
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But I adored Mortlake, Julius. I simply adored the vast empty rooms, the aroma of the ancient books that lay all over the place and the hundred and one contraptions the old wizard was constantly tinkering with but more of that later. Poor though the old fellow was, he gave me my rst pair of shoes and a suit of clothes. I ate three meals a day by the kitchen re and I had the run of the house and grounds. There were no other children for miles around but I didnt mind. My innumerable tasks kept me busy from dawn to dusk but my in-between times were spent sitting at Dr Dees feet, asking endless questions about everything I could think of. How does a huge oak tree fold into a tiny acorn? Why are butteries and owers beautiful but beetles and babies ugly? Where does the dark go when you light a candle? He would laugh and do his best to answer me, but most of the time he did not know the answers either. One day, Julius, when he grew tired of my questions he said: Enough, enough guttersnipe, I see I must teach you to read for yourself so that you can ask your questions of the books at Mortlake and leave me in peace. And so he did. The old wizard taught me to read. It was the greatest gift I have ever received, Julius, the greatest wonder. Soon I was devouring the books at Mortlake and neglecting the cleaning of boots and the sweeping of the yard. The old wizard did not notice or did not care, and the old servants were too
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frail to give me a beating worth mentioning, not that they could catch me. I began to talk to the old wizard about his experiments and his contraptions. He had no one else to discuss these things with so he discussed them with his boy-of-all-works. I was the luckiest lad in all England. One of his contraptions was a perpetual motion machine. Hed been rening its workings for sixty years, he told me. We sat for hours and hours as he showed me how to contrive numbers to come up with a way to make the machines wheels spin forever and ever. We would make calculations and change the dials and set it in motion with great excitement, and then check it in the morning only to nd it motionless once more. Never daunted though, we would set to re-contriving the numbers and resetting the dials and the cogs and wheels, we would and set it in motion again. Once it remained in motion for a month. That was a very exciting time. I sat for hours watching the wheels turning and turning and turning. But alas, the numbers still needed reningit slowed and came to a stop. The old wizard grew tired of it and spent more time with his books and other contraptions. But I continued the work. I was taken over by the project, Julius, I could not rest or eat or do any of the things a boy my age ought to be doing. Night and day I worked on the contraption. Until, one night, something very, very peculiar occurred.
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Scraps upon scraps of paper with calculations scribbled on them covered the table and the oor. The contraption had never been working better. It was oiled with the nest watch oil and it was humming like a choir of cherubs. This is it! I said to myself as I gazed, bewitched by the spinning wheels. But then, something unexpected happened. The wheels began to spin faster. I could not believe my eyes. I looked at the calculations, trying to nd the reason for this. What had I done to make this happen? Faster they went. Faster and faster, until they were a blur before my eyes. The machine lifted off the table, only a inch or so but it was denitely levitating. I gazed in wonderment. I had done this, somehow. The wheels spun faster, the lubricating oils began to hiss and smoke, the contraption shook and then Julius waited. Despite himself, he could feel his ears were almost quivering with anticipation. Shall I tell you what happened next, Julius? Julius nodded. The next part of the story I know you will nd too fantastical to believe. There was a ash from the contraption, like a bolt of lightning. Maybe the light temporarily blinded me, I am not sure, but everything went black and it was as if the oor vanished beneath me, for I felt myself to be tumbling through the air like an edgling from its nest. I dont know how long or how far I fell; it seemed as if it were many hours
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but I may have imagined it in my great fright. Thankfully the fall came to an end. I hit the hard ground and rolled over. My body was aching from the impact and I was as wet as a drowned trout. When I managed to open my eyes I found myself in the middle of a road in the pouring rain. And I was truly in terror. I scrambled to my feet but my head was spinning to such a degree that I promptly fell down again. I managed to scramble to shelter, and I huddled here, shivering until dawn. How can I describe my rst few hours to you, Julius? I have not the words to tell of the dread and the wonder I felt. The sky brightened as best it could to a dull grey, overcast day and I ran and ran, looking for Mortlake. But I could not nd it; there were only endless streets with buildings leaning over as if they were trying to fall onto the road. A stench led me to a river. I could see great buildings along its banks stretching up to the sky and vast ships whose masts were like a forest of swaying trees. Where am I? I cried out desperately to the rst person I saw. He walked by without saying a word. Where am I? I cried again. The stranger turned around and said. Dont play me for a fool, boy, lest you wants a cuff on the ead. They were the rst words I heard to welcome me to London. For that is where I was, Julius, London. If that were not a shock enough I had a greater shock a
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couple of days later. Id been living like a rat, hiding in the dark and stealing morsels of food while trying to decipher how I had fallen through the air from Mortlake to London and how I could possibly get back there againespecially as I did not know where Mortlake was. No, the greater shock was when I found out that the year was, in fact, 1817. Why would that be a surprise, you may ask? It shocked me to my bones, my dear Julius because, to the best of my knowledge, it ought to have been the year 1606. Juliuss ears pricked up. Cripes, Springheels a timetraveller too. I bet the professor didnt know that! I see youre surprised, Julius, said Springheel. You can imagine how I felt when I learned the truth. Somehow I had travelled more than two hundred years through time. How could it be possible? It must have been the perpetual motion machine. Somehow, in all my contriving, tinkering and adjusting I had turned it into some manner of a time machine. My rst thought was to build another one, travel back in time and tell Dr Dee what I had done. But, I had three obstacles to overcome, of course. I had to build the thing, adjust it to the correct contrivance to travel through time and then gure out how to travel back to the time and place I had left behind. And, in the meantime, I had to nd food and lodgings for myself. As I was even younger than you are now I was somewhat daunted by the task.
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I wandered the streets of London ruminating upon what I could do next. My belly was nagging at me and I looked like a vagabond from a circus in my doublet and pantaloons. As soon as I could, I swapped my clothes at a second-hand clothiers and set off to roam the streets in more tting beggars rags. I do not know how long I roamed, trying to eke out a living doing odd jobs and pilfering whatever came to hand. I was becoming thinner and dirtier and closer to the gallows every day. One day, while wandering the streets on the lookout for opportunities, I spied a young woman coming out of a bookshop. She was very prettythat is what caught my attention at rst. She had a parcel of books under her arm, tied up with string. I followed her, my intention being to snatch the books and be off as fast as my legs could carry me. But then I had a stroke of luck, Julius. The parcel was so appallingly tied up that it was coming loose as she walked. One of the smaller volumes fell out and bounced, unnoticed, on the pavement. In a second I had pounced upon it and disappeared into the crowd, I could get a few coppers for it at a second-hand book dealers. I sat down on the edge of a horse trough to examine my prize and to have a good read. It was called The Travellers Guide to the Italian Lakes. There, on the rst page, was an inscription, only just penned. It read:
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To my dearest Percy, For our travels. Your ever loving wife, Mary Suddenly, I had an idea. I almost fell back into the water with the sheer brilliance of it. I sprang up and sprinted through the crowd to nd the young lady again. My keen eyes soon found her as she could not move very fast in her crinolines. I followed at a discreet distance and watched her enter a small but respectable house in Ealing. I dodged behind a hedge, counted to twenty and then walked to the front door and knocked. The door was opened by a maid not much older than myself. She looked me up and down and I could tell by her expression that she was not very impressed by what she saw on the journey. Yes, she said, curtly. Begging your pardon, miss, I said with as much servility as I could muster. The lady dropped her book. Im returning it to her. Oh, I see, said the little minx and then snatched it from me and was about to close the door in my face. Cant have them going to the Italian lakes without their guidebook now can we? I said, placing my foot rmly on the threshold. What, she said.
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Just then, a young gentleman appeared at the door. Whats the trouble, Mabel? he said looking me up and down as well. Thiser, boy, found this book, Mr Shelley. E says Mrs Shelley dropped it on the way ome and e wants to return it so you wont get lost when you goes to them Italian lakes, she said, like a council for the prosecution. Oh, does he now? said the young gentleman, taking the book from her hand and looking at the spine. Tell me, my good fellow, how do you know about such things? I read the inscription inside the cover, sir, and I thought youd be needing the book if youre to tell one lake from another when you get to Italy. I could see that Mabel was scandalised at the free and easy way I spoke but Mr Shelley laughed. You are a ne fellow. Now, where did you learn the art of reading, pray tell? An old man taught me to read a very long time ago, sir, so Id stop asking him questions and look up the answers for myself. Mr Shelley laughed, and shed a coin from his waistcoat. Never stop asking questions, my boy, he said and then put the coin in my hand. Thank you for taking the trouble. Begging your pardon, sir, I said, handing back the money. But you see, sir, its not money Im wanting.
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No? No, sir. Its a position Im seeking. And so, Julius, to cut a long story short, I found myself in Italy with Mr and Mrs Percy Bysshe Shelley. We went rst to Rome, a splendid and decrepit city all in one, bad for the health but good for the mind and denitely a delight to the eye. Mr Shelley and his wife were from the artistic set, you see: forever talking about poetry and the rights of man and that sort of thing. They went to the Galleria Borgese to see the Titians and Raphaels, the Chiesa del Ges where the light of angels ooded the dome. Oh, the libraries and fountains, they visited them all, with me tagging along behind, carrying and fetching while they marvelled at the beauties of creation. I listened to everything. You see, I was determined to improve myself. For I had set myself a new task. I was going to become a gentleman. Gentlemen, I noticed, could command and compel those around them. That, my friend, was an art I needed to learn if I was ever to even begin to build a perpetual motion machine in this time. But then, Julius, I learned the real reason for our trip to Rome. Shelley had arranged a rendezvous with a man who was to become both my model for becoming a gentleman and the means of my changing the course of my life once more. The mans name was Lord Byron. Julius started. Lord Byron?
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I see youve heard of him, Julius, said Springheel. Yes, er, only in the newspapers. He was a splendid fellow, callous to one man and then incredibly kind to another, all within the blink of an eyea man both charming and terrifying at the same time. His face was handsome, open and gentle and yet, at the same time it was a mask concealing an innite mystery. To this day I cannot begin to fathom the depth of his qualities, his capacity for both good and evil. It was as if he had the souls of a hundred men locked within his heart. He was so much more than any one man could possibly be. His was a psyche too immense to be held in by one time or place, he was a man like no other. I adored him, Julius. I sought to cast myself in his mould. I listened at keyholes and strained my ears to hear their conversations while I served them wine and trufes. What did I learn through my eavesdropping? Springheel paused. What did you learn? said Julius, before he could stop himself. Springheel smiled. Byron was acting as a messenger for a secret Guild. His mission was to pass on a device to Shelley and to teach him the rudiments of its use. Shelley was then to travel to a remote, uncharted region, to the south of China, for further training in the device. The journey was to be overland, a hard and dangerous
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journey designed to test his mettle before the training began. The two men talked for hours and hours, endlessly into the night about the device and about The Guild. Byron would only hint at and speak in maddening generalities, but this I did gather, or imagine I gathered, from the scraps I overheard: there was a secret Guild, guardians of the planet, each member of this Guild had their own special device and they were positioned all over the globe, in major cities and places of inuence. They watched and waited, only acting when extraordinary forces threatened mankind. They were men of uncommon abilities, capable of outstanding feats of mind and body, they were ghters and thinkers, Julius. Warriors and philosophers. As you can imagine, I was in a fever of excitement. The perpetual motion machine was forgotten, I wanted to journey across continents andandI wanted to be a part of it, Julius. I wanted to fall at Shelleys feet and cry out. I know about The Guild, I know I shouldnt but I do. Beat me for my impertinence if you will but, I beg you, take me with you, take me with you. I had to bide my time, though. I wanted to be in on this little escapade, but one false move on my part could see me back on the streets of London, pilfering for a living. So, Julius, I watched and waited. I did my utmost to be agreeable to Mr Shelley and to impress him with my sharp wit and good sense, whenever the
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opportunity arose. I wanted to become his factotum, to be as indispensible as his own right hand, so that when the time came to depart he would bring me along without a second thought. Strange things began to happen as we continued to holiday in Italy. The rst thing I noticed was that Mr Shelley had a new watch on his watch chain. He was forever looking at it and tinkering with it when he thought no one was looking. Could this be the device that Lord Byron had given him? One day, as we walked through the streets of Naples, me and Mr Shelley, we stopped and stared aghast at what we saw before us. There, at the end of the street, was another Mr Shelley. He was in his nightgown and nightcap and appeared to be lost and confused. Mr Shelley, the Mr Shelley I was with, grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me into a doorway. He must not set eyes on me, Charles, or who knows what will happen? he said. Thankfully the trip was only for a few seconds. What trip, sir? I asked. A time-trip, my boy. I was experimenting last night. I suppose I should leave the watch alone until I get to Tibet, he said, more to himself than to me. But that was enough information for me, Julius the Guild had a time-travel machine, and it was the very watch in Mr Shelleys pocket. Julius gasped.
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Unbelievable, isnt it, Julius, said Springheel. Yes, said Julius. He turned away so that Springheel could not see his face. Cripes, its all true, Higgins. To tell you the honest truth, Julius, I felt at that very moment that I might snatch it and make my escape, such was my desire to possess the device. I would be able to travel back to Mortlake and present my nd to Dr Dee andandtime would be ours. We could go where we wished, do what we wished. Think of it, Julius. The Norman invasion, Roman legions in battle with savage Goths, and the future, Julius, the future. I have already travelled through two-hundred years and I have developed a taste for it. I want to see the advances men will make in the next two-hundred. We could be witnesses to the rise and fall of Mankindthe whole world would be at our feet. But I resolved to stick with my plan, Julius, to travel to the east with Mr Shelley to train with The Guild. I did not know how to operate the device and I knew there were many things I must learn before it could truly be mine. I bided my time. The Shelleys continued their tour of Italy. I think Percy wished to savour the ordinary pleasures of innocence along with his young wife before he joined The Guild. I followed wherever they went, pursuing my own plan. Then something occurred to throw everything into disarray.
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He paused. Julius waited while Springheel gathered his thoughts. Mr Shelley and I were sailing in his schooner, Ariel, off the Italian coast. A storm blew up unexpectedly. Truth be told, neither of us were proper seamen. We struggled to lower the sails and our little vessel was taking in water at a dangerous rate. Mr Shelley knew that we were doomed. Im sorry for getting you into this, Charles, he said, as he removed his pocketwatch from his waistcoat. The waves heaved around us and the rain pelted down. There is a way to escape this storm. That is, I think I may have a way. Do not be alarmed by whatever may happenall will be well. We will survive this storm, you and I, well will travel to Tibet and Just as he said this, a wave crashed into the side of the schooner and the craft tipped up like a teacup and tossed us into the brine. I only recall ying through the air and then splashing into the freezing sea. When I managed to come up for air Mr Shelley was nowhere to be seen. But then I realised that I was clutching something in my hand. It was the pocketwatch. Well, Julius, my escape from a watery grave is still a foggy nightmare. I swam all night, trying to keep my head above the waves, ghting for every breath. My will to live gave me the strength to carry on when I should have sunk below the waves. The next morning
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I woke up on a beach, barely alive, but I still had the pocketwatchthe cold had frozen my hand into a st as hard as granite around it. Springheel fell silent. He took the pocketwatch from his waistcoat pocket and unclipped it from the chain. He spun it in the air and left it there bobbing like a cork on water. Julius watched it spin. So there you have it, Julius. That is how I came to be in possession of this time-machine. I made it back to London, I will not tell you how. It involved more dark deeds than I care to remember. While trying to pawn a stolen handkerchief, I chanced upon our friend, Clements. He is a credulous fellow, God bless him. He believed me, he believed in me. We agreed to go into partnership, he and I. That was many years ago. In all that time I have been building a perpetual motion machine, while at the same time trying to nd out how to make this watch perform the task it was built for. One day I noticed a tiny inscription on the side of the watch. I cursed myself for not seeing it before, but it was so tiny that I forgave myself again soon enough. The inscription was a monogram, two simple letters. Do you know what they were, Julius? They were the letters J.H.. Could this be John Harrison, the inventor of the chronometer? The greatest watchmaker in history. Had he made this time-machine? I searched for clues, and they led me to the rumour that
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Harrison had kept a secret diary while he was toiled for nineteen years to build his third prototype, the H3. And so, Julius, that is when we rst met, is it not? I was enquiring of your grandfather if he knew of the diary, and the rest, as they say, is history. Springheel relaxed back into the sofa and let out a satised sigh. Julius watched the bobbing pocketwatch as he tried to contort his face into an expression of awed innocence. I have silenced you, Julius. An amazing story, is it not? Julius kept his eyes on the pocketwatch. Yesbut why did you tell it to me? The sound of footsteps came from the hallway. That will be Clements back with breakfast, said Springheel. He is a good fellow, isnt he? Even if hes not the shiniest penny in the vault. Clements burst into the room with three paper bags in his arms. Grubs, up, gentlemen. Sorry about the delay. There was nothing, absolutely nothing in the pantry so I went to the pie shop round the corner. These are fresh from the oven. Have you told him about our little business venture yet, Springheel, he said breathlessly, as he pulled up a chair and winked at Julius. Not yet, said Springheel. I was just getting to it.

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CH A PTER

~
14

Friday 7th July, 1837

6:04 AM

ulius wiped the gravy from his chin and dusted the pastry akes off his clothes. Springheel made the nal adjustments to his contraption and Clements snored on the divan. Julius walked slowly around the device and studied it in the candlelight. You are looking at thousands of hours of sweat and toil, Julius, said Springheel. I discovered the unique abilities of the Springheel Shaker purely by chance, you know. I was trying to make a perpetual motion machine but I seemed to have made some sort of device which opens doors to parallel worlds. Its all done by vibration, you see. I set the wheels to spin, butand this is the ingenious partI set its cog ratios slightly off balance so that it vibrates when it
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gets to extremely high speeds. Using this cone at the front I can project the oscillation to a point in space and thenwell, Ill show you in a minute. I know what is does. That odd fellow came into my bedroom, remember? Oh yes, sorry about that. Probably gave you a bit of a scare. Clements wet himself. I dont blame you for scarpering; Id have done the same. But I have been contriving and readjusting the ratios ever since so there should be no more phantasmic inconsistencies as I call them. The main problem is that if the machine is left running for too long the oscillation becomes unstable and everything in the immediate vicinity begins to shake, walls and all. We had to do a it from Warwick Lane because of that. I havent sorted out that little problem to my complete satisfaction yet. Springheel tossed his last bit of pastry crust into his mouth, screwed up the paper bag and threw it at Clementss head. Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Its time to venture forth once more. What? What? said Clements jumping to life like a startled and overfed hedgehog. Get the rope, Clements, and Ill explain our little plan to young Julius. Rope? Yes, Julius, we need to be able to keep in contact
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when you go through, you see. Julius watched Clements clambering over the divan to fetch a coil of rope and then looked at the door. Nows your chance, Higgins. Springheel threw a switch and the brass wheels on the contraption whirled. Look at this, Julius, said Springheel, beckoning to Julius as he unclipped one of the side panels and held a candle up close. Julius looked inside. There were thousands of cogs and wheels all interlocking and spinning at different speeds, some clockwise, some anticlockwise. Magnicent, isnt it? Julius stared inside. It certainly is, Higgins. Youve heard about the coal miners in Cornwall and such places, who use canaries in cages to test for dangerous gases? Well, Julius, my boy, we are going to use that principle, but not in search of dangerous gasesin search of riches beyond the dreams of Avarice. Springheel adjusted the brass cone at the end of the machine. We need someone to venture into this parallel world. I cant go in myself, of course, I need to man the machine. Clements steadfastly refuses to venture across the divide, snivelling coward that he is. We need someone brave, clever and reliable, someone who is in on the caper anyway. My dear Julius, youre our only hope. Youre in for a third of whatever we
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nd, you have my word on that. Simply nip in, take a quick look around and grab whatever looks valuable, interesting or unusual, well gure out what to do with it later. What do you say? Springheel gave the cone one last twist and the contraption and the table started to vibrate. Clements approached with the coil of rope in his hands. Look, Higgins, he said, pointing at the Springheel Shaker. It had lifted off the table and was hovering a few inches above its surface. How long? said Julius, with as much bravado as he could achieve. How long, Julius? How long will I be in there for? Two minutes, three at the most, I promise you, said Springheel. Ill be keeping the Springheel Shaker in line while Clements holds onto the end of the rope. If you want to be pulled out quick just give two tugs. If Clements wants you out quick hell give two tugs and then you come running back, understand? Before Julius could answer Clements tied the rope around Juliuss waist. Springheel gave the cone one last twist. A circle gradually formed in the air in front of the replace. Julius could still see the replace, but its image had become distorted; it was like looking through a heat haze on sweltering summer afternoon. Clements put a pillow case in Juliuss hand. Take this with you for the loot.
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Julius barely noticed the pillowcase as he was staring at the circle of heat haze. Hes just opened a bloody vortex, Higgins. The circle of haze darkened and a faint image appeared as if through a misted window. Julius stepped closer. He could barely make out what looked like black rooftops stretching away into the distance below a red sky. They resembled jagged, up-turned teeth. Julius shuddered, he did not relish going back to the Grackack realm. Unfortunately I have not contrived a way of aligning the portal to convenient entry points so you will have to make the best of it, Julius. Its early morning there too and you will be up among the rooftops, so no one will see you. Julius approached the vortex, his resolve rapidly dissolving. He could feel the vibration when he placed his hand against it. He pulled it back again with a jolt. The trick is to jump straight through, Julius. The vibration will rattle your bones if you linger too long at the threshold, said Springheel. Ready when you are. Julius held his face closer. His skin tingled and his teeth chattered as he looked around to see what he would be stepping into. A foot below was a at roof and as far as he could see there was no one around. Its a rooftop, for goodness sake. There wont be anything of value there.
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Well, you can look around cant you? Find a better place for the portal and well move the contraption for you to have another go at it. Another go? Now, now, Julius, faint heart never won fair maiden and all that, said Springheel, standing beside Julius and looking through the portal, as he called it. We are about to make the nd of the millennium. Why, Columbus oror Magellan would give their right arms to be in your shoes right nowon the threshold of wealth and fame andand dis Disgurement. I was going to say discoveryto go where no man has ever been, to see things that have never been seen. Think of it, Julius. Springheel stared at Julius, his eyes glistening with greed. Julius held his gaze for as long as he could while the Springheel Shaker hummed nearby. Julius looked at the oor. All right, Ill go, he said. Splendid. I knew you wouldnt let us down. But on one condition. And that is? I take Shelleys pocketwatch with me. Springheels hand instinctively covered his waistcoat pocket. What could you possibly want with that, Julius? Youll be in and out again before you know it.
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I knowits just thatit would be a mark of trust between usit would seal our agreement. You trust me to look after it for you and I trust you not to leave me on the other side if something goes wrong. Especially if you have the timepiece as insurance? Julius looked up. This time he held Springheels gaze. A strange type of trust in my book, Julius. Its the only type of trust I can give you. Springheels eyes narrowed. Julius stared blankly back, not wanting to give Springheel any expression to read. Very well. Julius breathed again, quietly. Youve got Shelleys pocketwatch, Higgins.

~
Julius leapt through the vortex into the Grackack London. He landed on the at, tarred rooftop and skidded along a layer of gravel. Overhead, red clouds stretched across the morning sky. In the distance, a row of zettmalins were tethered along the river. The rope tied around his waist tugged making him turn around. Clements faint but rotund form waved to him from the other side. Julius looked around the rooftop, fear quickening his breath. The air was unusually warm and humid
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on his skin. There was nothing to see, just a rooftop with a stairwell to one side. The stairwell doors blue paint was peeling and cracking. The rope was not long enough for him to reach the handle. He ran to the edge of the roof and looked down into the street, three storeys below. It was full of Grackacks and Grackack carriages which moved without horses to draw them. How long have I been here now? Ten, twenty, thirty seconds? His hands were beginning to shake uncontrollably. What if a gyroyer ew overhead? What if someone opened the door. Theres nothing here, Higgins. Its a blasted roof. What can you steal on a blasted roof ? Julius crouched low and looked around frantically. Windows from other buildings overlooked him. If a Grackack peered out he might be seen. This is ridiculous, Higgins. Springheel has no idea what hes doing. Julius searched for a building that looked like a bank or a jewellers shop where they could try next. Or maybe he could pretend that he found a place and in the time needed to set up the Springheel Shaker he could escape with the pocketwatch. How long have you been here now, Higgins? I must be a minute, at least. Julius turned to look at the vortex. He was about to sprint back and dive through it when, through the haze, he saw Springheel grappling with the device and Clements shouting something in his direction. He
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felt a tug on the rope. Somethings gone wrong, Higgins. Julius moved too quickly. His boot skidded on the gravel and he fell, scraping his knee. Pain shot through his body, making him cry out. In a second he was on his feet again, sprinting toward the rapidly contracting vortex. Noooooooo! he cried as he leapt toward it. The vortex shrunk to the size of a sovereign and vanished. The rope was severed. Julius landed back on the roof again and rolled over. Gravel sprayed out around him. The vortex was gone. He picked up the rope-end and watched the smoke rising from its blackened stump. It was night in the Grackack London. Julius sat against the door to the stairwell and rocked back and forth, his arms hugging his knees. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. He had not moved for hourshe was keeping his eyes on the spot where the vortex had disappeared, willing it to come back. Willing Springheel to x the vibration contraption and come to his rescue and cursing himself for jumping through it in the rst place. Some of the windows overlooking the roof glowed faintly with lamplight. Then, remembering Shelleys pocketwatch, he held it tight but did not dare make it glow. Occasionally a face appeared at one of the windows or a gure would walk past.

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~
Julius jolted awake and looked around. Where am I? It took only a second or two to remember. He had woken up in the very nightmare he had been dreaming. The watch was still in his hand. He pocketed it, staggered to his feet and untied the rope around his waist. The clouds had parted, revealing a blue sky. In the distance, gyroyers buzzed like giant insects. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Julius tried the door handle. It was locked. Bloody great, Higgins, just marvellous. He took out Shelleys pocketwatch again to see what time it was, not that it really mattered.

~
Night fell again. Julius looked over the edge of the roof. It was time to go down into the street. With hands weak and trembling from hunger, Julius put his plan into action; he tied one end of the rope to a loosely tted bracket holding a drainpipe. He tugged the rope to test it. It only needed to hold him until he got to the nearest windowsill. He looked over the edge to the street below. Despite the almost-full moon, he could not make out anything below. All well and good, Higgins. If you cant see them, they cant see you.

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Julius patted the watch in his pocket for the tenth time, then clutched the rope and lowered himself over the side. In his weakened state he would not be able to hold on for very long, a few seconds at the most. Just as he realised this the bracket sagged a fraction in the mortar holding it to the wall. Juliuss heart stopped. His legs dangled uselessly against the brickshe could not nd a toe hold and he was too frozen with terror to do anything. The bracket slipped again. Dust from the crumbling mortar fell into his eyes. His hands lost their grip and the rope slid through them burning the skin of his palms. He screamed in pain. And he fell. But somehow he managed to swing to the left and grab the drainpipe just as the bracket gave way and the rope, with the bracket tied to it, fell past him and clattered on the cobblestones below. Julius clung to the drainpipe, his cheek pressed hard against its sooty surface. His legs were wobbling so much that it was difcult to keep what little grip his feet had on the narrow windowsill. No, no, no. Dont let me die. He clung there trembling, too terried to cry and blinded by the mortar dust. Think, damn you, Higgins. Think. Julius took a deep breath and tried, with little success, to wipe his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket. In his minds eye he pictured the route down to the ground. He had studied it for hours while building up the courage to go over
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the top. There were two more windows between him and the ground. The drainpipe ran all the way down. Three brackets held it to the wall. Julius had planned to use these brackets as resting points, but that was before he had lost the rope, burned the skin off his hands, nearly blinded himself and realised he was too weak to hold himself anyway. Julius forced a deep breath into his lungs, and then another. His eyes were stinging now and the pain from his hands was making it almost impossible to hold on to the drainpipe even though his life depended on it. But with each breath Julius felt his courage increasing slightly. He was still terried but it was becoming a manageable terror. Its now or never, Higgins. Go. Juliuss feet skipped from the windowsill and clung to each side of the drainpipe. Gravity took over and he slid down until he came to the bracket just above the second window. He gripped it and came to a stop. The strength was seeping out of him faster than he could think. He relaxed his grip and slid down the drainpipe towards the next bracket. But all his strength was gone when his hands came to it and he fell. Time seemed to slow down. He waited for the impact with the cobblestones, but it did not come. The grounds not that far below; why havent you hit it yet? He even had time to be amazed that he was pondering such things while falling to his possible death
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or serious and painful injury. Maybe youre not going to hit the ground at all, Higgins? Maybe youll just keep falling forever? That would be nice. Then he hit the ground. Pain shot up from the soles of Juliuss feet, then his backside, then his hands, then his head. He rolled over, squirming and writhing. The tears forming in his eyes helped to wash out the mortar dust. Julius rolled his aching body into the wall. His head was pounding and his lungs and heart were trying to beat his ribs black and blue. The most difcult thing was to not scream out loud. The street was still empty. Voices came from the house behind him. He pushed himself up and limped and hopped along the pavement, looking for a dark alleyway to rest and recover. Then he would have to nd some food. Julius staggered into the rst alleyway he came to. In the almost-complete darkness he settled himself down behind some foul-smelling crates to get his breath back. Barking and high pitched howling cut through the night. His mind conjured images of the animals that might be emitting these cries and he wondered if any of them roamed freely along citys streets. Footstepssteel caps on the hard cobblesechoed off the sides of the alleyway. Julius pressed himself into the darkness, holding his still-throbbing hands across his chest. Black-clad gures passed by. They were talking quietly as they went. Julius recognised their Grackack
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accent. Oh, Higgins. What are you going to do? A wave of nausea rose up, and he held his breath to stie it. An airship rumbled across in the thin slice of sky above. Blinding lights hung from it like eyes peering down on the city. Julius pulled himself onto his aching feet and limped further into the alleyway, the humming of the airships engines masking his footsteps.

~
By the time dawn came, Julius had climbed into a small grey-walled backyard. It seemed the safest option at the time; he did not want to be out on the streets when the Grackacks emerged from their houses for the day. He searched for something edible among the rubbish strewn and piled up all around the yard. Hunger was stealing his sanity; he now knew how wolves felt after days of unsuccessful hunting. Sounds from inside the house stopped him in mid movement. He sniffed the air. Then, another soundhasty footsteps. Julius looked around, he saw a coal hole in the corner of the yarda bricked-off square with a slab of rotting wood for a lid and a hole where the coal owed out. As quick as a grass lizard, he ung himself at the coal hole. He tried to edge himself inside but there was too much coal in the way. More footsteps on oorboards came from the house. A key turning in a lock. Julius leapt up and in
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one action lifted the lid and jumped inside. A door opened with a creak and Grackack voices called out angrily. Julius held his breath. He crouched on top of the coal heap, the coal dust burning like acid into the raw skin on his palms. Footsteps came across the yard towards him. Julius tensed, waiting for the lid to be thrown open. Instead, a shovel was thrust into the coal spilling out of the hole. Julius braced himself as the shovel was removed, and he heard the clang of the coal being dropped into a tin bucket. The shovel was thrust in again, and the coal heap avalanched as the second load was removed, sending Julius tumbling to the bottom. Luckily the Grackack had what he, or she, needed and the footsteps returned to the house. The door slammed, leaving Julius wedged upside down at the base of the coal heap. Coal dust attacked his hands and lungs, and his stomach scrunched up like an angry st. Julius hid there all day. Horric dreams lled his mind whenever he collapsed into a tful sleep, reinterpreting the sounds around him and giving vent to his terried imagination. When night fell again, hunger, like a demon with a hot poker, drove Julius out of the coal hole. He shivered in the cold and looked up at the starry sky. He recognised the constellations. They have the same stars as we do, Higgins. Through the kitchen window Julius could see
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candlelight. The mufed murmur of conversation calmed him a little. He moved silently, like a cat, among the debris, stepping onto what looked like an old fruit crate and placing his ngers on the sill. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and pulled himself up to peep inside. In the faint, yellow light Julius could see a Grackack family sitting down to eat. The mother, he guessed, was stirring a pot on the small stove. Around the table was the father, a son and daughter and a baby in a highchair. They were the same as the previous Grackacks he had seen. Pale skin, red eyes and rows of sharp teeth and long, thin ngers. Julius imagined that they were in conversation, but now that he was closer, they sounded more like a pack of dogs in dispute. The mothers and daughters hair was inky black and parted down the middlethe mothers was tied in a bun and the daughters loose about her shoulders. The father and son each had a shock of black hair and the baby was bald but its teeth were already beginning to form and it was using them to good effect on the wooden spoon it was holding. When the Grackack mother hefted the pot onto the table Julius found himself drooling uncontrollably. Thick, lumpy soup was ladled out into the waiting bowls while the father cut the bread and handed the slices out to his eager family. Julius was becoming delirious with starvation as he watched the family
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eating, or rather slurping, splattering and belching their way through supper, too hungry to notice their appalling table manners. Then the crate he was standing on creaked. Julius held his breath. It creaked again. He could feel the wooden struts splitting beneath his feet. Oh, no. The struts gave way. Julius fell through them with a crash that was just a little too loud. The kitchen fell silent. Julius listened. Cripes. Bloody hellre. A chair scraped along the oorboards and someone called out. Julius stood still. His feet were trapped in the crate. A heated conversation erupted in the kitchen. Julius scrambled to get out of the crate but the splintered wood held him. He fell backwards as the kitchen door ew open. The Grackack father stood in the doorway with a poker in his hand. But his face turned from anger to surprise when he saw the blackened, goblin-like gure of Julius cowering in the middle of his yard with its feet stuck in a fruit crate. Oh, bloody hell, said Julius. Then he fainted.

~
Delicious aromas wafted into Juliuss nostrils and wild animals snarled and growled into his ears. In his dream he was sitting on the edge of a huge bowl
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of steaming soup. He was just about to dive in when someone poked him in the chest. Julius opened his eyes. Five astonished, Grackack faces stared at him in the dimly lit kitchen. The father Grackack still held the poker. The mother Grackack held the soup ladle cocked for action. The baby was smiling and waving its wooden spoon around while the two other children stared open-mouthed at the hobgoblin at their table. Unable to stop himself, Julius lunged for a slice of bread and tried to force the whole thing into his mouth at once. The Grackacks jumped back and started to argue among themselves. After swallowing a few chunks of the mouth-watering bread Julius spooned some soup into his mouth. His brain was beginning to function once more. What were the words for be calm, Higgins? Think. Think. The father Grackack gestured and growled at Julius who was still shovelling the soup into his mouth. Julius tried to smile graciously and grunt between mouthfuls, but this seemed to unnerve the Grackack family even more. Realising that they were probably more afraid of him than he was of them at that particular moment, Julius grasped his opportunity. He raised his arms above his head and roared as he got to his feet. The Grackack family retreated in one swift movement, except for the baby, who gurgled with delight and threw its spoon in the air. Julius grabbed what remained of the loaf of bread and ran down the
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hall for what he hoped was the front door. He collided with it in the darkness and fumbled for the handle. Pandemonium broke out in the kitchen. Julius opened the door and run outside just as the father and son charged down the hall with weapons raised. Outside, streetlamps hung from poles along the footpath, casting a ghostly orange-yellow glow on the cobbles. Desperately, Julius looked for an entrance to a dark alleyway. He legs were about to give way from the sudden exertion. The Grackacks were behind him and their shouts brought more Grackacks to their doors along the closely packed row of houses. In a matter of seconds the street was full of them, waving kitchen implements and shouting at Julius and at one another. Julius held on to the loaf of bread, which was now covered in coal dust. Chaar kaar grach, called out a Grackack, as he grabbed Juliuss collar. Naach a daak aarg, said another, who grabbed Juliuss wrist and waved what looked like a cheese grater in front of his face. Ka Cha. Ka Cha, shouted Julius, remembering at last the Grackack words for be calm, as he squirmed and wriggled and shook coal dust everywhere. Soon a sea of Grackack faces surrounded him, all scrutinising their captive. Then a couple of ofciallooking Grackacks parted the crowd and stared down at Julius. They were taller than the other Grackacks
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and wore tall black hats with narrow rims. Each had an emblem embroidered in gold thread on his left breast pocket. Julius studied the crest carefully as the two Grackacks leaned down to take a better look. It was an emblem of a claw with a scrawl below it, which Julius took to be Grackack writing. Seconds later, the two ofcial Grackacks were frogmarching Julius down the street. No one mentioned the bread so Julius held onto it and ate as the marched. They arrived at a large dark-stone building and Julius craned his neck to look up its black spires. They were like daggers sticking up into the night sky. He did his best to scramble up the steps and was pulled up in front of a high wooden desk where another ofciallooking Grackack sat. Julius looked at the claw carved into the wooden panel facing him as the Grackacks shouted and gesticulated at one another. The seated Grackack leaned forward and balanced his spectacles on his nose to better inspect the goblin. Gurh argh? said the Grackack. Julius Caesar Higgins, sir, replied Julius, assuming that the rst thing the authorities would want to know would be his name. Aaard hagg negh? Ironmonger Lane, Cheapside, sir. Higgins Booksellers, sir, he said assuming that the second thing would be his address, not that it would be much use to them, or him anymore.
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Juliuss replies did not seem to satisfy the Grackack, who did not write anything down. He appeared to be confused and angry at the same time, each emotion nourishing the other. Beeck arr drik aardh, he said to Juliuss captors. Julius guessed that the Grackack had said turn out his pockets because that is what they did, amid a cloud of coal dust. Out came the sovereigns, the two ve pound notes and Shelleys pocketwatch, which were slapped down on the desk high up beyond his line of sight. Julius could hear the Grackack examining the nds as he muttered to himself and then scribbled something with a very scratchy nib. At his word of command the other two lifted Julius up by the scruff of the neck so that he was now level with the desk top. The seated Grackack pushed Juliuss possessions to one side and spun a very large ledger around and pointed to an X he had just inscribed, then thrust a quill into Juliuss coal stained and trembling hand. Dwar aak? commanded the Grackack, stabbing the still moist X with his long pale nger. Julius did his best to inscribe his name in his best copperplate, to make a good impression, but his hand was trembling too much and the nib was too scratchy for the result to be of any credit to him. Sorry, sir, he said, as he tried to brush the coal dust from the ledger, but only making it worse. Julius looked at the pocketwatch lying innocently
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on the polished wood only an arms length away. It could have been in darkest Borneo for all the good it was to him now. The seated Grackack spun the ledger around and examined Juliuss signature through his spectacles. Ardrech arh gech? he said, as lines of frustration ploughed his face. Sorry, sir. You see, I cant write in Grackack you see. It says Master Julius Higgins, said Julius, as ingratiatingly as he could, before his captors let him go and he fell in a heap on the oor. Goor nech aa chraach, said the seated Grackack. Julius was manhandled down a deep stairway. Oh, blooming dead rats. What now? At the bottom was a long, dark corridor with damp walls and peeling paint in two tones of institutional brown. Small candles burned in alcoves along its length. Anguished cries and moans lingered in the air. Julius was marched into the darkness and thrown into a tiny cell containing a steel bed frame and a bucket.

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CH A PTER

~
15

Monday 10th July, 1837

5:42 AM

ulius woke up when a bolt was drawn and the cell door opened to the sound of grinding, unoiled hinges. His cell had been so dark he had to shade his eyes from the candle in the Grackacks hand. Cho graask, said the Grackack. Good morning, said Julius, as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Two other Grackacks came to the doorway and talked amongst themselves in whispers while Julius pulled his boots on. His body ached from sleeping on the mattressless bed. Djaak nagaash ghaa, said the Grackack, holding a large iron ring full of keys. His tone of voice told Julius he was being told to
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stand up, which he did. The next thing Julius knew he was being marched along a corridor. I hope it is morning, Higgins. That would mean you got a few hours kip. They came to a door. There was a brass plate with the same emblem of a claw on it. Without stopping to knock, Juliuss guards thrust him through it into a large stone clad chamber with a row of small, barred windows high along the opposite wall. The faint grey rays of daylight made him blink his eyes. The Grackack with the keys led him to a chair and sat him on it Neeg ach rach ah, said someone, commandingly. Julius lowered his arm from his eyes. A long table stood in the shadow under the row of windows. Behind the table, sitting on high-backed chairs, was a row of Grackacks wearing black robes and white, powdered wigs. As his eyes grew accustomed to the new lighting conditions Julius could see that they were hunched over sheets of paper. His sovereigns and ve pound notes were arranged in front of the magistrates and they were examining them with great interest. Occasionally a thought seemed to occur to one of them and he would scratch away with his quill, the sudden urry causing chalk dust to fall from his wig and land on his shoulders like malignant dandruff. Then animated discussion broke out among them, causing more chalk dust to be distributed across the
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table and about the room. Julius sat as unobtrusively as he could, trying not to sneeze. Julius nodded off and woke to the sound of a loud argument breaking out at the long table. Grash ak nech darh, one of the magistrates shouted at another. Julius immediately realised what causing the consternation. It was the pocketwatch still lying in full view on the table. The two arguing magistrates were almost coming to blows as they both reached for it. The only thing stopping them were other Grackacks standing between them making conciliatory sounds and gestures. The squabbling grew louder and more violent. The magistrates along the table were forming into factions. It looked as if a full scale battle was on the verge of erupting when the three guards waded into the fray with batons ying. The noise of the Grackacks yelling, mixed with the sound of batons knocking against heads, brought more Grackacks into the room. Julius clung to his chair as about twenty Grackacks engaged in full scale battle. None of them seemed to be able to keep track of whose side he was on so they punched, bit or scratched whoever came within range. Naaaagh aaaah graaack, bellowed someone at the doorway behind Julius. The volume and ferocity of the shout made Julius
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leap in fright. A very small and wizened Grackack shufed in holding what looked like a bishops crosier. Two guards marched along behind him, taking care not to step on the old Grackacks black robe trailing along the ground. Naaaagh aaaah graaack, he bellowed again, even louder this time. The mle stopped. The warring Grackacks stood frozen in mid-assault like a tableau of some ancient battle. They stared at the frail Grackack. Now that the old Grackack had their attention he spoke again, quieter this time but no less terrifying in tone. The warring Grackacks gradually resumed their seats and places like chastised schoolboys and hung their heads, waiting for the telling-off to wind down. When it nally did, the very thing that Julius did not want to happen, happened. The old Grackack looked at him. He shufed a little closer, his red eyes boring into Julius. The old Grackacks foul breath wafted over him like a cloud of poisonous vapour and a pale, thin nger tentatively poked his shoulder . Ngah baa danck, he said, studying Juliuss face. His head tilted to one side and he sniffed suspiciously. I hope he likes the smell of abject terror, Higgins, because thats what you stink of. Ist jagack na daak, said one of the jurists, sheepishly, holding up the pocketwatch. The old Grackack pulled himself away from Julius
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and shufed to the long table. Julius breathed again. The old Grackack picked up Shelleys pocketwatch and turned it in his long ngers. The room was silent. He picked up a sheaf of papers and held a page close to the end of his nose and ran it back and forth to read. One of the magistrates dgeted with his inkwell but stopped as soon as the old Grackack lifted an eyebrow to glare at him. The old Grackack then dropped the papers on the table, pocketed the watch and shufed towards the door. Grech aah nisch zeeg dekk? said one of the magistrates, meekly to the departing back. The old Grackack stopped and turned to face the table. Dach la, he said, then turned and exited, followed by his two guards. The row of magistrates looked at Julius. Cripes, Higgins, what did the old git say?

~
The Grackack with the keys marched Julius along more corridors and stairways, always going down, until he came to a chamber that smelled like a butchers shop on a hot day. In the centre, a steel contraption the size of double wardrobe, stood bolted to the agstones. The Grackack pushed Julius towards it. The machine was encrusted with a substance that looked like black treacle. When Julius got closer he
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realised what it was. Congealed blood, lots of it. The contraption was essentially a steel chair with a bloom of rods, gears and wires coming out from behind it. A Grackack inserted a large key into the back of the chair and began to wind it. As he toiled, various arms opened up in a halo around the chair. The sounds of gears grinding in protest mingled with the animated voice of the key-turner talking to himself as he worked. Julius stared in horror at the opening and extending arms, all with sharp, serrated edges. In their full extension they resembled huge legs of a giant spider that was climbing over the chair in search of prey. Juliuss guards held him tight and the key-turner stepped forward and smiled his rotten teeth at him, wringing his hands together gleefully. At last someones pleased to see you, Higgins. The key-turners voice resembled the grinding of the gears as he pointed to various parts of the contraption if he was giving a tour of the ner points of the chairs workings. Between barely suppressed chuckles the Grackack lovingly stroked the contraption and pressed his cheek against it. Then he held up his nger to indicate the pice de rsistance: a long brass lever at the back of the chair. Julius tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. The Grackack pulled the lever and the clockwork mechanism whirled into action. The cogs and wheels turned, which in turn caused
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the extended arms to vibrate back and forth violently. They closed in on the chair, sawing through the air as they went. The noise was deafening, the result nal. The pointed ends of the vibrating arms stabbed at the chair, leaving no doubt that anyone sitting there would be disemboweled and have his limbs severed. Juliuss legs gave way. The key-turner cackled while he turned the key to reset the chair. He laughed even more when Julius fought, pleaded and cried as the guards strapped him into the chair. Behind him he could hear the contraption winding up. The extended arms straining against the springs, eager to be at their gruesome work. The door that Julius was now facing ew open and the old Grackack shufed in. Julius realised in his terror that the old Grackacks parting words had been the order to execute him. Please, this is all a mistake, he called out to the old Grackack. I can explain everything, I promise. The old Grackack and the white-wigged ones, who entered after him, ignored Juliuss pleading cries. They probably hear this type of thing all the time in here, Higgins. The magistrates tossed their reams of paper onto a large table, throwing up a cloud of dust. Once the piles had been sorted out they then appeared to be searching for a missing document. Julius trembled all over, hoping that it would go on until he died of
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natural causes. Chalk dust ew as an argument ared upthe old Grackack nodded off to sleep in a chair. While this was happening another Grackack had entered unnoticed. He coughed to attract attention but went unheard in the hubbub. To Juliuss surprise the Grackack then bowed towards him and winked. Is that the professor? If youre the professor the old Grackack has Shelleys pocketwatch, called out Julius. Its in his pocket. I tricked Springheel into lending it to me when I came through the vortex. The Grackack approached Julius. He waved the guards aside as he drew closer. Julius swallowed. The Grackack wore a long black coat with a fur collar and a waistcoat of black patterned material which caught the dungeons torchlight, and glistened like a beetles carapace. The gold watch-chain stretching between the pockets of the Grackacks waistcoat caught Juliuss attention. He looked up into the Grackacks face. The Grackack tapped the side of his nose and winked almost imperceptivity. It is the professor. Just as the Grackack opened his mouth to speak the hubbub behind him ceased. He turned. The magistrates stared at him and one of their number nudged the old Grackack awake. The Grackack turned towards the magistrates and Julius recognised the jolly but regally commanding air
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with which he greeted the other Grackacks in their own language. You are the professor. Julius watched as the professor bowed to the old Grackack and introduced himself. He presented his calling card and a friendly discussion ensued between the two. The other magistrates resumed their search for the missing document. Julius guessed that the conversation turned to the pocketwatch because the old Grackack happily took it from his pocket and handed it over to the professor, who made a show of examining it expertly. He then handed it back to the old Grackack as if it was not of much importance and the discussion resumed until one of the magistrates found the errant piece of paper and held it up proudly. The key-turning Grackack started to dance. With horror, Julius realised that it was the execution warrant. The warrant was slid across the table towards the old Grackack who absently dipped a quill into an inkwell while still deep in conversation with the professor. Just as he was about to sign it something of the utmost importance appeared to occur to the professor. He straightened up and cried out something as his boney nger pointed to the ceiling. He then bowed towards the old Grackack and held out his hand, saying. Gnech ba? It seemed to Julius that the words meant May I? because the old Grackack obligingly placed the watch
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in the professors hand again. A hush fell over the dungeon. The professor walked toward Julius while he examined the Shelleys pocketwatch and spoke to the assembly in general. Then the professor placed it in his coat pocket and took out a small box. Julius held his breath. The professor stopped a few paces in front of him, opened the box and made a show of leaning forward to examine the prisoner. The key-turner leaned in too, pressing his face through the contraptions workings to get a better look. The professor smiled at him but the keyturners eyes narrowed suspiciously. Julius teeth clattered as his whole body trembled. He looked imploringly into the professors eyes. Please get me out of here, professor, whispered Julius, broking into tears. The professors eyes narrowed slightly as if in reply. He turned slightly away from the prying Grackack key-turner. His long ngers removed a small pair of nail scissors from the box and he returned it to his pocket, all the while lecturing the assembly. The keyturner groaned as he strained to press his face further into the contraption. Then, with the speed of a music hall conjurer, the professor snipped a single strand of hair from Juliuss head, took the watch out of his pocket and holding it carefully in his palm tapped a tiny drawer open, all under cover of his coat. Julius watched him cut a quarter of an inch off the strand
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of hair. It fell into the drawer, which the professor then closed and the watch was returned to his pocket. The key-turner said something, which sounded to Julius like a question. The professor smiled reassuringly and said something in reply. Whatever youre doing, do it fast, whispered Julius. The professor took the watch out again, this time in plain view, and stepped back from Julius as he made a show of ddling inexpertly with it. Suddenly the top and bottom of it ipped out and a pale green light shot out in all directions. Yes, well do a time-jump, called out Julius. The wheels sped up. The polyrhythm grew in volume. The professor appeared to be as surprised as everyone else. His ngers tapped the correct spots while appearing to fumble. He then spun it in the air towards Julius as he let out a cry of surprise. The watch hovered above Juliuss lap. Through the green light Julius saw the magistrates jump to their feet. Then everything fell silent. Julius plunged into a journey through time and space. Shelleys huge timepiece spun slowly as it hurtled through the eye of a galaxy which was spinning as fast as a carriage wheel at full gallop. Juliuss arms and legs ailed as he tumbled out of control in the watchs orbit. As the galaxy receded and they careened
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towards another, he tried to look around for the professor. Where are you, professor? Out of the corner of his eye Julius saw a comet shooting in his direction. He wrapped his arms around his head just in time. The comet struck the side of the timepiece and exploded into a billion pieces which ricocheted off the watchs spinning cogs and wheels. When Julius looked up again the timepiece continued to spin unscathed. Theres workmanship for you, Higgins.

~
Julius remembered to bend his knees but he collided painfully with the cobblestones, rolling over as skilfully as he could manage. In the next few seconds he had come to his senses and realised that Shelleys pocketwatch was hovering nearby in its closed position. Instinctively, he reached for it and, to his surprise, it ew to his hand. His ngers closed around and it went into his pocket quicker than a jellied eel down a Dockers throat. Professor. Professor, he called out, looking around. Hell be here in a moment, Higgins, dont worry. He must have used his own pocketwatch. Julius noticed his shoesthey were freshly polished. He checked his clothes. The time-jump had had a cleansing effect on his entire wardrobe. His
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stained and ragged clothes had been replaced by the very same outt minus the tears, grime and coal dust from the Grackack realm. It was very pleasant to be clean, pressed and freshly laundered once again, and his hands were completely healed and his stomach was not gnawing at him with hunger. He looked up at the buildings and smiled. Youre in London again, Higgins. Thank goodness, home safe and sound, home and dry. The familiar grey buildings of Cheapside towered over him welcomingly. The dawn chill bit at his skin. He breathed in deeply to imbibe the Thamess stench and then ran towards the nearest wall and crouched down against it to have a look up and down the street. Come on, professor, hurry up. Just then, a rumbling sound started and seemed to spread out all around him. It grew louder and louder until the wall behind him shook. Julius knew the sound, but for the moment he could not recall from where. Then, looking up at the sky, he remembered. The narrow street darkened as a zettmalin slowly drifted into view, blotting out the sky and rattling the buildings with its hum. It whipped up a wind strong enough to knock him over.

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CH A PTER

~
16

Tuesday 15th July, 1840

6:14 AM

ulius pressed himself against the shaking wall. When the airship was gone and its engine had faded to a distant hum he took a last look around for the professor then went out into the main street. He followed it for a while through a few twists and turns to get his bearings. At Church Yard, the wide thoroughfare encircling St Pauls Cathedral, he spun around 360 degrees. Not a soul in sight. White clouds streaked across wide open sky. He looked down Cannon Street, up at the dome of St Pauls. This is your London, Higgins. Im sure of it. It must be. Professor. Professor, he shouted. He ran to the main steps of the cathedral and up to the huge double doors. They were locked, he pushed
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at them anyway. What time do they open the doors, Higgins? He needed to ask some questions and the deacons at the cathedral seemed the best place to begin. Then, cursing himself for his stupidity, Julius took the watch out of his pocket. Half past six. Theyll not be open for a couple of hours yet. He ran back down the steps and looked up at the dome one more time, before running away in no particular direction. After going only a few yards Julius heard the sound of horses hooves and cartwheels on cobbles. He turned left and ran towards the sound. At Newgate Street crossroads he looked down Cheapside Street. Ironmonger Lane was only a few hundred yards away. Coming towards him from the direction of New Market Square was a horse and cart laden down with turnips. He could smell the county dirt they were nestling in. On the pavements women with threadbare shawls wrapped around their shoulders marched in their usual no-nonsense manner with wicker baskets under their arms. A waddling ock of geese, like visiting dignitaries, was been shepherded along by a woman with a stick. A costermonger pulled a handcart lled with offal out from a side street. Of course, Higginsthe market. Julius ran to the costermonger. It was only when he got to him Julius realised that he did not know what to ask. Good morning, he said, as he fell into step with the man, straining against the foul-smelling handcart.
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Mornin, squire, said the man. WhatI meanwhat I meant to saywhat I meant to ask rather was Wot you babbling on about, mate? said the costermonger, stopping to lift his cap and wipe his brow. He swatted away some ies buzzing around a cows heart. Julius took a deep breath to calm his nerves. On your way to New Market Square, then? he asked, as casually as he could. Aye, wot of it? The man replaced his cap and the cart heaved into motion again. Did you see the ying machine, a little while ago? Very big, it hummed andandit went overhead near the Thames. Na, didnt see nafng, mate, said the costermonger, although he did not seem surprised by the question. Oh, I seedid youumdid you hear it then, by any chance? Hear it? Na. Oh, said Julius, beginning to think he had imagined the whole thing. They walked in silence for a few paces before the man spoke again. Them bleeding things is always droning along up there, rattling me bleeding bones, blowing me goods off me cart into the street. People
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complain about the grit in the goods. Blame the blooming fart bags, I tell em. But thems not the worst, mate. Its them bleeding buzz-kites what gives me the bleeding irrits. Buzz-kites? Always buzzing around like a bleeding bee whats got nafng better to do wiv its time cept give me grief. By now they were approaching the entrance to the market. The costermonger heaved the cart to the left. Julius followed. SosoI meanthese buzz-kite thingswhat do they look like? The costermonger stopped and wiped his brow again. He studied Julius. By now they were amid the noise, the smells and confusion of New Market Square, stalls were being set up and goods delivered. Wot you say, mate? said the costermonger. What do they look like? said Julius, almost shouting to be heard. The costermonger jabbed a nger skyward. Like that, mate, he said. Julius looked up to see three gyroyers ying over the market in a V formation. As they came directly overhead the buzzing of their propellers drowned out the hubbub of the market. In a few seconds they were goneying off towards the Thames. Somethings very, very wrong, in the state of Denmark, Higgins.
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Whats going on, what are they doing here? said Julius, staring up at the now empty sky. When he got no reply he looked around for the costermonger who was pulling his cart away toward the pie shop. Julius felt dizzy. He looked around the market, searching for answers or clues, at the very least. Everything was the same. The market was the same, the people were the same, the smell was the same, the noise was the same. So what were Grackack ying machines doing in the sky? And why was no one else as confused and amazed as he was? Seconds later Julius found himself sprinting through the market, veering left and right to avoid all the carts, and stalls and people swirling around him like props from a nightmarish carnival show. He slipped on a rotting cabbage leaf and tore his trousers and the skin on his left knee. Squatting at a space between two stalls, he hugged his throbbing knee then used his handkerchief to stem the bleeding. The pain was excoriating but at helped Julius to focus his mind.

~
When Julius limped through the western exit of the market he had a blood-stained handkerchief wrapped around his left knee and his clothes were stained and smelling of overripe cabbages. Streaks of dirt crossed his face where he had tried to wipe off imaginary
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lth with his dirty hands before cleaning them on his jacket. Although he looked like one of the walking wounded from the battle of Hastings, Julius had a plan forming in his head and he was going in the right direction to execute it. The western exit led out into the middle of Warwick Lane. Julius turned left. He was going to begin his search at Clements pawnshop. It did not take long to get there but he was not prepared for what he saw when he did. Rather than a tatty pawnbrokers it was a pile of rubble. Julius stood and stared at it as if hoping that if he waited long enough the bricks and timber would magically rebuild themselves and he could go into the shop and give Clements a thrashing for leaving him to rot on the Grackack rooftop. The morning wore on as he starednothing moved among the debris. A little sunshine poked through rapidly forming clouds. Warwick Lane was becoming noisier as shoppers made their way to the market. Finally, he sighed and hobbled away. Julius limped on in a daze until he found himself at Black Horse Pond on Trundleys Lane. Tendrils of vapour rose from the ponds oily, black surface. A sulphurous stench icked at Juliuss nostrils and stung his eyes as a mufed, rhythmic boom and hiss buzzed at his ears. With no where else to go, Julius followed the sound like a child following the Pied Piper. It grew
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louder as he limped across the waste ground by the bank of the canal. At Deptford Lower Road he had to jump out of the way to avoid being run over by one of the Grackack horseless carriages. The carriage turned into a factory yard a little further along the road and the huge iron gates slammed shut. Through the gates Julius could hear and feel the boom-hiss, boom-hiss coming from the open factory doors. It sounded like the laboured breath of a dragon. Across the yard, he watched stooped, blackened gures coming and going carrying large iron rods on their shoulders. Oi, what you up to? barked a voice behind him. Julius jumped. He turned see a police constable with mutton chop sideburns glaring down at him. NothingI was just looking, sir. Well, if you looks much longer youll nd yourself on the other side of them gates, whether you wants to or not. What? Vagrants, vagabonds, beggars, orphans and the unemployed labouring classes may be compelled to take up gainful, though unpaid, employment, in any occupation deemed to be for the common good and prosperity of our glorious empire, said the constable as if he were reciting from a textbook. What? You heard. So hop it, before anyone sees you, said the constable a little more quietly, before walking
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off down the road, swinging his truncheon. Julius looked through the gates again and squinted his eyes to see through the wide factory doors. Sparks ew and metal clanged and crashed in the dark, steamy cavern as if the imagined dragon were pulling on its chains to be free. The stooped gures went in and out, heads down, disappearing into and reappearing from the darkness, never stopping or looking up from the ground. As he was backing away from the gate Julius noticed that he had attracted the attention of a Grackack in a long dark-blue factory coat. The Grackack stood beside one of the parked carriages with a clipboard in his hand. Julius continued to back away very slowly. When he was far enough back he looked up at the huge factory gates. The wrought iron had been twisted to form letters painted in gold. Julius gasped. The letters read: SPRINGHEELS SYSTEMATIC STEAM-CARRIAGE WORKS

~
Julius sprinted away as fast as his injured knee could carry him, desperately looking out for the professor as he ran. When he stopped to catch his breath, his knee throbbed and his stomach was feeling hollow again.
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He heard a newspaper boy calling his wares. The boy was too far away for Julius to make out what he was saying but at least he could nd out the date from the newspaper. If he did not fully understand where he was at least he would know when he was. Julius approached and read the headline on the placard. Bloody heavens above? he said. You got that right, said the newspaper boy. Julius stared, open-mouthed at the placard. The boy went back to his hawking. Read all about it! The Right Honourable Jack Springheel to open the Department of Grackack Cultural Affairs in the presence of er Majesty the Queen. Read all about it? Could you tell me? How longhow long have the Grackacks been in London? The newspaper boy whipped a newspaper from the pile under his arm and with an expert twist of his ngers folded it in two and presented it to Julius. Free years, Id say. Three years? said Julius, staring down at the paper in the boys hand. Yeah. The rst airship came fru the Westminster portal on July 22nd 1837 at twelve noon precisely. Its an istoric day, it is. SosoI meanwhy is Springheel opening the cultural whatsit? You buying the bleeding paper or what?
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Why is Springheel opening the cultural? said Julius and ended the sentence with a wave of his arms, trying to nd the words and keep his sanity at the same time. Who else would? said the boy, a little wearily. Es the Minister for Grackack Affairs so e does all that kind of ng, dont e. Oh, yes of course, said Julius, then wondered away in a daze. Oi! You forgot your paper, yelled the boy. Julius did not hear him. Ponce, said the boy. Julius did not hear that either. Springheels the Minister for Grackack Affairs? The Grackacks are wandering around London like they own the place. So we failed after all, Higgins? And what happened to the professor? The afternoon turned chilly as Julius wandered the streets. He decided to go home to Ironmonger Lane. Maybe he could make his peace with his grandfather and settle down to a life among the Grackacks. He did not walk very fast and it was not just his throbbing knee that was holding him back. His route took him past the end of Warwick Lane. On a whim, he took a turn to have one last look at the pile of rubble that had been his home for those few eventful days, at least it would delay the confrontation with his grandfather for a ten more minutes.
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Weeds were growing up through the debris. In another fty years this could be a picturesque mound of meadow grass and wild owers. Wrens could it around and a single robin would pose for young ladies to sketch in their notebooks while picnicking with earnest but bashful young men, Julius was thinking when a hard, little voice broke into his daydream like a hammer through cut-glass. Cost ya a duce if ya wanna watch the bricks, mista, it said. Julius looked down to see a small, stony-faced urchin standing there, his grubby hand stretched out waiting for payment. What? You eard. Clementss Famous Jiggering Jerryshop is one of the eight wonders of Cheapside and everyone wot looks at its got to pay, he said thrusting his hand into Julius ribs. I havent got any money. Well stop looking, then. To reduce the risk of further argument Julius obediently looked away and carried out a quick survey of the street to see if any other urchins were lurking. He could not see anywhich did not mean they were not there. . You wouldnt happen to know where Clements is, would you? said Julius. Might do, might not, said the urchin. If you aint got no money ow you going to nd out?
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Look, its important. I need to speak to him. Hell want to see me. He might give you a shilling for taking me to him. Might? I mean, he will. He denitely will. Will e? An ole shillin? said the urchin, with uncharacteristically gleeful innocence. Of course. The urchins enthusiasm collapsed when he realised one small problem with the whole plan. I dont know where the bleeder is though, do I? he said. Julius almost began to feel sorry for the boy, until he recalled his previous encounters with the Warwick Lane urchins. Oh, never mind, said Julius, as he turned away. Ere, ang on, mista. I can nd someone else for ya, fer a duce. I know everyone round ere. Its all right, dont worry about it, said Julius, limping towards Paternoster Road. It was time to make his peace with his grandfather and have a good long lie down. Nothing else mattered or made sense anymore. I know em all, I do. All the blodgers, and duffers round ere, anyone in the Family or the Fancy. I know em all, I do. Maggity Kate, Bill Sykes, Ratty McBlane, Danny Flynn, Ivan the Did you say, Danny Flynn? said Julius, spinning around.
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Ehno. No I didnt. Never eard of the geezer. But I thoughtso hes alive? Course e is, said the urchin incredulously. But then checked himself. I meanI dont know, do I? How would I bleedin know? Like I said, I dont know the geezer. The urchin walked away with as purposeful stride as his little legs would allow. Hang on, I need to speak to Mr Flynn, said Julius, limping to catch up with him. The urchin kept walking. Julius grabbed him by the back of his collar. Ere, stop that, mista. Ill ave the law on you for kidnapping. Theres a threepenny ne for that, you know, said the urchin, squirming under Juliuss grasp. Look, hold still, will you? Im not trying to kidnap you. Mr Flynn is a friend of mine, I promise you. Hell want to see me. Hell give you three shillings if you bring me to him. I promise. The urchin froze. Free shillings? Honest? Honest, said Julius, releasing his hold on the boy. The urchin turned to look at Julius suspiciously. Who are you? Julius Higgins. Julius iggins? Youre a liar. Es been dead these free years at least.
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Who told you I was dead? Mr Flynn.

~
Julius followed the urchin along labyrinthine lanes and side streets. His head was bursting with questions but was holding them in until he met Mr Flynn. The ducked into a doorway at the back of a crumbling building near the banks of the Thames. Julius followed him up the rickety stairs. At the door at the top he knocked four times and waited. Who is it? demanded a childs voice on the other side. Dodger. Julius heard bolts being drawn and locks unlocked. The door opened a fraction and a grubby, little face poked through the crack. Whos e? said the face, looking at Julius. That is the Julius iggins wot Mr Flynn told us about. I swear it on me life. What? Julius iggins? The door closed abruptly in their faces and an urgent, mufed conversation could be heard through the ancient wall. Thats put the peeler among the pickpockets, said Dodger, with a satised grin. The conversation continued for a while longer and then there was silence.
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Brace yourself, iggins, said Dodger. Youre gonna to meet Emily. Emily? Yeah, whatever you do, dont say nafng what might make er Just then, the door was ung open and there stood an extraordinarily pretty girl with an expression that would strike terror into a bullmastiff. Julius recognised her immediately as the leader of the Warwick Lane urchinsbut for one thing. She was older and taller than he remembered. She was as tall as him now, and she looked to be about fourteen years old. She glared at Julius. I remember you, said the girl, her face softening almost imperceptibly as she stepped into the corridor to take a closer look. You aint grown much, ave you? No, replied Julius, as it was all he could think of to say under her paralysing glare. Why aint you dead, then? Mr Flynn said you was, said Emily, disapprovingly. I dont really knowthat isI mean. Mr Flynn and I got separated andandwell, all sorts of things have happened andandI must speak with him. The professor rescued me and should be here now but he hasnt arrived. Maybe hes somewhere out there looking for me right now. The professor? said Emily. Now e is dead. I
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know that for denite. You ask Mr Flynn when e comes. Ell tell ya, said Emily, as she icked her head to one side to invite him in. Julius stared at her. Dead? As a door knob. Inside, Julius found himself in a large attic. Shafts of the remaining pale-grey daylight slid through gaps in the sloping roof and a gable window at the far wall let in a little more. As Juliuss eyes grew more accustomed to the dark interior he noticed a dozen or more children scattered around on makeshift chairs and cots. Many of them had books in their hands and were using the shafts of daylight as if they were reading lights. Sit down, said Emily, pointing to a large table in the centre covered in watch components and small pieces of brass cut into various shapes. Julius obediently sat at the table under the scrutiny of the children. Mr Flynnll be ere soon, said Emily, sitting at the table across from Julius and slowly lacing her ngers. Keeping her eyes rmly xed on Julius, she called out. arry, come ere. A boy of about the same age closed his book and came to the table. Julius recognised him as an older version of the boy Mr Flynn had spoken at Clementss shop, the boy who had shamefully admitted to voting for a girl to be the leader of their gang.
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This is arry. es ead of our Development and Research department, said Emily. Research and Development, actually, said Harry. Wot ever, said Emily Harry extending a friendly hand to Julius. Pleased to meet you, said Julius, shaking the boys hand. Harry sat beside Emily and placed his book on the table. By force of habit Julius read the spine. It was called A Guide to Advanced Mechanisms in Automaton Design and Manufacture. He was just about to ask Harry why he was reading such a book when he noticed something lying on the table amid the debris. Julius picked it up and held it by its short brass stem. At the top was what looked like a brass ower bud and attached to the bottom of the stem was a winding key. Wind it up and see what appens, said a voice behind him. Julius turned to see very little girl with a big smile. Off you go, Aggie, said Harry. e dont want to be disturbed by youre nonsense. Its not nonsense, arry. ave you xed it yet, she curtly replied. Its all xed. Now take it n run along, Wind it up, wind it up, she said to Julius eagerly. Gone on iggins, or shell be on at you all day, said Emily.
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Julius wound the key at the end of the stem and held it out. From within the ower bud a music box played Daisy, Daisy. As it played, the brass petals, made from sections of mainsprings, slowly opened and spread out to form a brass daisy. At the centre of the ower, amid the watch-pieces was a tiny balance wheel swinging back and forth, driven by the balance spring beneath it. Julius stared in amazement. The tinny music died down and the petal slowly closed. I made it all by myself, said the little girl named Aggie. With a lot of help from me, said Harry. Only wiv the difcult bits, she curtly replied. Before Julius could speak there were four loud knocks at the door. Thats Mr Flynns knock, said Harry. The children threw down their books, ran to the door and fought with one another to open it. Julius stayed at the table holding the clockwork daisy. As the door was being unlocked he rose out from his chair. Juliuss heart had never pounded in anticipation of meeting anybody. It did now. The children ung the door open and there stood Mr Flynn, his big shoulders and broad smile lling the doorway. The children cheered and crowded around as he stepped into the attic and removed his top hatit had a dent in its side.
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Hello, hello, hello, one and all. Time for some dinner. The most important meal of the day, he said, pulling a couple of strings of sausages from a paper bag under his arm. Julius watched, waiting to be seen. Mr Flynn looked over and his eyes opened wide, as if he were seeing a ghost. Julius, he said, under his breath as the children scattered with the sausages. Hello, Mr Flynn. Julius? Mr Flynn looked into Juliuss face as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall in to place. You havent agedyoure the same as the last time I saw you. Yes, Mr Flynn. I thought you were Jesus, youre alive. You found your hatgot a dent in it, I see. II thought Id lost it. You told me to look after it for you. Mr Flynns expression changed, like a dark cloud over a ne clear sky. He held the top hat in his hand, looking at the dent. That dents to remind me. Of what? That I let you down. That I told the professor Id look after youbut I didnt. You couldnt help it, Mr Flynn. Couldnt I? That was three years ago, Julius. What happened?
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Excuse me, Mr Flynn, said a small voice beside them. They looked down to see Dodger. Beggin your pardon, but iggins ere said youd give me three shilling if I brought im to you. Three shillings? said Mr Flynn, sucking in a breath. You drove a hard bargain there, Dodger. Well done, Thank you, Mr Flynn. Mr Flynn cast a questioning glance towards Emily who nodded her approval after a moments thought. Mr Flynn removed some coins from his waistcoat pocket and counted out three shillings into Dodgers palm. The boys body quivered with excitement as he pocketed the coins and than sprinted off to take his place near the frying sausages in the replace. Emily and Harry joined Julius and Mr Flynn. Emily plucked a strand of her long, dark-brown hair from her face and put it behind her almost perfectly circular ear. Nobody said anything for a while as the sausages sizzled and sent their aroma across the room. Weve all got lots of questions, I dare say, said Mr Flynn Ill say, said Emily. Like ow come es still a scrawny little runt? No offence, said Emily. How come youre still as ill-mannered as you were three years ago? said Julius, drawing courage from Mr Flynns presence. Emilys eyes narrowed, causing Juliuss throat to dry suddenly.
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Now, now, lets not be falling out, said Mr Flynn. Were all on the same side now. Its us against the Banshees and the clockmen. Who? said Julius. Banshees are what everyone calls the Grackacks here in London, on account of the way they look and the clockmen? I think well leave that for another time, youve enough to worry about without knowing about the likes of them.

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CH A PTER

~
17

Tuesday 15th July, 1840

10:20 PM

ack at Mr Flynns lodgings, Julius inspected the crumpet on the end of his toasting fork for burn marks before dropping it onto his plate, then he smothered it with butter and bit into it. Mr Flynn sipped his from a bone china cup and looked into the replace, the embers glowing and warming his lodging on the chilly summer evening. He and Julius had been talking for hours, each telling the other all their news. Mr Flynn told Julius about having woken up in the alleyway three years ago with a painful lump on his head and a dented top hat on the ground beside him. Julius Higgins seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth so he had feared the worst. The professor had not
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been seen or heard of for three years either. A couple of weeks after Juliuss disappearance the rst incursion of the Grackacks, or Banshees as the Londoners came to call them, had occurred. A hole opened in the sky above the Houses of Parliament and a giant zettmalin and a eet of gyroyers came through and ew to Buckingham Palace, where they landed on the grounds. Later, other portals, as the Londoners called them, opened in the sky and on the streets. A few hours of confused skirmishes followed during which the Grackacks showed off their superior weaponry and since then an uneasy truce had held. The newspapers printed what the Parliament and the Banshees wanted the people to know. The Times was bought by a consortium of Banshees and now spoke glowingly of business and cultural ventures between Grackacks and humans. Countries on the continent and the Americas were not happy with the turn of events. Their battleships dotted the channel ready for invasion should the need arise. And to cap it all, Jack Springheel was the Minister for Grackack Affairs the most powerful man in the British Empire. What about the other time-travellers, The Guild of Watchmakers? Cant they help? said Julius. Oh, theyve been here, young fella. Dont you worry about that. The only problem is that theres nothing they can do because no one knows where the professor is.
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Oh. Yes, were in a bigger pickle than weve ever been in before. We think the professor is alive and trapped in the Grackack realm. We cant do anything until we nd him. Why not? Well, remember the time is a tablecloth lecture? Lets just say that if the Watchmakers go back in time to just before Springheels rst contact with the Grackacks and stop it from happening, that would be nebut for one thing. And that is? We would be left with two actual timelines. Now, you have to remember that each timeline is not just our own human realm. Oh noit also includes all of its own parallel realms, alternate realms, between realms, synchronous realms, inter-dimensional realms, hyper-dimensio Are you making this up, Mr Flynn? I wish I was. Anywaythe incorrect timeline will not fade away because the time-traveller who created it is still in it. But, just a minute. If we stop the rst incursion then none of this will have ever happened. An obvious conclusion, but completely wrong, Julius. Yes, we get to live in a timeline that has not been altered because we stopped it before it happened. But, it already has happenedwe are in it
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right now are we not? So this altered timeline will go on. In the normal course of things, it would fade away and would exist only in potential, and would only become active, that is actual, again if a time-traveller visited it. But, because a time-traveller, thats the professor, is stuck here it will remain active alongside our own timeline. And what would happen then? After a short time, a matter of years, the two actual timelines would collide. There is not enough energy in the entire universe to contain two actual timelines owing simultaneously. My heads beginning to hurt, Mr Flynn. Dont worry, youll get the hang of it. Sothere would be two actual timelines instead of the usual one actual timeline an numerous potential timelines? Correct. And that would lead to time anomaliestime speeding up and slowing down, going into inconvenient loops. Then, as if thats not bad enough, the two timelines would merge, causing one massive explosion of energy, the likes of which this universe has not seen before. Wed all end up in oblivion, wherever that is. Julius stared into the re. His appetite was gone. Remember, Julius, this timeline here is the correct one. The original onethe trunk of the tree, as it were. This is the timeline the Guild of Watchmaker
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have vowed to protect, to keep it free from alternate realms, dimensional anomalies, time-paradoxes, timeslips, time-dist- All right, it get it. But what you told me about that Grackack who time-jumped you here has given me an idea. It has? Yes, I agree with you. It must have been the professor in the guise of a Grackack. So if thats true I might know where he is.

~
The next morning Julius and Mr Flynn strolled along the Thames towards Woolwich. Zettmalins were tethered along the river and the buzz-kites, as the Londoners called the gyroyers, patrolled overhead. Julius was surprised how quickly he got used to seeing Grackacks walking along the pavements and rattling by in steam-carriages. They like to come here to shop, explained Mr Flynn. When they arrived at Woolwich he pointed at a worn out man-of-war moored to the other bank. A 74-gun battleship in its day, but now, with masts sawn off and timbers blackened it looked like a wounded kraken waiting to die. Thats the Justitia, young fella, a prison hulk, said
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Mr Flynn. When you told me about your adventure in the execution chair and the professor coming to your rescue it reminded me of a rumour thats been going around London since the Grackacks have been here. Julius looked across the Thames. The green water undulated lazily, shimmering in the summer heat and exuding an overpowering stench. Waves lapped against the barnacled hull of the prison hulk, and then, as faintly as the rustling of grass, Julius heard the moans and cries of men, coming from the ship. Theres ve hundred men in there. All waiting to be transported to Australia. Why are you showing me this, Mr Flynn? Because, young fella, I think the professor might be among those poor souls. Julius spun around. How do you know? I dont know. But like I said, theres a rumour that theres a Grackack prisoner on board. I didnt pay much attention to it, there are so many wild rumours going around, until, that is, you told me about the professor. But I dont understand. Why would they not put him in their own prison? Why not execute him? Theyre not shy about slicing people up. I have a few ideas about that, young fella. All is not well in the Grackack world. The professor, if its him, would be huge embarrassment to the powers that
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be. On the other side of the portals, in the Grackack realm, their government is holding on to power by a thread. Foreign Grackacks are massing on their countrys borders wanting in on the riches of London, not to mention the dissent in their own ranks. So if it were known there was a Grackack traitor then? Opposing Grackack factions could argue that the government is not in complete control and use it to spark a takeover. And then wed have a civil war as well as an occupation on our hands. Precisely. But your news is good for the Guild of Watchmakers. If it is the professor in there then I want to rescue him. If hes been stuck in Grackack form for the last three years then the poor fella will need all the help he can get. What do you mean, Mr Flynn? Mr Flynn sniffed and looked down river. Being in Grackack form for a few hours is a strain in the Watchmakersits the Grackacks minds, theyre not pleasant places to be. Three years will have been hell. I dont even want to think about it. He turned and walked away. Julius noticed a strangely formed person crouched on the prow of the Justitia. When the person stood up and climbed back to the ship Julius stained his eyes to make sure they were not playing tricks on him.
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Mr Flynn, what was that? he said aghast. Mr Flynn stopped. Thats a clockman, young fella. Theyre your old friend, Springheels infernal invention. The Grackack manufacture them, if thats the right word, under licence to him. The clockmen guard the prison hulks, among other things. Well meet Christian Machine tonight at the boxing bout. Hes the leader of the clockmenhe does all the talking that needs to be done anyway. Ill ask him if there is a Grackack on board. What if he doesnt want to tell you? said Julius. Then hell probably kill me with a single punch, replied Mr Flynn.

~
Julius heard the clockmens footsteps before he saw them. He swallowed hard and stepped closer to Mr Flynn. The hubbub around him quietened to a whisper as the clockmen clunked down the stairs. Julius and thirty bare-knuckle boxers and sporting swells were crammed into a cellar under the Kings Arms in Lambeth. They listened to the sound of clanging footsteps, metal and stone in grinding conict. Through a fog of cigar smoke Julius saw the rst clockman enter and slowly look around. The whispering ceased. Another clockman entered and then another. The three automatons surveyed the silent
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crowd, only the ticking and whirring of their internal mechanisms made any sound. Each clockman wore an ill-lling suit of dark, coarse material cut too short at the ankles and wrists. Instead of shoes they had brass feet with three splaying toes, resembling a birds foot. The hands were large in proportion to their bodies, nely crafted to be precise but strong, with brass joints and wooden ngers. The clockmen were hatless. Their heads stretched forwards on necks made of brass rods, hinged in several places for a range of movements. Small circles of wire mesh were where the mouth and ears should be, with no attempt to recreate a nose beyond a small ridge of polished brass. Julius was not close enough to see any eyes. From his vantage point he could only make out two shallow, brass cylinders like the ends of telescopes, dark but for the lamplight reecting in their lenses. Mr Flynn was rst to break the silence. He stepped forward and held out his hand to the clockman. Welcome, Christian Machine. So glad you could come. The Fancy are honoured by your presence. Youre among true friends here. The clockman named Christian Machine slowly lowered its head to look at Mr Flynns outstretched hand and then tilted it up to look into his face. After a moments hesitation the automaton extended its arm and they shook handstwo rm shakes, a concord
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sealed. The tension in the air lifted and the rumble of voices erupted. Cigars, too long unattended to, were drawn deep, hip asks and ale pots put to good use once again. Julius, where are you? said Mr Flynn, letting go of the automatons hand and looking through the crowd. Come and meet our friend. Julius walked as slowly as he could through the press of bodies, feeling smaller and smaller the closer he got to Christian Machine. Julius, Id like you to meet Christian Machine. The nest clockman pugilist in London. Christian Machine, Id like to present Julius Higgins. A ne young fella by any standards. Julius held out his thin, pale hand. The clockman leaned closer to get a clearer view through his telescope eyes; his internal mechanism whirred, clicked and ticked with each movement. Julius felt the cold brass hand enclose his own. His body stiffened, anticipating his hand being crushed. But it was not fear that made him recoil when he looked closely into the automatons face, it was something else. Deep within the telescopes casings he saw two eyeballs staring out at him. He felt Mr Flynns reassuring hand on his shoulder and it helped him to hold his fright in check. The eyes appeared to be oating in a liquid, two spheres devoid of the capacity to express emotion or thought.
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How do you do, sir? said Julius, as best he could. There was a chasm of silence as the automaton studied Julius with lifeless eyes. Im well, thank you, said the clockman. The sound of the growling voice through the circle of brass mesh made Julius jump. It came from deep inside the automaton like ball bearings on a drum skin resonating to assemble words. The brief speech appeared to take its toll on the clockman, who continued to hold Juliuss hand. Julius was reminded of an elderly uncle, who had had an apoplexy and had to struggle to form words through a mouth which no longer cared for the task. Im glad to hear it, sir, said Julius, after a pause, trying to smile kindly and giving the hand another shake. This time the clockman merely nodded his assent. He was about to release Juliuss hand when he saw something sticking out of the boys button hole. It was Aggies brass daisy. Christian Machines dead eyes stared at it, not moving. Julius could hear the mechanisms ticking and whirring inside the clockmans body. Aggie had insisted that Julius borrow the ower for a couple of days and he had agreed, just to keep her quiet. Now he regretted it. The clockmans mechanical hand still encased Juliuss tender hand. He tensed, expecting it to be crushed for causing an offence of some kind. He
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cast a pleading glance up at Mr Flynn in the awkward silence. Mr Flynn broke the spell by slapping them both on the back. Come now fellas, the rst bout is about to begin. Weve made a place for you and your friends to watch. Follow me, if you please, he said. The clockmans internal mechanism whirred louder as he released his grip on Juliuss hand. Julius breathed again. Christian Machine and his two companions followed Mr Flynn to the edge of the boxing square. Their stooping, precise gait reminded Julius of the wading birds on the mud banks of the Thames knees bent and stepping carefully, their bodies inclined forward, hands held in front as if about to pick something up. Their heads constantly moved back and forth and up and down, taking in their surroundings. He also noticed that each clockman had a small brass plate screwed onto the side of his head. On Christian Machines it read CHRISTIAN MACHINE 1839. On the next, it read WAR MACHINE 1839, and on the last, it read BRASS NIMROD 1840.

~
The rst bout of the night was between two young humans. Their inexperience and stage fright made their movements awkward and rash. Still, the crowd
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cheered them on, impressed by their nave bravado. The clockmen appeared to be enjoying the ght as their heads snapped back and forth, following the action and their ngers moved in time with the battling young men, as if playing an invisible musical instrument. At the end of the contest, bloodied and bruised, victor and vanquished embraced, receiving pats on the back from the crowd as well as a purse of coins for their trouble. And now, gentlemen, announced Mr Flynn, standing in centre of the boxing square. The rst mechanical verses human boxing bout of the evening will be between the esteemed clockman, Brass Nimrod, and our very own, and all too human, Stan the Stone Atkins, all the way from Blackpool. A cheer went up, as Brass Nimrod stepped forward into the square, where two ofcials strapped padded leather gloves on to his hands. Theyre to stop the human boxers from getting killed by the rst blow, said Mr Flynn into Juliuss ear. At the other end of the square Stan Atkins was having a billycock hat made of iron placed on his head and strapped tightly under his chin. Then a loop of iron was pulled down from the hat, by a hinge, to protect his jaw. That done, the ofcials strapped a corset made of thin metal struts around his ribs. Brass knuckle dusters were slipped on the four ngers of each hand. He could grip them to deliver a punch
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but also open his hands to grapple with his opponent if required. In any other circumstance, Julius thought, Mr Atkins would have looked very comical. We use the new Queensbury Rules, young fella, said Mr Flynn. We give the human boxer added protection and a brass knuckle advantage and we hobble the clockman with padded gloves. It makes the bout a bit more even. The aim is for the clockman to knock the man out, or for the man to topple the clockman or at least to make him touch the ground with a hand or knee. Do men win many bouts, Mr Flynn? None so far. The match umpire called the opponents together and they faced one another with sts ready. The umpire dropped his handkerchief and ducked out of the square as the clockman delivered a lightning-fast punch to Stans jaw. A roar went up as Stan reeled back into the arms of the crowd. They did not throw him back into the ght like they would at a fairground mill; instead, they supported him while he re-gathered his senses. Brass Nimrod waited. After a few seconds Stan pulled himself to his feet and shook his head to re-settle his brain into place. He ducked his head down behind his brass knuckles and with graceful footwork he glided to Brass Nimrods left side. Before the automaton could turn, Stan landed one of his hobnail boots into the back of Brass Nimrods knee,
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preventing him momentarily from taking a step. Then Stan swung his right hand, delivering a brass knuckle blow to the back of the automatons head, then a left. The crowd was in a frenzy. Disorientated, Brass Nimrod, lifted his left elbow and crunched it into Stans billycock hat, knocking him to the ground. The bout carried on through three more rounds, until Stan Atkins was knocked out by a jaw-shattering upper cut. The crowd cheered as he was dragged to one side to have brandy forced between his bloodied lips. Money changed hands in accordance with wagers, and the bout was dissected blow for blow between lords and footmen, costermongers and soldiers. Julius watched Christian Machine from across the square. Brass Nimrod returned to his two companions who held the automatons hands and appeared to speak a word or two of congratulation. Well ask him at the end of the night, whispered Mr Flynn into Juliuss ear. As Julius watched, Christian Machine tilted his head to look at him. Julius stiffened. I dont think we should risk it, said Julius. You saw what Brass Nimrod did to Stan Atkins. I dont see what choice we have. Ill ask him in a round about way. Ill pretend Im had a bet with a friend about a Grackack being on the Justitia. Its still too risky. Do you have any better ideas then, Julius?
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Yes. Well do the Tyburn Twistits as old book dealers trick. How does that work then? Easy, said Julius. Its a way of nding out a secret by telling the person who wants to keep it a secret that you already know it.

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CH A PTER

~
18

Thursday 17th July, 1840

3:00 AM

utside the Kings Arms, the swells and soldiers, boxers and costermen weaved and stumbled through the surrounding streets, patting one another on their back and waking the neighbours with their raucous singing. That was a ne nights sport. Thanks to you and your friends, Mr Machine, said Mr Flynn as he shook the automatons hand at the door. It was time to try the Tyburn Twist. The two other clockmen were already slowly walking away. Lamplight from the tavern reected off the rim of the telescope ends encasing Christian Machines eyes. Julius could just see the eye balls oating in the darkness within. They were looking at
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the Aggies brass daisy in his lapel. I see youre admiring Juliuss buttonhole again, said Mr Flynn. Yes, replied Christian Machine, after a pause to prepare to speak. You can look closer, if you wish, said Julius. He pulled the brass ower from his lapel and offered it to the automaton. With surprising dexterity, Christian Machine held it between his thumb and forenger and lifted it higher to catch the light. Mr Flynn glanced at Julius. Julius cast a wait signal back. Ill wind it for you, sir, he said, gesturing towards the key at the end of the stem. The clockman looked at the key, then at Julius, and after a pause he nodded. Julius wound the key and stood back. The music began. The petals opened and the clockman tilted his head a little to one side. When the music ended he continued to stare at it in the silence. Eryou can have it if you like, sir, said Julius. The clockman turned to look at his companions walking into the night. It was a furtive, almost boyish gesture. Then, he looked back, his face pointed directly at Juliuss; his eyes looking straight at him. Julius swallowed but tried to maintain a carefree countenance. The clockmans inner workings whirred. He nodded. Julius breathed again.
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Oh, by the way, said Mr Flynn. I had a bet with a fella tonight about that rumour about the Grackack prisoner youre guarding. Hes bound for Australia on the very next convict ship, the fella said. I was wondering-. He is going, Mr Flynn, interjected Julius. Heard it from someone in the Admiralty who was here too. Its a secret thoughyoure not supposed to talk about. Oh, indeed. Thank you for telling me, Julius, said Mr Flynn, putting a nger to his lips. Then he turned to Christian Machine. Im sorry to have bothered you in that case. The gears in the clockmans neck joints whirred as he turned his face to look at Mr Flynn. Juliuss legs began to tremble, Mr Flynn remained the picture of innocence and calm. Well, good night to you, sir, said Mr Flynn after a pause. Christian Machine remained still. Julius began to count in his head. Was it the clockmans normal pause before speaking, or had he realised that he had just been duped by the Tyburn Twist? Good night, said the clockman at last. He turned his head to nod good bye to Julius and then followed his companions down the street. Mr Flynn let out a long, slow breath. Well done, Julius, he whispered.
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Works every time, Mr Flynnaccidently let someone know that you know something secret that they also know. If what you say is correct they will not deny it, because denials are too latetheir silence is all the conrmation you need. If you are wrong, the person will say so because there is no risk of giving anything away. If there are no Grackacks on the prison hulk and no Grackacks sailing to Australia they would just say so. The next ship to the convict colony in Port Jackson is the Bountiful. It sails in three weeks, said Mr Flynn. Well have to rescue the professor before it sails? The Justitia is like a fortress and the clockmen will kill anyone who comes near it. But the professor will be out of our reach forever if we miss our chance. They walked home in silence while Julius thought. Julius Caesar would have known what to do, he said after a while. The real Julius Caesar, I mean. Mr Flynn stoped and looked down at Julius. You dont say. Yes, Mr Flynn. Many times he snatched victory from the jaws of certain defeat. He always found a way to win the day. He could think up ideas that no one else would even imagine in a thousand years. For instance? said Mr Flynn, starting to walk again. Well, let me see, said Julius, quickening his pace to catch up. There was one occasion in the war against
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Pompeys army. He was outnumbered and bound to loose by all the rules of military strategy. There was no way out, no way in the world. But he found one? Yes, it was so ingenious, so ridiculous, soso brilliant. What did he do? said Mr Flynn, becoming interested. He knew his enemy. He knew them very, very well. He knew that there were many raw young ofcers from high-ranking families in Pompeys army. They were there for easy victories, out to get a name for themselves in battle. Caesar knew that these young men were vain, untested in battle and ill-disciplined. So do you know what he did, Mr Flynn? No, indeed I dont. But Im willing to nd out. He ordered his legionaries on the ank opposite the ofcers to lunge their lances towards their faces when they came galloping into battle. Sure, what good would that do? These were vain young men, remember. But it gets even better. You see these young men charged in ahead of Pompeys legionaries. When they charged in on their horses they were met with the foot soldiers poking sharp lances up into their faces. The young ofcers were terried of getting scars on their faces and because of their inexperience could not think of a way to deal with the unorthodox ghting style. They
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turned tail and galloped back to their own ranks to complain to Pompey about Caesars army not ghting fair. And?What happened then? Well, the young ofcers got in the way of Pompeys advancing troops and caused mayhem in the ranks. The real troops could not advance and seeing the ofcers retreating they thought they were about to be routed and they turned tail and ran too. After that the Caesar had the battle all but won. And all because of a few vain young men. Yes, Caesar saw a weakness that no one else could see and he used it. All it took was one small thing. Hmm, said Mr Flynn. So what we need is to nd that one small thing that no one else can see and then to nd a way to take advantage of that weakness. Precisely. Do you have any ideas, young fella? Juliuss head was swimming. I think I do, Mr Flynn. I think I do. Go on. Christian Machine had human eyes. He looked at mehe spoke to mehow can a machine do that? Hes not a machine. Not in the way you mean. What is he then? Im not sure theres a word for what the clockmen are, Julius, apart from an abomination. They have the
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brains of executed prisoners inside those brass heads of theirs. Julius stopped. Theyre machines driven by dead brainsseeing with dead eyes, Julius. Soare they alive in some way? Are they human? I pity them if they are alive and, as for being human, I doubt it. But he liked the Aggies ower. Yeshe did. Which gives me an idea, Mr Flynn. Oh yes? Do you think we could we toss a coin to decide who tells Aggie that I gave her ower away, Mr Flynn?

~
The next evening Mr Flynn and Julius made their way to Woolwich again but this time they walked along the southern bank. The full moon was shining through a gap in the clouds. Waves lapped gently, a background rhythm to the moans and groans of the timbers and rigging of the ships moored along the dock. Distant ships bells sounded from time to time to mark the loneliness of the night. The docks and surrounding streets were empty but for the occasional constable on his rounds. Julius and Mr Flynn ducked into a doorway close
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to the position where the Justitia was moored offshore. Julius could hear, but not see, the clockmens brass feet clanging and scraping along as they made their rounds on the deck and pier. Mr Flynn pulled a telescope from his coat and snapped it open. He scanned the prison hulk through the eyepiece. Theres precious little to see, young fella. They have machine cannons mounted fore and aft, though, I can see that much, he whispered. He handed the telescope to Julius who inexpertly squinted into it. When he managed to home in on a clockman all he could see was a set of movements and reections in the moonlight. Look up there, whispered Mr Flynn, as he nudged Julius and pointed to the gurehead. Julius repositioned the telescope and peered through it. He would have missed it but for Mr Flynns keen eyes. Crouching down on the gurehead was a clockman looking out across the Thames. He seemed to be mesmerised by the rivers surface. Thats Christian Machine, young fella, Id wager a guinea on it. How can you tell? Theyre all slightly different. After a while you get to recognise them without having to read the name plates screwed to their heads. For a start theyre all constructed slightly differently but as well as that theres a difference in their posture, the way they
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walk, the things they do. The things they do? Yes, the things they do. Christian Machine, now, hes one for looking and thinking. Hes our man. If we can get him on our side the others will follow. Julius and Mr Flynn silently watched Christian Machine watching the river. Julius took his eye from the telescope and looked up into the dark shadow of Mr Flynns face. Mr Flynn took the telescope, collapsed it and returned it to his pocket. I feel pity for the clockmen, Julius. Does that surprise you? he said after a time. Nothat is, I feel the same, now that you mention it. But Im not sure why. They were men once, like I said. They were criminals, murderers, the worst of the worst. Condemned to be hanged and then to have their brains and eyes taken out and put into those contraptions. But why? What would be the point ofof? Of creating those monsters? Yes. They obey without question, you see. They kill without a thought, they feel no hunger or cold, no remorse, they dont tire, they fear no one but their makers. They are the perfect weapon, the perfect soldier. Thats ghastly. Yes, it isfor the poor souls trapped inside those
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machines and for us who are at their mercy. Springheels factory is making them as fast as they can execute the criminals. In a few years therell be an army of the abominations. The Grackacks will use them to control the country and then, who knowsthe world? Christian Machine stood up to full height and climbed back down from the gurehead. Have you seen enough, young fella? Yes, Mr Flynn, I think so. And now? And now we talk to Harry. We need an expert on automatons if we are to use our lances against them.

~
Mr Flynn knocked four times on the attic door. Outside church bells and cathedral bells were ringing out across London. Aggies grubby little face poked out of an opening in the door and smiled. Mr Flynn! Hello there, Aggie, may we come in? he said, indicating toward Julius. Yeah, sure ng. Julius was surprised to nd the attic all but deserted when they entered. Emily was sitting reading at the table in the centre. Aggie ran and climbed up on a chair to sit beside her. Harry was pacing up and down
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with a book in his hand. Where is everyone? said Julius. Theyre out thieving, aint they? Its Sunday after all, said Emily incredulously. Its the pious crowds going to church and for a Sunday stroll in the park, young fella, said Mr Flynn. They offer many opportunities for the conscientious dipper. Oh, I see. Its only a temporary measure, as you might say, Mr iggins, said Emily putting on the airs of a lady. Until our dividends comes through from our hestates in the Bee-harmas, dont ya know. Aggie giggled and Julius reddened. Harry, said Julius, trying to sound commanding. Mr Flynn tells me youre an expert in making anything clockwork. Harrys eyes lit up. I sure am. That is, when we nicked all the books and clocks from Springheels lodgings we decided not to sell them but to do something useful with them. We had a vote on it, said Emily, standing up and stepping closer to Julius. We put them to good use, we did. arry can read, see. His old man was a clerk in the bank, til he died wiv his lungs. Yes, Harrys a ne young fella, and no mistake, said Mr Flynn, patting Harry on the shoulder and taking the book from his hand. A Guide to the Design
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and Construction of Automatons, he read from the spine. I taught them all to read, using Springheels books, said Harry, glowing with pride. Well, it wasnt long before we started tinkering with the clocks and what-not. Before you knew it, we started making toys. Aggies daisy is nothing compared to some of the stuff weve made. Oi, said Aggie. Well, its not, said Harry. Oh, that reminds me, Aggie. I er-. John arrison imself would ave been proud of us, interjected Harry. You know about Harrison? said Julius. Course I do. The greatest watchmaker in istory. Ive got is very own personal diary, I ave. Werf more than a stack of gold n diamonds. Youve got Harrisons diary? But how? I nicked it from Springheels desk just before the ole building came down. We was clearing out everything what wasnt nailed down, and some wot was, and I jemmied the locked drawers in is writing desk. And Harrisons diary was there? Yep. So Springheel had Harrisons diary all along? said Mr Flynn. Er, did you nd anything useful in it, Harry? said Julius hurriedly. It dont make much sense. Ive read it from cover
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to cover loads of times. The watch he was making in the diary, it wasnt just a watch. It was something else. He talks about super-light speed and intratemporal progression andand I dont know what. Its very confusing. Julius took Shelleys pocketwatch out and spun it in the air where it stayed bobbing like a cork on water. Cor, said Emily, despite herself. This is the watch that Harrison made, said Julius, proudly. Its a time-machine. I knew it! said Harry. Me and Mr Flynn have a plan to use it to rescue the professor. Im going to sail to Australia on the Bountiful. Im going to go to the professors cell and hes going to show me how to use this pocketwatch to time-jump us to freedom, said Julius. ow you going to get to im in the rst place? said Emily. Thats where you come in. Im going to make friends with the clockmen on board so they will let me into the professors cell. So, I need you all to make clockwork toys for me to give to them as gifts. Julius tapped the side of it with his nger and a pale blue light shone out all around it. He watched at their amazed expressions. First, me and Mr Flynn will need to speak to an old friend of Springheels. And Emily, Ill need your help, when the time comes, to talk a navel cadet into
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giving me his place on ship. ow am I gonna do that? said Emily suspiciously. By smiling at him.

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CH A PTER

~
19

Monday 21st July, 1840

11:05 PM

Mr Flynn and Julius walked across Blackfriars Bridge and turned left. They came to a tatty-looking tavern on Commercial Road. The sign above the door said The Queen Bess and had a painting of Queen Elizabeth underneath. The red paint for her hair was cracked and peeling and her skin was as grey as a Grackacks. This is where he spends his time these days, Julius, said Mr Flynn, pushing the door open and stepping inside with Julius close beside him. The smells of cheap tobacco and damp clothes hit Julius straight away, making his eyes water. The interior was large and full. Somewhere in the crowd a ddle was being played rather badly and a terrier was barking in time with the tune.
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Mr Flynn edged through the crowd to the bar. Julius stuck as close behind the champion bareknuckle boxer as he could. The barman eyed the two suspiciously. Yes, Gov? he said, before spitting into a glass and polishing it with his greasy apron. Im looking for Clements. Who? Mr Flynn looked at the barman but said no more. The barman swallowed and nodded his head to one side. In the snug. Much obliged to you. Well take a couple of ales, if youll be so kind, he said, then tossed a couple of coins on the bar and walked in the direction of the barmans nod. The snug was a smaller room, with curtained booths for those who wished to drink in private. It was markedly quieter and emptier than the rst room. In the dim lamplight Julius could make out the rotund pawnbroker, Clements, sitting alone in one of the booths. He sat motionless, slumped over an empty glass, enveloped in his own cigar smoke, like an outof-work genie waiting for better times to come. Clements, you old rogue, said Mr Flynn, in a friendly tone. Clements jumped. Mr Flynn? Hows life treating you? Oh, you knownot so bad, replied Clements fearfully. He made an attempt to get up but sat down
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again quickly when he realised he was cornered. What a pleasantersurprise. It is indeed, it is indeed. I have an old friend of yours with me, said Mr Flynn, slipping into the bench across from Clements, leaving Julius standing by himself at the table. Clements gasped. Higgins? Its you. I thought you were done for. Out on that roof Hello, Clements. It was an accident I promise you. You saw me trying to pull you back in? Springheel worked for hours trying to x the oscillation problem. Wewe did everything we could. I know, Clements, said Julius, sitting down beside Mr Flynn. You do? Good. Itsits good to see you again youre exactly the same as I remembered you. Isnt that strange. Yes. The barmaid brought two tankards of ale. Are you having a drink, Clements? said Mr Flynn. Oh, yes, indeed, very kind of you, Mr Flynn. Ill have a brandy, if I may. A large brandy for Mr Clements, he said to the barmaid. They sat in silence for a few moments. Mr Flynn took a long drink of his ale. Julius took a sip of his and gagged; it was the rst ale he had tasted. His
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grandfather preferred to serve wine on special occasions. The brandy arrived and Clements knocked it back. Hows that other rogue, Springheel, these days? said Mr Flynn. Springheel? How should I know? Dont talk to me about that cove, Mr Flynn, it agitates my liver. I read about him in the newspapers, now, like everybody else. Why, you see the circumstances I am in? We were supposed to be partners. We were going to be as rich as kings, richer. He cast me aside, he did, as soon as he got what he wanted. Theres no loyalty any more, Mr Flynn, no loyalty. Youre right there, Clements. It was all his doing, you know. He brought them here. He arranged for that portal to open above the Houses of Parliament. I know, I know, Clements. Its a terrible business but whats to be done? He should be horsewhipped. Aye, indeed he should. But before we do that, Julius here wants to know about the clockmen. Springheels Synthetic Anthropoids, you mean, not that anyone ever calls them that. All his invention, you know. Hed had the idea since he was a boy, when he was working for the Shelleys. He was furious when Mary Shelley wrote that dreadful book of hers. That was my idea, I gave it to her when she couldnt think
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up any ghost stories of her own, he said to me many a time. Well, hes vindicated now, I suppose. His monsters roam the streets of London while her monster prances on the London stage. Modern Prometheus, indeed. Clements stared at his empty glass. Do they really have the brains of executed criminals inside them? said Julius. Clements chuckled. You want to know, do you? Makes me shudder when I think of it. But they were murderers, so what can they expect? How is it done? He found a way of bringing life back to the dead brains. He used this new-fangled galvanism to do it. The reanimated brains can think and act, they can control the contraptions they are trapped inbut but But what? Theyre not human any more. At least not that I can see. There is something dark and ignorant about them, something base. As if they were the rst beginnings of man. Gods experiments gone wrong, perhaps? Clements sucked philosophically on his cigar and coughed. But, what of their emotions? They have none. No ner feeling. Thats why they slink away to Mr Flynns boxing bouts. ErNo offence, Mr Flynn. None taken, Clements. Please, go on. This is most
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interesting. Will you have another brandy? Most kind of you, Mr Flynn, most kind. Mr Flynn caught the eye of the barmaid clearing a nearby table and gestured towards Clementss glass. Now, where was I? Oh yes. They have no emotions. The reanimation process, it pickles them somehow. Youve seen their eyes? Dead things looking out at the world. Ghastly. Clements became thoughtful again. Another brandy was placed in front of him; and he stared into the copper liquid. I wish Id never met Springheel, he said to himself. I didnt mean for all this to happen. We have a plan to put things right, Clements, said Julius. His little eyes regarded Julius across the rim of his glass. Oh yes? There is one thing we need to know if were to put things rightwhen and where exactly did Springheel make his rst contact with the Banshees? Thats easy, Higgins. It was a chilly morning on Sunday 9th July 1837 outside the British Museum. In the early hours of the morning. I dont recall the time exactly. One more thing, Clements, said Mr Flynn, breaking the silence. Who do you know in the Navy Ofce, these days? We need to know which cadet is posted on the Bountiful. Nothing easier, said Clements.
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~
Emily and Julius walked along the Deptford and Greenwich Road on the Isle of Dogs. They were on their way to speak to navy cadet, Edgar Sedley. Their plan was to convince him to secretly give his place on the Bountiful to Julius. Julius was nervous. If Emily was, she certainly was not showing it. She had scrubbed her face and combed and plaited her long, dark hair. The new dress she was wearing was chosen to make her to look like a respectable shopkeepers daughter. The Thames was to their left, stinking even worse than usual, thanks to the low tide. Behind them, hundreds of ships were moored or in dry dock in the shipyards. Ahead of them was a grey wasteland of abandoned warehouses and open spaces under an equally grey sky. The mud banks were strewn with the otsam and jetsam of ships and sea. It was as if they had come to a place drained of colour, abandoned and lifeless. A small distance ahead, a group of boys about Juliuss age or slightly younger were throwing stones at an injured seagull trapped in the muds slothful grip. Julius swallowed and pursed his lips. One of them must be our Edgar Sedley, said Emily, practising her correct pronunciation. They had called rst at Edgars mothers house only to be
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told that he was out somewhere down the Dogs wiv is cronies, getting up to mischief . Juliuss heart began to pound as they drew closer to the boys. Hello, there, he said, in a commanding tone with just the right touch of nonchalance. The boys stopped and turned around suddenly. They had been too intent on avian murder to notice anyone coming up behind them. Their foreheads were furrowed and they held onto their stones, just in case. Were looking for Edgar Sedley, said Emily, politely. Would any of you gentlemen know where we might nd him? The boys looked at her and one of them said, Huh? By the somewhat confused expressions on their faces Julius assumed that they were as entranced by Emilys pretty face as he had been when he rst laid eyes on her in her new incarnation. Julius began to feel a little more at ease. He ran his nger through his hair to tidy his fringe and smiled condently. His mother said wed nd him here. Hes not it any trouble or anything, I can assure you. The boys seemed unconvinced. In fact, said Emily, with a shy smile. We have some rather good news for him. What news? asked one of the boys, with a mixture of suspicion and excitement.
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Thats him, Higgins, thats our Edgar Sedley, thought Julius, as he tried to conceal a grin. Greedy and not very bright. Perfect. Well, we can only talk to Edgar himself about it, you see, said Julius. Could you direct us to him? Edgars face expressed a dilemma. He was probably in trouble, bound to be, but what if it really was good news? Well, if you do happen to see Edgar, could you tell him that we called? It was a pleasure to meet you all, said Emily, smiling politely as if she would dearly have loved to get to know them all but was too shy to stay. She turned to go. Ere, ang on! said Edgar, before Julius and Emily had taken two paces. Julius cast a quick grin in Emilys direction and was rewarded with one in return.

~
So, whats this good news, then? said Edgar, as he sat down on a rotting bollard and pulled a cigar but from his pocket. It must be so exciting being a navy cadet. You must be ever so brave, said Emily, sitting on a rusty anchor, trying to hide her admiration. Well, yeahI suppose said Edgar lighting a lucifer and coughing on the rst inhale. Its my brother, you see, said Emily, after the
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coughing had ceased, indicating shyly towards Julius, who was standing by her side. He so dearly wants to go to seayou see. Oh, replied Edgar, none the wiser but enjoying every moment of looking into Emilys bright and admiring eyes. We understand that you are to sail on the Bountiful on the 8th of August, bound for Australia. Yeah, dont I know it, said Edger. Under the command of Captain Blight. Oh? Aye, Oh, indeed. No one wants to be under is command. No one likes the blighter, not even the admirals. ed og you as soon as look at you, e would. Not that youre supposed to og cadets, but anyng can appen at sea. Thats why theyre sending the clockwork crew for is command. Its an experiment, to see if we get to Port Jackson in one piece. Yes, we heard about that, said Julius. The whole crew will be clockwork, then? Except for the ofcers, of course. Therell be clockmen guarding the convicts as well, with only a couple of sergeant majors to command them. Im not looking forward to reporting for duty, Ill tell you that for nothing, mate. Well, we might be able to help you there, Edgar, said Emily, drawing closer to the young navy cadet so that her arm brushed against his.
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Oh, yeah? said Edgar, blushing and coughing at the same time. What would you say to twenty pounds, to secretly give your place on the ship to my brother? Oh, and wed need you to train him how to walk and talk like a sailor too.

~
Well done, back there, iggins. Youre quite the mace when you put your mind to it, said Emily as they walked side by side back to the attic. Thanks. You were terric, Emily, said Julius with undisguised admiration. Oh, it was nang, she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, but she smiled to herself all the same. How is Harry going with the toys? said Julius, testing the ground to see if she could be pleasant to him for more than three sentences in a row. Nearly done. Theyre all working night and day to get them nished. They aint got no time for thieving no more. Well be glad when youre gone, iggins, then we can get back to normal. Julius felt a little stung. He was relieved, though, by her mischievous smileshe was only teasing him. Youve all been wonderful, Emily. I am most grateful you know, really, he said, stepping into uncharted territory.
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Emily appeared to become a little embarrassed by his gushing. Its nang, really, iggins. Mr Flynn asked us to elp you and Mr Flynn is tops in our book. When the Banshees came to London and their airships and buzz-kites was lling the skies it was an orrible time. No one knew what was going to appen next. There was panic everywhere. E came looking for us on Warwick Lane. Wed emptied Springheels lodging and it had fallen down by then and e found us hiding in the market. E took us to the attic and said it was ours to keep. E said we was in with the Fancy and anyone who messed with us messed with them. Theres been chavys snatched off the streets everyday to be sold to the tobacco plantations in Virginy, or put in one of them steam factories, but no one snatches us, they dont dare. All we ave to worry about is the blue-bottles. We keeps out of their way and they keeps out of ours. Are you an orphan, Emily? said Julius. I mean no offence. I am tooif youre one, that is. At least I think I am. Emily stopped and looked at Julius. You think youre an orphan? Well, you see, my mother, Clara Higgins, she died when I was born, at least thats what grandfather told me. So youre alfway there. What about your old man? Im not sure. Grandfather would never say anything on that subject.
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Nang? No. He used to get very angry if ever I tried to bring it up. Emily stopped and her eyes narrowed as she thought. If your old lady was called iggins when she died, that mean she werent hitched, no offence. Which means your old man left er in the lurch when she got herself in the family way. Yes, I suppose so. appens all the time. Julius was silent. They started to walk again. Emilycan I tell you a secret? Emily stopped. Course you can. I think that Mr Flynn might be my father. Instead of Emily laughing, she smiled knowingly. That explains it, she said. Explains what? Mr Flynn sends one of us round to iggins shop regular like, to look in the window and see ow the old boy is. and? Not that many customers go in no more. And es getting older quicker than e should. Its dusty in there and e dont ave the nous e used to ave for wheeling and dealing. And thats why Mr Flynn doesnt call on him, himself. Exactly. He got your ma in the family way n then
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scarpered n your grandpa never forgave im. Julius winced at Emilys precision and looked away. Are you glad Mr Flynns your pa? I would be, even if e did scarper, said Emily. Im going to visit grandfather. Ill see you at the attic, said Julius as he peeled away hurriedly. ang on. Im going wiv you. All rightBut, Emily. Yes? Dont tell Mr Flynn. Emily shrugged her shoulders. Its nafng to me what you do, mate.

~
Julius ducked his head as he walked along Ironmonger Lane. It had not changed much in the three years, except for Higgins Booksellers. The pavement outside had not been swept for a long time. That was Juliuss job. When he tried to look through the window he could faintly see the interior through the layer of dust. He wiped a circle of dust away and peered through the spy-hole. Mr Higgins was at his usual place behind the counter. His shoulders were more stooped than Julius remembered and his hair was longer. The display table right by the window had a few cobwebs draped over it. Julius read the spines
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on the books. Histories, by Herodotus, in three volumes was still there, and Rufuss Alexandra the Great. They had not been changed since he had left. That had been his job too. Through the glass, Julius looked at his grandfather again. He appeared to be talking to himself and to be busy doing not very much. The quill was being dipped in and out of the inkwell and papers were being shufed and the ledger picked up and put down again. Wots e doing? said Emily. Nothing. Julius turned away and leant against the wall. He remembered the way his grandfather tapped his teaspoon unnecessarily on the side of his teacup after stirring his tea, making it ring like a porcelain bell. Julius could hear the sound in his ears. It used to irritate him to distraction, as did the unnecessary throat clearing, and the endless spectacle cleaning. The day was draining away. A shiver ran through him. He shrugged himself off the wall. You all right, iggins? Lets go home, he said.

~
On their return to the attic Harry ran up to Julius. Ive got a new plan for freeing the professor, iggins. Its a much better one than yours, he said excitedly.
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What? Come here, look at this, he said, leading Julius to the table. One of Harrys many notebooks lay open at a page with a drawing of a clockwork spider. Look at that, he said. Yes? I got the idea from arrisons diary. e used lots of different types of metal in is watches, depending on wot needed to be donedifferent materials behave differently, do you see? It gave me the idea for the glass trigger. Look here. Harry pointed to the drawing. I dont really- The spiders will be the size of a sovereign n at, so you can ide them in your pockets. You activate them by frowing them in the ground. The sliver of glass right there breaksthat releases the mainspring and you ave thirty seconds of energy. For what? The spiders move like lightning they run in circles til they nd an obstacle; then they climb up and when they reach a crevice they go inside and when they get stuck and cant go any further the legs lock out, thereby jamming the heart mechanism. The heart mechanism? Inside the clockmen. So- So you dont have to make friends with the
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clockmen. You can jam up their mechanism instead. But that would kill themwouldnt it? said Julius. Kill them? Theyre only machines, iggins. I know, but But what. Ill tell you whatmake some for me. Ill take them with me, just in case.

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CH A PTER

~
20

Saturday 8th August, 1840

5:24 AM

ulius, Harry, Emily and Mr Flynn stood in the Royal Victoria Gardens shivering in the chilly dawn air. They had been walking since midnight to get there. The sun had not yet risen but a band of icy blue sky stretched over the rooftops. Across the river they could see the Bountiful docked on the water-side of the Justitia. The prisoners were being loaded by an enclosed gangplank straight onto the ship that was to take them to Australia. Everything was remarkably quiet. Julius was dressed in his navy cadets uniform of blue felt jacket and white canvas trousers with the kitbag slung over his shoulder the way Edgar had shown him to do it. He was feeling a little sick in the stomach but kept it to himself.
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All the toys are in your kitbag, iggins, said Harry. All tested, oiled and ready to do their worst. Youve got the spiders? Yes, said Julius, tapping his jacket pockets. Thanks, Harry. Thanks ever so much for everything. Harry shook Juliuss hand with great formality. Its nothing, iggins. Get on with you now. Time to report for duty. Julius forced a laugh. They all shufed their feet for a few moments. Mr Flynn checked the time on his watch. Give my regards to the professor when you see him, Julius. AndI wont be seeing you again, will I? Not if our plan works, that is. NoI dont suppose so. Its strange, this timetravel business. It is, said Mr Flynn, patting Juliuss shoulder. UmMr Flynn? Mr Flynn shifted his weight. Yes? Ive been checking on my grandfatherjust looking in the window. OhIm sorry you had to see that, Julius. Mr Flynn, I know why you fell out with grandfather? Mr Flynns eyebrows furrowed suddenly. He looked at his watch again and weighed it in his hand. Do you? Julius waited for him to say more but he did not. It doesnt matter to me, what you didI mean,
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we all do things we regret. Im just glad you came back, said Julius. How did you nd out? I worked it out. Im glad you came back, really; Im glad you and the professor brought me along. And Im glad you came. Gladder than you can ever imagine, my boy. Julius blushed. He had rehearsed this conversation a thousand times during their walk to the park. In his mind, they always ended with him saying the words I know youre my father and for he and Mr Flynn to embrace as long-lost father and son, but when the time came he did not have the courage to say the words. Instead, the four stood in silence, shivering in the chilly wind. At least you know now, Higgins, he as much as said it. When you met the other Mr Flynn youll have the courage to say the words. Suddenly, Emily grabbed Juliuss arm. Ill see you off to the jetty, she said, pulling him away before he could say or do anything to object. At the jetty a skip was waiting. A few young navy ofcers were larking about nearby. When Emily and Julius came within hearing distance Emily gave his arm a tug to stop him and stood closer to him than she ever had before. See, I told you he was my father, said Julius, looking into her eyes. She smelt of soap. She must have washed before coming out, Higgins. Did she do it for you?
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Emilys face reddened as if she had read his thoughts. Emily? Look after Mr Flynn, wont you? Yeah, course. Especially now es your pa. Julius laughed. Emily? Ier Julius looked into Emilys eyes but he could not think of anything to say. Emily smiled and her dark eyes widened invitingly. Julius felt as if he was drowning in her beauty. Yeah? Thank you for Oh, Eddie, my darling, Eddie, Emily shouted suddenly. What will I do when youre gone? ow will I get through them long, lonely days? Er And dont you go breaking no more earts in the colonies, now, you ear me? And come back to me so we can be married, like you promised. Wha? One last kiss before you leave is all I ask of you, my dearest Eddie, she said, like a heroine on a provincial stage. Before Julius could reply Emily wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a long, wet, airtight kiss on his lips. Cor, blimey, Higgins. This is more like it, he thought as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled
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her as close as he could without breaking her spine. His eyes rolled to the top of his head and swam in a warm, soapy pond where time could take a long as it wanted, as far as he was concerned. Eventually Emily pulled herself away and took a deep breath. She smiled at Julius, winked and ran off to join Harry and Mr Flynn. Before Julius had time to gather his thoughts or say anything, he heard the young ofcers cheering. He looked toward the jetty where they were applauding and making lewd gestures involving their kitbags. Julius quickly thought through the instructions that the real Edgar Sedley had given him to memorise. The rules for ribbing: A navy ofcer is always ready to give and receive a merciless ribbing in good grace, among his fellow ofcers. However, this should never be attempted while in the company of (1) The crew, (2) Passengers/convicts, (3) Ladies of rank, (4) The Captain, and (5) Never on the quarterdeck. Julius took a deep breath. Here goes, Higgins. Its up to you now. He slung his kitbag over his shoulder, took a bow to his audience and sauntered over with the seamans swagger he had been practising for a week. He looked back towards the gardens as the young ofcers were slapping him on the back. Emily, Harry and Mr Flynn waved. Julius waved back.

~
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When they had all settled into the skip the boatman rowed them across the Thames towards the Bountiful. As they drew closer Julius could see the clockwork crew shinnying up and down the shrouds, setting the sails. (When learning the names of ships parts Sedley had warned him not to call the shrouds rigging or he would be cast overboard with the full blessing of the Admiralty. Only landlubbers used that term and were universally despised by seafarers as a result.) The clockwork crew were dressed in canvas tops and pants cut to just below the knee. In stature, Julius judged them to be smaller and slighter than the clockmen. Their movements they were quick and co-ordinated, more like an organ grinders monkeys antics than the clockmens slow and considered wading bird movements. Now he understood why everyone called them grinders. Julius climbed up the rope ladder to the deck, hoping that it would not take him too long to get his sea legs. The short trip in the skip had already made him a little queasy. He quickly looked around to see what was what. A machine-cannon had been bolted in place on the quarter deck and was pointed down at the lower deck right at the hatch. Edging towards the hatch, he could hear the groans and calls of protest from the convicts down in the hold. The professors down there with them. Not too long now, Higgins. Beyond the Justitia, on the dockside, Julius could
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see a crowd of sailors shouting and waving sticks and cudgels. A line of constables with truncheons drawn was waiting for them to charge. Cant blame the salts really, said a young ofcer beside Julius. Theyre loosing their livelihoods to a crew of windup toys and getting hanged into the bargain. What do you mean? The salts are always up before the beak for drunkenness, ghting, the odd bit of skulduggery here and there. They usually get a spell in the brig, or a ogging. But nowwhen the Admiralty and the Banshees decided to use Springheels invention to crew the ships, all of a sudden the charges are getting trumped up and theyre getting hanged by the bucket load. I dont understand. They need their brains and eyes, dimwit. They need brains that know how to crew a ship, see. Look at them shinnying up and down the shrouds, born to it they are. They dont need food or water, just a drop of oil now and then to stop them seizing up. Oh, I see, said Julius, looking up at the masts. I hadnt thought. Yeah, well, it wont be the same with a windup crew, you mark my words. Gives me the willies, I can tell you. Something giving you the willies, Mr Sprogett? said a booming voice behind them.
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Julius dropped his kitbag when he jumped in fright. No, Captain. I mean, yes, Captain, said Mr Sprogett, standing to attention as stiff as a cofn nail. Julius spun around to see a short, stout man wearing a captains hat and cape. He stood to attention and called to mind Sedleys instructions. Rules for speaking to Captain Blight: (1) Try not to. (2) If addressed directly, stand to attention, say Yes, Captain and salute. (3) Under no circumstances are you to: smile; look him in the eye; pause to think before speaking; say anything that will give him an excuse to og you. (4) Get out of his sight as quickly as possible. What the devil is that? said the captain, glaring at Julius. Edger Sedley, Captain, reporting for duty. It speaks! What in blue blazes are you doing mudlarking around on deck, Sedley? No duties to attend to? Perhaps you would like me to get a chair for you? With a cushion perhaps? No, Captain. Ill attend to my duties right away, Captain. Well, get to it then, Sedley, or Ill have you ogged raw and then Ill throw you overboard for the sharks and when theyve nished with you Ill have you hauled back on board scrubbing the deck from aft to stern til we round the Cape.
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Yes, Captain, said Julius, and he saluted, picked up his kitbag and ran away.

~
Julius looked up at the main mast. The sails were straining under the force of the wind and he could feel the Bountiful lifting and heaving beneath him as it ploughed through the turquoise sea at the mouth of the Thames. Overhead a squadron of buzz-kites ew in a V formation to bid them bon voyage. The ofcers cried out Horrah, horrah and waved billowing white handkerchiefs to them while the clockwork crew attended to their duties. Four clockmen stood still and silent in a sheltered spot beneath the quarter deck; Christian Machine was among them. The other six clockmen were on duty guarding the convicts in the hold. The navy ofcers guffawed at the two army sergeants major, Oldsworth and Deakin, as they staggered below decks, pale with seasickness, Julius was feeling very proud of his stamina until the choppy waters of the English Channel began to toss the ship more and more. As the English coastline oated away Julius attended to Edgars instructions. When rst at sea, sea sickness is bound to occur. When it does (1) Remain on deck where the fresh air will alleviate the symptoms somewhat. (2) At the rst opportunity lean overboard
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while holding rmly to the ship. Proceed to heave up over the side. You will feel a lot better afterwards. (3) Do not take offence if fellow ofcers laugh at your predicament. ( see ribbing) That done, Julius immediately felt better.

~
The ship hoisted a Union Jack when they approached the otilla of Continental and American warships. They were allowed to pass through without incident; any attempt to block their passage would have been seen as an act of war. Had the Continentals and Americans known that there was a Grackack on board however, their cannons would have sunk the ship.

~
Life on board the Bountiful, for Julius, settled into a busy routine once they made it through a violent storm at the Bay of Biscay. Several clockwork crew were injured in the maelstrom, mostly by seawater getting into the inner mechanisms or from falling from the shrouds and the yardarms in the mountainous swells. They were repaired by the ships clockmaker while the ship itself was attended to by the ships carpenters. As a navy cadet it was Juliuss job to look, listen and learn quickly, to be silent and attentive and always to be useful to the ofcers around him. He had
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the run of the ship except for the convict quarters below decks. On the occasions when he attempted to go below there was always a clockman there to turn him back before he could see anything of any use. On rare occasions the convicts were allowed on deck, in small numbers, for exercise and air. The clockmen always kept a close watch over them with one of their number manning the machine cannon. The convicts were pale and sickly and shaded their eyes from even the greyest of skies as they walked in circles with their leg irons clinking along with the ticking of the clockwork crew. The rumour of the Grackack convict soon spread among the ofcers of the Bountiful and it was quickly conrmed by the sergeants major while under the inuence of rum. They said that the Grackack was chained up in a sealed cell at the furthest end of the hold. The clockmen were under strict instructions to let no one near him, and to kill anyone who tried. Captain Blightmay God grant im boils in inconvenient placescouldnt get to within twenty paces of the Banshee, even if e had a letter of introduction from Queen Victoria erself, God bless er, Sergeant Major Oldsworth had said between swigs of rum, before passing out. As the Bountiful set a course for Port of Spain to take on water and supplies, Julius rummaged through his kitbag. It was time to put the plan into action. He
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took out a clockwork nightingale and slipped it into his pocket. It was early evening and all was dark but for the lamp on the quarterdeck. He slipped into the passage that led to the clockmens quarters. Julius put his ear to the door. There was no sound but he knew that Christian Machine and three other clockmen were resting in there after being on duty all day. He knocked loud enough to be heard above the sound of the sea and the ship. There was no reply. He knocked again, took a deep breath and turned the handle. The clockmens quarters was no more than a small, square room with wooden benches built around three walls. Julius could smell the watch oil and the damp canvas suits. The lamp creaked as it swung from a hook in the ceiling, in time with the rolling of the ship. The clockmen sat in silence. They turned their telescope eyes on Julius when he entered. But the four pairs of eyes gave nothing away. If they were surprised, annoyed or indifferent to his intrusion into their private quarters, Julius could not tell. He had rehearsed this rst meeting, but now that the time had come, the words he had imagined seemed trite and meaningless and disappeared they like a ock of startled starlings. Hello, he said. I hope you dont mind the intrusionI wanted to give you something, Christian Machine.
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The clockmen looked at him. We met in London I dont know if you recall. It was quite some time ago. Speak plainly, Higgins or hell never understand you. How do you do? said Julius as he held out his hand to the clockman. The clockman looked down at Juliuss small, pale and trembling hand and then back at his face. Julius blinked. Christian Machine slowly extended his hand and held Juliuss. Flynns young friend? came a crackling sound through the brass mesh where a mouth should have been. Yes, thats right. The clockman looked at Julius and then released his grip. Julius knew that he would not be able to speak again for a little while. Mr Flynn sends his regards. Ive brought you something, I thought you might like it. ItsIts well, Ill show you, said Julius as he took the toy nightingale from his pocket. The yellow lamp light caught the curves and lines of the toy as Julius held it out for them to see. The four pairs of eyes rested to it. Julius turned the key in the side of the tiny brass bird. As the mainspring unwound, the wings uttered, the head turned from side to side and the beak opened and closed. From within, a music box played a nightingales call. The mainspring soon wound down, the music stopped and
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the wings were still. The clockmen continued to look at the brass bird, not moving. Anyway, said Julius. I thought you might like it. A friend made it and I thought of you, what with you being, you knowclockwork yourselfno offence intended. Christian Machine looked at Julius. Look, it winds up here. You can listen to it whenever you like, although not while on duty, I suppose, said Julius as he offered the bird up to him. None of the clockmen said anything so after a moments hesitation Julius placed it into Christian Machines hand and left the room. As soon as the doorhandle had clicked shut he placed his ear to the door and listened. There was no sound. He strained his ear. Nothing. It was a stupid idea anyway, Higgins. You knew it wouldnt work. Julius pressed his ear to the door one last time. Not a sound. He turned to leave when a nightingales call stopped him in his tracks. He put his ear back to the door and listened to the tune. There, you knew it would work, Higgins.

~
Julius slept very little that night. He checked his kitbag the next morning to make sure the other toys were still there. A clockwork horse was the next thing he
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took out and put in his pocket. That evening, when he knocked and entered the clockmens quarters he saw that Christian Machine was holding the clockwork nightingale delicately in his ngers. Hello, he said with a little more condence this time. They all looked at him. Julius imagined he saw something different in their eyes this time. Ive brought something else. Its a horse, he said as he took the tiny toy from his pocket and held it out on the at of his palm. The clockmen all leaned in closer to get a better look. Julius lifted it a little higher so the lamplight could do the brass horse full justice. Watch this, he said, as he wound the key sticking out of its side. The horses legs moved stify as the mechanism buzzed. He held his right hand out for the horse to walk on. The clockmen watched in silence as the horse reached the end of Juliuss right hand. One of the clockmen held out his palm, as at as he could make it. Julius allowed the horse to carry on to the clockmans hand. The clockman seemed to have the hang of it. They all watched as he allowed the clockwork horse to traverse the landscape of wood and brass. Julius left the room. Its all going to plan, Higgins. The professor will be free before we dock at Trinidad.

~
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Over the next four days Julius went to the clockmens quarters at the end of their shifts and distributed clockwork toys two at time. There were birds with uttering wings, cats that purred and even a tiny clockman. By his nal visit it was as if the clockmen were waiting for him. If Julius did not know better he would have said he saw anticipation in their eyes when he walked in. Theyre beautiful, arent they? said Julius, when he had distributed the last one, clockwork bumblebee. Yes, said Christian Machine. Julius guessed that he was the spokesman for them all as he was the only one who ever spoke directly to him. Im glad you like them. Dont let anyone see, though. They might not understand. We know. Goodwell, Id better be off then. Julius was about to close the door but turned to see the four off duty clockmen looking at him. He stopped. Ask them now, Higgins, go on, you coward. The clockman sitting next to Christian Machine nudged him. Christian Machine appeared to be summoning the energy to speak again. We thank you, he said and then visibly sagged from the effort. Youre welcome, said Julius. Ithere is just one thing he continued as he looked at the wood and brass faces. Its nothing, goodnight.
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He closed the door and hastened down the corridor to the deck. Ill ask them tomorrow. They cant refuse me, not nowcan they?

~
The next morning, just before dawn, Julius was woken by a loud crash resounding through the ship. He fell out of his hammock and hit the oor as a cacophony of bangs and crashes rang out on the deck. Oh cripes, Higgins. The ships sinking. You didnt think of that, did you? He could hear men shouting as he and a few other young ofcers hastily dressed. They burst out onto the deck to see the most astonishing sight. In the faint dawn light Julius saw two clockmen locked in combat. Brass sts were pounding at one another; they grappled and punched with more ferocity and speed than Julius had seen them use when ghting humans. Every blow reverberated across the deck. Ofcers were coming from all points of the ship, other clockmen were climbing up from the hold and the grinders were hopping excitedly among the shrouds like spectators cheering at a boxing bout. If they go on like this theyll have the Bountiful in splinters, thought Julius. One of the clockmen was getting the upper hand, slamming his compatriot repeatedly against the base of the main mast.
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What is the meaning of this? bellowed Captain Blight, coming on deck in his night shirt and night cap. Desist from this unseemly display immediately, do you hear? The duelling clockmen did not hear. Mr Sprogett, Mr Sprogett. Where in Hades name are the sergeants who keep these contraptions in line? he shouted. Below decks, Captain. Drunk as usual. What are you waiting for, man? Get them up here. Yes, Captain, said Sprogett. He saluted and sprinted toward the ofcers quarters followed by a contingent of fellow ofcers. Christian Machine climbed out from the hold and attempted to take a hold of the ghting clockmans arm as it tried to pound his opponent overboard. The clockman was in such a frenzy that he lashed out at Christian Machine, knocking his ear grill across the deck. A moment later the two sergeants major were hauled on deck by the ofcers. They were half asleep, half dead and half dressed. Order your contraptions to desist, before they sink my ship, bellowed the captain. The sergeants both stared in disbelief. Well? Do something, damn you, or Ill have you ogged, navy regulations be damned, bellowed the
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captain, quivering with rage. Yes, sir, said sergeant Oldsworth. Right away, sirEre, come on Deakin, he said to the other sergeant. Well do it like on the parade ground. Theyve ad it drummed into em, they cant disobey a direct order from us. You ope, said Deakin. Well, eres oping, shouted Oldsworth above the din of the battle. He stepped forward, stood to attention and roared like an angry elephant. ATTEEEENSHUN! Oldsworth held his hand to his throbbing temple and watched the clockmen battle on. The effort of shouting had made his head worse. Christian Machine and the other non-combatants had obeyed his command, however. They stood to attention like clockwork soldiers still in their boxes. You eard the man, you useless articles, yelled Deakin, marching perilously close to the battling clockmen. This had the desired effect. The clockmen stopped pounding one another and separated. The one leaning backwards over the rail fell on the deck while the other one stood to attention. They had done considerable damage to each otherwooden slats were punched in and brass ttings were pulled eschew and dented. The ship was suddenly quiet. Captain Blights
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eyes balls bulged out of their sockets as he looked at the damage they had caused to his ship. I told the Admiralty, he bellowed. I told them not to allow these abominations on board, he yelled as he pushed Oldsworth aside and stood quivering with rage in front of Christian Machine. What is the meaning of this display of barbarism? Christian Machine said nothing but stood still, leaning to the left. The side of his head was dented and scarred from the blow he had received. If Julius had not known better he would have thought that the clockman was in pain. Answer me, bellowed the captain. Julius sidled up to Oldsworth. Tell the captain, he whispered out of the side of his mouth. Tell im what. That Christian Machine cant answer immediately. You tell im. I aint saying nang. Julius swallowed. He was beginning to feel seasick again. Captain, said Julius, stepping forward to attention. You need to give him time to speak, captain. Theyre not very good at talking. Captain Blight spun around and stared in disbelief at Julius. Throw that accursed boy overboard, he bellowed. A few of the ofcers hesitated before grabbing
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him. Throwing cadets overboard was denitely against Navy regulations. What are you waiting for, a ogging? Throw the brat overboard. Ill not have cabin boys give me orders on my ship, do you hear? bellowed Captain Blight. WaitI said Julius as Sprogett grabbed him by the shirt sleeve and steered him to the rail. Dont worry Sedley, try to stay aoat til Blighty calms down and well come back for you, I promise, he whispered into Juliuss ear. Juliuss survival instincts overtook all sense of forward planning. He struggled furiously with Sprogett, but two other ofcers sprang forward and held him tight, stopping his hand as it went to his pocket to get the brass spiders. They were just about to heave him overboard when a hand shot out and held him rmly by the upper arm. In his blind panic, Julius did not know what was happening. He was only aware of the iron grip on his arm and the fact that he was not yet under water. What is the meaning of this insubordination? the captain bellowed. Julius found himself on his feet beside Christian Machine, who had a rm hold of his arm. The ofcers stepped back and stared at the clockman like awed children. Oldsworth? Oldsworth? Where are you, damn it? said the captain looking around for the sergeant.
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Make it let go of that boy. Yes, sir. ErNow look ere, Machine, whats this all about? You knows the rules about ghting and and such like? Speak up man, said Oldsworth in commanding but conciliatory tone. Christian Machine was silent. Julius was trying to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. Oldsworth stepped closer to them but stopped when he noticed something on the deck. He stooped to pick it up. The ship swayed and the sun climbed further on the horizon as he examined his nd. Whats this? he said to himself. Oldsworth held it up the rising sun. Julius guessed what it was. Cripes, Higgins, thats it, then. Stumps up, back to the pavilion. The sergeant appeared to be trying to think through his hangover. He beckoned to Deakin. The two sergeants major looked at one another and then at Christian Machine. Whats this, Machine? said Oldsworth. Mine, crackled the clockman who was slumped on the deck. No. Mine, crackled the other. You didnt think of that, did you, Higgins? Theyre murderers, remember? Not clergymen. We should have made more of the toys, let them choose the one they wanted so they wouldnt ght over them. Where did they get this contraband from, Machine? said Oldsworth, his hangover now forgotten.
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Christian Machine was silent and still but he maintained his grip on Juliuss arm. Oldsworth looked at the clockmen, all in turn, as if he was seeing them for the rst time; looking for clues about what made them tick. He tapped the squashed brass bird on the palm of his hand. Everyone, even Captain Blight, waited in silence. His eyes fell on Christian Machines clothes. He stopped his in-breath when his eyes fell on the shape of something concealed behind the lapel. He handed the bird to Deakin, stepped forward and lifted the lapel. Christian Machine stiffened. There, sticking out of the underside of his lapel, was Aggies clockwork daisy. The clockman had made a hole in the canvas for the stem of the ower to sit in the lining. The ower bud itself could only be seen if the lapel was lifted. Oldsworth pulled it out. Whats this? Christian Machine was silent. The sergeant studied the brass ower bud. Nice workmanship. He looked around again. The hangover was well and truly a thing of the past now. Oldsworth, I really If you will be so kind, Captain, interrupted Oldsworth raising a nger for quiet as he stared into Christian Machines eyes. Where did you get this contraband? Being met with only silence, the sergeants eyes strayed down the clockmans arm to the cadet hanging
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limp and trembling at the other end. Julius tried not to meet his stare. What dyou know about this, boy? Nothing. Oldsworth watched the cadet. Time ticked past. Pretty little ng, he said, pretending study it. Whats this key do, then? He wound the key and held it up. The tinny tune played while the petals opened. The quiet melody spread throughout the ship. All ears strained to hear it. Then it wound down and the petal closed. There was silence again except for the waves against the hull. The sun was fully up by now and a salty breeze was blowing across the deck. Julius began to shiver. For the last time, Machine. Where did you get it? The clockman was silent. Oldsworth let the ower fall to the deck. The clockman tightened his grip on Juliuss arm as he and Oldsworth locked eyes. Last chance, Machine, said Oldsworth. The clockman did not move. Oldsworth lifted his leg and smashed the heel of his boot down on Aggies daisy. The crunching sound jarred through Juliuss body. Christian tensed, his body vibrating and his internal mechanisms wound tighter and tighter, his eyes still locked with Oldsworth. Youre nang, Machine. You hear me? Youre a machine. You does what youre told to do. You dont
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need no kiddies toys. You need watch oil, thats all, nang more, said the sergeant. You does what youre told to do and when youre too rusty to use no more youll be frown on the ash eap for the ragamufns to pick you to pieces. Julius could hear the springs in Christian Machines body winding tighter and tighter. The sergeant stared, unmoved and unafraid. The springs were wound so tight that the clockman was vibrating under the strain of holding them in place; all they needed was to be released for the Christian Machine to smash the ship to splinters. Youre nang, and you know it. The clockmans mechanisms whirred. Where can you go, Machine? You dont belong nowhere cept where we say. God dont want you cos youre not one of his. Im all the god youll ever get and I tells you what to do and what not to do. Christian Machine pulled himself up to his full height as if he was trying to burst out of his body. The cogs and wheels inside him vibrated. Sergeant Oldsworth stood resolutely still. Then the clockmans body sagged and the springs unwound harmlessly. Oldsworth smiled to himself. Now, you heard the captain. Throw the boy overboard.

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CH A PTER

~
21

Thursday 3rd September, 1840

6:02 AM

hristian Machine hoisted Julius up onto the ships rail. Over the side, the choppy sea was swelling in peaks and valleys of freezing brine. No, wait, cried out Julius, grabbing one of the ropes of the shroud. Im sorry, crackled Christian Machine. Julius let go of the rope and thrust his hand into his pocket. He took out a handful of Harrys brass spiders. Im sorry too, he said. He threw the spiders to the deck. As soon as they hit the hard wooden surface the glass splinter shattered and the power of the mainspring was unleashed, just the way Harry had designed them to do. The spiders scuttled up Christian Machines legs and sought out any crevice they could. One went inside the
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clockman through the back of his knee joint, another through his arm pit, another through his damaged ear opening. Others failed to nd any opening and scampered around the surface until they ran down. The three that managed to get inside scuttled towards his chest area where the heart mechanism was. The spiders scurried in amongst the myriad cogs and wheels and as soon as they got stuck and could go no further another internal switch was thrown and their eight legs shot out in all directions as straight as the ships mast. They locked with the clockmans cogs and wheels, destroying them. The mechanism ground to a standstill. Christian Machine was dead. Im sorry, said Julius, looking one last time into Christian Machines eyes. He pulled his arm from the dead grip and climbed the shroud before anyone could shout out any commands. Its all gone wrong, Higgins, everything. That wasnt supposed to happen. Youve got about half a minute to come up with something. Catch that boy, catch him. Hes a saboteur. Hes in league with the Continent. He must be stopped, shouted Captain Blight to the clockwork crew scattered around the shrouds and along the yardarms. Julius had only gone a up a few rungs of the shroud when he was confronted by his rst grinder. He took another spider from his pocket and slammed it into the automatons head. The impact set the device in
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motion and in seconds the spider had scuttled down the grinders neck and stopped its heart mechanism causing it to fall to the deck, dead. Julius now had a clear run up to the rst yardarm. Man the machine-cannon, commanded the Captain. Shoot the traitor down. Julius sweated and strained to pull himself up the rungs. One of the ofcers ran up the ladder to the quarterdeck and was setting the switches and positioning the gun in his direction. Oh cripes, Higgins, this is truly it. Who would have thought it would end like this? Being shot in the rigging off the coast of the Indies while playing hide and seek with clockwork organ grinders monkeys. No one, Higgins, no one in their right mind. It could only happen to you, Higgins, no one else, and do you know why? Because youre an idiot, a gold-plated, dyed-in-the-wool, money-backguaranteed idiot. He looked up to see one of the grinders crawling across the yardarm overhead. In a few seconds he would be wrestling with him, if the machine-cannon did not get him rst. Holding on to the ropes with one hand he searched his pockets for more spiders. Youve used them all up, Higgins. Well done. Marvellous, absolutely splendid. Just then, his hand fell on Shelleys watch sitting snug in his inside breast pocket. Instinctively took it out. He wedged himself into one of the rungs and spun it in the air. Amber light immediately shone out.
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Thats a good sign, Higgins. He glanced at the quarterdeckthe ofcer would be ready to re in the next few seconds. He looked upthe grinder was just above his head. What have you got to loose, Higgins? Its certain death if you stay here. The grinder grabbed his shoulder and then leapt onto his back pinning him to the ropes. The amber light was spreading out around the pocketwatch and the polyrhythm was getting louder. All you need to do is tap it, Higgins. Just like the professor did. The grinder wrapped an arm around Juliuss neck and the ofcer at the machine-cannon opened re. The lead balls tore gashes in the sail near Julius, one of them hit the grinders shoulder. Stop ring, you imbecile, bellowed Captain Blight. Youre ripping the sails. Another lead ball hit the grinders head and it lurched backwards, but still kept its hold around Juliuss neck, pulling him backwards, gagging from the stranglehold. The rope was slipping through his ngers. Everyone below watched in astonishment as the amber glow from the pocketwatch continued to grow, enveloping the entire ship. Juliuss ngers relinquished their hold and he fell backwards with the grinder clinging on. In desperation he clutched for the watch and one of his ngers brushed the edge. Only the slightest of touches, but it was enough. A deathly silence sliced through the fabric of space and time.
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Julius felt himself falling, his arms and legs were groping for something rm to hold onto. The timepiece grew to the size of a city and the ticking boomed through the universe. As he spun uncontrollably, Julius did his best to look around. Circling the enormous pocketwatch was a ring of spinning convicts and ofcers ailing their arms and legs in a blind panic as they hurtled through outer rim of a spinning galaxy. Julius suddenly saw the sense of holding hands during a time-jump. Beyond them, further out in space was another ring, like the rings of Saturn. This was made of millions of ships parts and the parts of clockmen and the grinders. It was as if the whole ship and the clockwork crew has been ripped up into their constituent parts. There were nails and lengths of canvas, ropes, splintered wood and brass instruments all orbiting Shelleys pocketwatch. The next thing Julius knew, he hit the ground and rolled over on soft grass. He grabbed the watch bobbing in the air in front of him. Before he had a chance to get his bearings though, there was a sound like the crash of thunder in the sky. Julius looked up to see a whirlwind of wood, canvas, ropes and brass pieces spinning in the air. All around the larger whirlwind smaller whirlwinds were re-assembling the clockmen and the grinders. Thousands of individual parts of the Bountiful were being put back together again as if by the wind. The fully formed ship hung suspended
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in the air for less than a second. In the silence of that moment Julius stared in open-mouthed helplessnesshe knew what was going to happen next. The great ship smashed into the ground. The hull shattered like an eggshell. Masts, rigging and quarterdeck broke apart, with a strangely balletic grace, under the force of their own weight and momentum, splintering into thousands of pieces. Julius ran as fast as he could away from the ship. Shards of wood and other ships parts ew past him through the air and stuck into the lawn. The sound of the ship being torn apart was ear-splittingan agonising cry gripping and shaking the ground. As he ran, Julius was overtaken by a grinder and a couple of clockmen bounding with surprising agility across the grass. The whole ships compliment was sprinting away from the crashing ship. Most of the convicts chains did not seem to have been correctly reconstructed by the watch and so most of them were not chained together. The unfortunate few who were still chained together looked as if they were running in a very serious three-legged race. When the shipwreck nally came to rest and all the ying debris had fallen, Julius sank to his knees, exhausted. All around him the convicts and ofcers of the Bountiful stared in disbelief. Throughout the parklands where they had landed were gentlemen in black frock coats and top hats, women in colourful
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bonnets and voluminous skirts and children wearing their Sunday best. They were likewise staring in amazement at the spectacle of the earthbound shipwreck and its ragtag crew. It only took half a minute though for the spectators to assume that this was only another of so many spectacular events put on to show the superiority of British ingenuity. A small boy in the crowd was the rst to clap his hands. Soon the applause spread throughout the parklands until the air was full of the sound of cheering and handclapping. Julius stood up and fought the urge to bow. Instead he placed the watch safely in his pocket. As he did so he noticed that he was kitted out in a new suit of clothes to match the fashion of the perioda dark suit with a stiff collar which chaffed his neck. He looked around. This is Hyde Park, Higgins, you can be sure of it. But when? Thats what you need to know. Directly behind the crowd Julius could see a huge building made of entirely of glass. It had not been there the last time he and his grandfather went for a Sunday stole in the park. Its thousands of panes glistened in the sunlight. A few of them had been shattered by debris from the Bountiful. People were queuing up to get inside. It must be hundreds of years in the future. Nice one, Higgins, your rst independent time-jump and you make a royal mess of it. By now the crowd of onlookers were advancing upon the bemused time-travellers to congratulate them on their magnicent theatrical feat. Top-hatted
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gentleman shook the hands of the startled convicts. Julius took a sharp intake of breath when he saw clockmen among the crowd. They wore the same frock coats and top hats and walked with an elegant gait. The design of their faces paid more attention to beauty than utility and they were slimmer and more upright in stature than the clockmen Julius had become accustomed to. These automata headed for the grinders and clockmen and proceeded to pat them on their backs and to praise them in cultured tones for their splendid acting. Julius was too small and insignificant in appearance to be singled out for praise, which suited him wellhe needed time to think. Julius? said a familiar voice behind him. He spun around to see an old gentleman in a pale gray frock coat and silk top hat staggering towards him. His eyes had a distant, haunted look and was visibly trembling as he stumbled forward making good use of his cane. Julius, my boy, he said as he gripped Juliuss shoulder for support. What a hullabaloo. Professor? Yes, my boy, its me. I never thought I would see a friendly face again andand here you are. Fancy seeing you here. Yes. Here, let us make a quiet exit from these proceedings. We have much to discuss. Is Mr Flynn with you, by any chance?
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CH A PTER

~
22

Thursday 21st August, 1851

10:16 AM

ulius made his way unobtrusively through the crowd with the professor leaning on his arm. Anyone who cared to look in their direction would have seen an old gentleman with his grandson, out to see the wonders of Hyde Park. We might as well have a look, now that we are here, said the professor as he steered Julius towards the sign saying : The Great Exhibition Crystal PalaceTicket Ofce. Once inside, the professor found a few coins in his pocket with which they purchased a pot of tea
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and sat under an oak tree inside the Crystal Palace. All around them excited humans and automata wandered past going from one exhibit to the next. Aaaaahhhh, said the professor after he had taken a sip of his tea. The divine brew. I feel immeasurably restored now. Have you noticed something, professor? said Julius, taking a sip from his own cup. Yes, Juliusthe absence of Grackacks. There is not a single one in sight. Does that mean the Grackacks were defeated? And the clockmen, they seem to be, I dont know different? We are in a possible future, Julius. According to this, said the professor, perusing a pamphlet the girl at the ticket ofce had given him, We are in the year 1851. A mere fourteen years in the future but far enough ahead for many possible timelines to have been established, if things have gotten a little out of control. Who knows? In this timeline there are no more Grackacks and clockmen walk around like gentlemen, but there might be another possible future where the Grackacks have taken over completely, we could be sitting having tea with only Grackacks for company. Lets just be thankful that all seems peaceful here, wherever on the tree of timelines we are. Um. Thank you for rescuing me, by the way, Julius.
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Even if it was a little unorthodox. So Mr Flynn is not about, then? No, professor. I was on my own. We had a plan. I was disguised as a navy cadet and I was going to make friends with the clockmen so that they would let me see you and I was going to give you Shelleys pocketwatch so that you could time-jump us to safety. It didnt work though. Plans seldom do, in my experience. Still, well done. You got us out of a pickle, said the professor. The best laid plans of mice and men, and all that. The Watchmaker makes the best of every circumference, though. You have done very, very well. Circumference? I beg you pardon, Julius. Circumstance, thats it. The Watchmaker makes the best of every circumstance. The professor sipped his tea thoughtfully for a time. The last time I saw you, you were about to be executed, if I recall correctly. I was doing a bit of spying in the Grackack realm at the time, in my persona as high ranking ofcial in the Ministry of Control and Command. I heard that a violent goblin had been arrested. It was the talk of the townyou made the headlines in a parallel realm, Julius, how many boys can claim that? Somehow I knew I had to take a closer look. Sure enough, when I got to the execution chamber there you were. I had in my mind a daring
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rescue from under their noses using my own pocketwatch. But when you told me that they had Shelleys, I could not leave it there. As you saw, I placed a strand of your hair into a compartment within it. That, my boy, made the timepiece yours. Mine? Yes, that was why you were able to command it to time-jump rather than merely lighting it up like a lucifer. The rst part of my plan went well, I was going to ing you into the future by three years, out of harms way. I was to join you of seconds later to consult and then together we were to time-jump back to our own time butwell that executioner was so furious at the loss of his victim that he threw a spanner at me. Knocked me out cold. At least I think it was a spanner, I saw it for only an instant as it ew towards me. Unfortunately, I had no opportunity to use my Samurai skills on that occasionI was looking forward to a bit of a skirmish. Now my own watch is lost, what an irony. I shall be out of commission for many years thanks to one tiny lapse of concentration. A Watchmaker without a watch is like alike a ddler without a bow. They sat under the oak tree inside the giant glasshouse in silence again. The professor sipped his tea and appeared to be lost in his own thoughts. But enough of that, said the professor, snapping out of his reections. Tell me was happening during
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my connement? Quite a lot, I would imagine. Julius tried to tell the tale of London in the grip of the Grackacks, of Emilys gang, the bare-knuckle bouts with the clockmen, Springheels elevation into high ofce, Mr Flynns part in the whole rescue mission, his own short-lived navel career. The professor appeared to be having trouble concentrating and dropped off into a doze on a couple of occasions. Julius looked at the rings under the professors eyes he looked to be a very tired and sick old man, his vitality seeping out through every pore. Professor? professor? said Julius, gently nudging the Watchmaker. What? Yes? he said, waking startled from his sleep. His eyes darted around for a few moments, trying to recall where he was. The few seconds of alertness tired the old man and he sank back into his seat and sighed. Oh dear, oh dear, I need a long rest, Julius. The wise man knows when he is beaten, aye, my boy? What do you mean, professor? I have been inside the mind of a Grackack, inside a cage for how many years? With only ies and weevils for company. I am worn-out, like an old oily rag cast onto the ash heap. Remember, I told you, Julius, we Tibetans call them hungry ghosts. That is because their minds are like a pack of starving dogs. They
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crave for anything beyond what they have right now. Their minds are never satised to simply be content in the moment, as it were. They always searching, striving, never content or satiated. I tried to ght it, Julius, I really did. Sitting alone in that cage, hour after hour, day and night, I tried to calm my mind, to take it to a place of peace and tranquillity. I concentrated on the simple ebb and ow of my breath, I tried to imagine a blue sky in my mind. I succeeded for a long time butthe effort required was too great. I grew tired. My mind turned into a raging torrent of animal craving. I kicked out and railed against the bars of my cage. Tormenting myself even more, but I could not help myself. II descended into a pit, my boy, a terrifying pit of despair and hatred and frenzied desire to be free. The Grackacks knew what they were doing to me. They knew imprisonment was the worst thing they could do to one of their own kind. They didnt suspect that you were something else? Suspect? That would require imagination, Julius. No, the Grackacks are not very imaginative. Resourceful, yes; cunning, yes. But imaginative? No. They lack the freedom of mind to explore, how shall I put it, possibilities? You saw their judicial system, did you not? They thought you were some kind of supernatural elf or goblin and were going to put an end to you and keep your pocketwatch. That was as
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far as they wished to go in trying to understand the strange events. So what did they make of you, professor, if you appeared to rescue the goblin? I pretended to be as mystied as they were about your disappearance. I concocted a story about how I found my pocketwatch in a second-hand shop and thought it rather amusingthe Grackack watches are larger and less elegant, you see. That was why they were so interested in it. I told them I had heard that a similar pocketwatch had been found and I was eager to investigate. So the judge got his claws on my pocketwatch and cared little more about me than that. He is probably poking at it at this very moment in some other timeline, trying to make it do tricks. I suspect they imprisoned me in the human realm so they would not have to answer any awkward questions about goblins and their rescuers to their own kind. Politics in the Grackack realm is an even more sorry affair than in our own. There are factions waiting to pounce on the United Party in power if there is any show of weakness. If they executed me they would have to draw up a warrant, and they can do nothing without the correct paperwork, you see. But, to make me disappear? They only had to send me over to the newly found Goblin Realm, for that is what they call us, and their problem disappeared. You see, I suspect the United Party are still in control in the Grackack
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London. If so they control access to the portals, only United Party supporters and functionaries are allowed through to do their business. I see. Yes, thankfully the Grackacks are strangers to logic and reasoning. It worked in our favour on his occasion, in a manner of speaking. They remind me of the Middle Ages in our own human realm. I have been there on a number of occasionsa frightening time, my boy. They used to put animals on trial, you know. I went to one such case. Very amusing, though not for the piglet concerned of course. The two sat in silence again for a time. The professor called for more hot water and they drank more tea. Julius looked out the window. The broken masts of the Bountiful could be seen through the top hats of the crowd milling around outside. Dotted around the crowd he could see dazed convicts and crew, both human and clockwork, wandering around like small children lost in a fairground. What do we do now, professor? This is all a bit of a mess isnt it? Oh, its not so bad, Julius. We are in a possible future remember. This is a future where the Grackacks are gone but their inuence remains in the form of the automatons, but these very automatons seem to have thrown off their shackles and taken up a place in society. So all is not bad here, albeit at moments
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glance, I grant you. This timeline only exists when a Watchmaker is in it. Soon after we leave it will disappear, although its path continues of course. I think we can safely make our way out of this timeline without too much concern. In fact this Great Exhibition seems like a wonderful idea. And this building is magnicent. Our own timeline could do with such an event, dont you agree? I thought we were not supposed to interfere in the ow of events, professor. Quite right, my boy, quite right. But, I might just mention it to one or two people when I get back, if I have the time. What do we do now, professor? Well follow your plan, I think, Julius. Well timejump back to before the incursion and x that Springheel blighter once and for all, leaving our timeline as it should be.

~
Julius walked out into the park with the professor leaning on his shoulder for support. Professor? Can I ask a question about Mr Flynn? said Julius Yes, my boy. Have you known him very long? Many years. Let me see? We rst met in a dark
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alley. I was seeing off some rufans sent by the dastardly Count Otto Flick. That was the case of the Crystal Skulls, a very interesting case indeed. Danny Flynn waded into assist. Not that I needed it but it was thoughtful of him in any case. So how long ago was that? What year? Oh, let me think. Gosh, my head is in such a muddle. Do you know anything his past? They came to an area of open ground near a ower bed in the colours of the Union Jack. This will do, said the professor. Do you know anything about him, professor. Yes, of course I do. The Guild of Watchmakers does not employ associates unless they are of a certain calibre and standing, you know? So you know him well? Of course. His integrity, courage, honesty and all that sort of thing are beyond question. Why do you ask? So if he had, I dont know, a secret of some sort, you would know about it? said Julius taking out Shelleys pocketwatch. We all have secrets, Julius. The professor looked closely at Julius. Now look here, if you have something to say I would like you to say it. Danny Flynn is especially fond of you. I know that for a fact. Whatever misunderstanding has occurred while I have
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been imprisoned can easily be settled once we have sorted this little Springheel matter. Hes especially fond of me? Of course. He was waiting around the corner when I picked up the note and the golden key from you. When was that That was Monday 3rd of July in 1837. You appeared in our backyard and enquired about Harrisons diary. Yes, thats right. I remember now. As soon as he saw that the note was signed by a certain Master Julius Higgins. He said, and I quote If that young fellow is in trouble you can count me, professor. He said that there had been a falling out between he and your grandfather before you were born. They have not spoken since, but he wished to make amends by helping youby giving you a chance to shine. When you ran away at our meeting at the Thames with our Grackack friend, it was Danny who insisted on getting you out of harms way and joining us on our little escapade. He did? Yes, thats why he visited you in Clements pawn shop. He wanted to see that you were all rightto persuade you to go home to your grandfather orto come with us. Really? In fact, I had the feeling that what he really
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wanted was for you to join us on the adventure. We did a good job of reeling you in, didnt we, said the professor chuckling. Oh. Glad you came then, Julius? Yes. The professor swayed slightly and put patted his brow with his handkerchief. Are you all right, professor? Im weary, my boy. Lets get the Springheel sorted out and then Ill have a nice long sleep. Now hand me the watch, if you please. Are you sure we should be doing this, professor? Doing what, my boy? Doing a time-jump in plain sight? Of course, of course. It can do no harm. You saw what happened when the Bountiful crash landed in Hyde Park. Everyone thought it was all part of the exhibition. One tiny, little display of time-jumping will be one more piece of entertainment to round off the afternoon. Well, if you think its all right, professor. I do. Trust me, my boy. Time-travelling can become an overly serious business if we dont allow ourselves a little levity from time to time. The professor chuckled to himself then breathed in deeply. His plan seemed be having an invigorating effect on him.
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Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, gather round, gather round. See the invention of the century, called out the professor like a barker at a sideshow. A crowd began to form around the two timetravellers. There was a mixture of innocent expectation and jaded suspicion as people stopped to let the eccentric old gentleman and his rather embarrassed acolyte make their pitch. Thats right, gather round, gather round, come one, come all, see the amazing disappearing feat of Professor Vortex and his able young assistant Antonio de Pontifraxus. Take a bow, Antonio. All eyes turned to Julius who reddened and bowed. To his surprise the crowd politely applauded. The device, if you please, Antonio, said the professor with a theatrical ourish. Julius produced the pocketwatch with a rather less-expert ourish but got another round of applause in any case when he made it bob in the air. And now, for your felicitation, edication and education we will show you the great Tibetan disappearing trick. Ladies and gentlemen, now you see ussoon you wont. Julius noticed a couple of police constables pushing through the crowd. He looked around the full circle and saw more black hats advancing through the crowd.
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Professor, hissed Julius. I think we ought to be going now. What, said the professor as he followed his assistants gaze. Oh, yes. Tempus fugit and all that. And so, without further ado The professor moved to Julius side and hissed. Ill have to do the coordinates for you, my boy. Or the constabulary will be feeling our collars. The audience laughed, appreciating the injection of a little comedy into the proceedings. Oi, old up there, sir. I want a word with you, said a burly constable breaking through the crowd. In a moment, constable, said the professor as he held Juliuss nger and proceeded to tap it at various points. The top and bottom panels opened out and an orange light shone out as the cogs and wheels spun. The crowd clapped and wowed and, thankfully, the constable was momentarily stopped in his tracks in surprise. I bid you adieu, farewell, sayonara and ciao, said the professor lifting his hat and bowing. He took Juliuss hand and said. One more tap for luck, my boy. Toodle-pip, was the last thing the crowd heard the professor say before he and Julius disappeared in a whirlwind of orange light. After a gasp and a few moments of expectant silence the crowd clapped. The applause died away and the crowd waited patiently for the reappearance of the conjurers but eventually
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grew bored and gradually wandered off to see the other attractions. The police constables searched the area in the hope of summonsing them for exhibiting without a permit. But they too gave up, after a couple of hours. Soon after that the timeline faded out if existence like a morning mist as the sun warms up.

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CH A PTER

~
23

Saturday 8th July, 1837

10:36 PM

ulius and the professor landed on the hard but welcoming cobblestones of Cheapside. The young time-traveller expertly rolled over and was on his feet with the watch in his pocket and with only a couple of bruises to show from the cobbles. The professor however, lay on his back not moving. Julius ran to his side. Are you all right, professor? Confound it, he said, more to himself than to Julius. Julius quickly looked around. It was late evening and the sun had recently set. They were in the precincts of St Pauls Cathedralaround the back. Here, let me help you, professor. Thank you, said the professor as he struggled to
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his feet and leaned against the nearby cathedral wall. Im most frightfully sorry, my boy. Whats the matter, professor? He closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath, the stink of the Thames did little help his situation. Julius could see that the professors hands were trembling even more than before. That time-jump seems to have knocked the stufng out of me, he said as he opened his eyes and stared glassily at Julius. Professor? Are you all right? said Julius, taking him by the shoulders. Where are we? Cheapside, were home again. In our own timeI think. The professor massaged his temple with a trembling hand. I need to sit down. Julius led him to some steps leading up to a door where the professor sat down and let out a long sigh. His chest rose and fell as he fought for breath. Im most frightfully sorry about all this, Julius, he said, mopping his brow with his handkerchief. Are you all right? What is it? It would appear that I am not as well I would like to think I am. He paused to breathe. My time as a Grackack in that cageit has taken its toll. I fear I might be dying, Julius. Professor?
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My mind is in confusion, II cannot thinkbut I need totoOh, confound it. Look, professor, Ill get Mr Flynn, hell know what to do. I can run to his house. But I need to be sure, professor. What date did you time-jump us to? What date? ErI cant recall. Let me think. Let me We have to get to Springheel before he makes his rst contact with the Grackacks, remember Clements told us that it was in the early hours of Sunday morning, Sunday the 9th outside the British Museum. Oh yes, now I recall. It is Saturday evening of the 8th of July. Remind me, if you would? Springheel is on the run again after abandoning you on that, on that? Rooftop. Yes. Wait, I should have time-jumped us to Friday morning, round about 10 o clock. That would have given us plenty of time. Now its only a matter of hours until he opens the vortex at the museum. Its all right, professor, we still have timeif we hurry. Damn and blast, a ne Watchmaker. What must you think of me? We have given Springheel a head start. The professor sagged and put his head in his hands. Such confusion in my mind, its whirling
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around like a Dervish. I dont have the strength any more, Juliusits been too long. The summer evening was fading into night. In another fteen minutes or so it would be dark. Julius did not relish leaving the professor sitting there on the steps but could not think of where to take him that was both safe and close by but time was running out if they were to intercept Springheel at the British Museum. Bursting in on his grandfather with the dying professor on his arm did not bear thinking about. Dont worry about me, Julius. Ill be ne. See if you can nd Mr Flynn, hell rally the Fancy and well rush to the museum. Ill wait here, said the professor as he tilted back his top hat to one side and rested his head against the sooty stone wall. Julius ran his ngers through his hair and looked around, trying to think what to do. Ive got it, he said as he slapped his side. Wait there, professor. Ill be back with help in ten minutes, I promise.

~
Julius ran through the streets as the night closed in, intoxicated by a concoction of fear and excitement. He stopped at the ruins of Clementss pawnshop. Sweat ran from his brow as he strained to see in the
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fading light, he felt strong, he could do this. Emily, he whispered as loud as he dared. Emily. There was no reply. He clambered over the rubble, looking in the darkness for a clue. Where would they go at night, Higgins? Where? He clambered back to the street and brushed the brick dust from his clothes. As he did so he saw the laneway. The market, Higgins. She said that Mr Flynn found them hiding in the market. Brilliant work, Higgins. Thank you. Youre welcome. Down the dark alley, he ran. There was no gate to climb over, the marketplace was simply an open square with nothing left to steal once the market stalls had been packed up for the night. There might be a constable doing his rounds but that was all, he hoped. Emily, Emily, he whispered loudly as he ran through the square. He stopped in the centre and looked around. He could be in some Mongolian desert for all he could see in the darkness. Damn and blast, he hissed to himself. But then he felt the weight of Shelleys pocketwatch. It was as if the watch was calling to him. He took it out of his pocket and spun it in the air and tapped the side. A pale yellow light shone around him like a lantern. Emily, Emily, are you there? He ran to the edge of the market with the watch bobbing along above his outstretched hand. Emily, where are you? Emily? A confusion of awnings and broken poles were piled against a wall, it was the only
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hiding place he could see. Emily? he whispered. Are you in there? Its all right, youre not in any trouble, I promise. I have a job for you. A paid jobfor Danny the Duke, no less. A rustling sound emanated from behind the debris. A small, dirty face poked out and was caught in the yellow light. It darted out of sight again. Julius strained his ears. There was a feverish whispered conversation going on in the lair of Emilys gang. He waited, he had found them. At last another face poked out. It was Emilys. Julius remembered with a jolt that she was three years younger than the Emily he had grown to know. He realised that he had been looking forward to seeing her again, but this was a different Emily. Time-travel is a strange business, Higgins, it surely is. Hello again, Emily, he said. Who the bleedin ell are you, mate? Julius stepped closer and squatted down so that her face and his were in the light. We met eryesterday. No, not yesterday. Oh, confound it, I cant remember. Me and my friends wanted to get into Springheels lodgings, remember? He could see that she recognised him but was not going to let on. So? What of it? What dyou want? We aint done nang. You emptied out Springheels rooms before the
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shop fell down, didnt you? More feverish whispering emanated from within the lair. Shaddup, commanded Emily and there was quiet again. She looked piercingly at Julius, at his shining pocketwatch and the amused and friendly expression on his face. What dyou want? she said with slightly less menace and slightly more curiosity than she was used to. I need your help, Emily, youre the only one I can trust to do this.

~
Julius led the curious procession down Warwick Lane and towards the cathedral. Shelleys pocketwatch was shining dimly in his hand and Emily and a very little Harry walked beside him with a gaggle of children skipping excitedly behind. When they got to the steps at the back of the St Pauls, Julius was relieved to see the professor still there. He was snoring, which Julius took to be a good sign. Now I want you all to guard the old gentleman until I get back with Mr Flynn, all right? Some of the smaller children sat on the steps and
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snuggled up against the sleeping time-traveller and proceeded to fall asleep as well. Dont forget, its a shilling each for guarding the old geezer, said Emily with menace creeping back into her voice. Or else. Or else what? said Julius smiling down at Emily in the yellow light. What you smiling about, pox-breath? she said. Someng wrong wiv your face? No, Im just very glad to see you again, even if you are a scruffy, foul-mouthed little goblin this time round. Oi, who you calling a goblin, scab face? she said. But it was too late, Julius was already sprinting towards Mr Flynns lodgings.

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CH A PTER

~
24

Saturday 8th July, 1837

11:32 PM

ulius hammered on the door of Mr Flynns lodgings. Gawd, who is it at this time of night? Be off with you now, said Mrs Mottel from within. Mrs Mottel. Its me, Julius Higgins. Let me in. Julius who? Higgins, we met a few days ago. Im a friend of Mr Flynns. I need his help. Its really most urgent. ang on. He stepped back from the door, and he heard the bolts, locks and latches being disengaged. The door opened a few inches and Mrs Mottels eye lled the gap. She examined him suspiciously. Oh my gawd, it is you, Master iggins, she said,
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inging the door open. Come in, come in. We thought cutthroats ad got you. Mr Flynn will be ever so pleased youre all still in one piece, said Mrs Mottel in her nightdress and shawl with a candlestick in her hand. Julius hurried into the dark hallway and made for the stairs. ang on, Master iggins. Es not well. What? said Julius, stopping in his tracks. I found im on the doorstep yesterday morning. E was in a bad way. The doctor said it was concussion cause by a blunt hobject coming down with considerable force on the back of is ead. Is he all right? The doctor says e needs to rest, Master iggins. Es had a brain fever. Julius turned and ran up the stairs, taking them three at a time. After knocking quietly on Mr Flynns door he listened. Behind him Mrs Mottel was coming up the stairs with her candle. You go in, Master iggins. Ell be that pleased to see you. Julius turned the handle. But dont cause im no hexcitement, mind Doctors orders. Ill do my best, Mrs Mottel, said Julius, stepping into Mr Flynns rooms and closing the door behind him. The re in the hearth was burning low and
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warm. In its glow, slumped in a chair under a blanket, was the sleeping gure of Danny Flynn. There was bandage around his head and he was snoring peacefully. Julius placed his hand on top of Mr Flynns. Mr Flynn, Mr Flynn. Mr Flynn woke with a start and took a couple of seconds to realise who the silhouetted gure blocking the relight was. Julius, he said quietly. Yes, Mr Flynn, its me. Mr Flynn tried to sit up straight. You should be in bed, Mr Flynn. ErI was. Sitting by the re helps me to think andIer If Mrs Mottel knew you were up Ah well, we wont tell her then, will we? said Mr Flynn, looking towards his side table. He took a sip of water from a cut crystal glass then looked Julius up and down. Thank God youre all right. I thoughtIm sorry, Julius. Im more sorry than I can say. Theres no need to No, let me speak. I let you down, showing off, acting the big man and all. I wasnt watching my back, was I? It was Springheel, wasnt it? I promised the professor Id not let anything happen to you if you joined us and then
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Really, Mr Flynn. It doesnt matter. I know everything. The haze in Mr Flynns eyes cleared. He looked up at Juliuss smiling face. Everything? About you wanting me to come on the adventure. About you falling out with grandfather. You know Everything? Oh, I seeIm sorry, Julius, said Mr Flynn. He looked away and ran his nger slowly around the edge of the glass. Oh, cripes. I nearly forgot. The professor needs our help and Springheel is going to contact the Grackacks in a matter of hours outside the British Museum. We have to stop him. Could you get some of the Fancy to help? Hang on, hang on. What are you talking about? Theres not enough time to explain. Ive been to the future. The Grackacks will control London, it was all Springheels doing. The professor will be a prisoner in a prison hulk. You and Emilys gang will help me to rescue him; although that wont go exactly to plan and- Whos Emily? No time to explain that. But, Mr Flynn, I have to say it. You were maaaaag-nif-i-cent. Like a general, like aa hero from a cheap book. You wereblast it, theres no time. Emilys gang is guarding the professor
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right now. Hes very ill. We have to get him here. Can you contact the Watchmakers to come and help him? And then we have to stop Springheel. Theres no time. Well, Ill be a butchers blind dog. Youve changed, and no mistake. Julius stood back so his face could glow in the relight. He felt like a actor on a stage after a truly brilliant soliloquy, just before the audience bursts into applause. He fought the urge to say anything, words would only spoil the moment. That was something the old Julius would have done. Yes, I have, he said, despite himself. Mr Flynn looked up at Julius and nodded his head slowly. So you have, he said. Then he tried to get to his feet. Well, Im not feeling much like a bloody hero at the moment, he said, before collapsing back into the chair. Are you all right, Mr Flynn? Just a spot of dizziness. Ill be ne in a moment and then well get the professor and sort Springheel out once and for all. Ive just remembered. Mrs Mottel said you werent to have any excitement. Excitement is the very bloody thing I need, said Mr Flynn, inging the blanket aside and trying to stand up again, but falling down instead. I think you might have to rest for a bit longer, Mr Flynn.
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But the professor needs me. I know, look, Ill bring him here. Well muster the Fancy and take a convoy of cabs to the British Museum andoh, Ill need a few shillings for a cab though. Is there a cab-stand nearby? Ill need a four wheeler to collect the professor and t Emilys gang in as well.

~
When Juliuss four-wheeled cabriolet pulled up at the back of St Pauls he was very pleased to see Emilys gang still on guard duty around the sleeping professor. Julius leapt down from the cab and ran to the doorway. Well done, Emily, he whispered so as not to wake the old man and the smaller children. Cough up, said Emily from behind an outstretched hand. Theres been a change of plans. Mr Flynn is indisposed. Well going to him instead. Emilys brow furrowed alarmingly. Her cohorts, the ones who were awake, looked at her, awaiting her instructions. Look, its all right. Mrs Mottel will make crumpets for everyone, theres a warm re and therell be two shilling for everyone, Mr Flynn said so. Hes ever so grateful that youre all helping us. Did e say crumpets? said one of the urchins.
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Shaddup, Im nking, said Emily. Julius and Emily stared at one another. Two shilling each? Thats right, and a warm re and Yeah, yeah, I eard you the rst time. Emilys eyes narrowed. She surveyed the sleeping urchins while she thought it over for what, to Julius, seemed like an eternity. All right, well go wiv you, she said. A cheer erupted among the urchins who were awake. This woke the sleeping urchins and the professor. But, if youre lying to me, youll regret it for as long as you live. Got it? Got it, said Julius with a smile. Lets get in then. The urchins helped the professor into the cab and they all squeezed in after him. Julius gave Mr Flynns address to the cabbie then climbed in and wedged himself in the corner. The cabbie icked the reins and the horses began to trot. The professor was sitting with three of the urchins piled on his lap. Arms and legs stuck out in all directionsthey were all squashed into the small space like crabs in a shermans net. Pull down the blinds, just in case, said Julius, before taking out the Shelleys pocketwatch and tapping its side. It bobbed in the air, lighting and warming the faces of the urchins as the cab moved through the night.
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Going on a jaunt? Very nice, said the professor, in a semiconscious daze, from beneath the pile of children. One of them started to sing and soon they were all joining in while the professor sank into a deep sleep. Suddenly the cab lurched to the side. The horses whinnied loudly and the cabbie let out a stream of curses. Whats appening? said one of the urchins. The carriage lurched to a halt. Sounds of an altercation at the cabbies seat could be heard outside. The children held their breath and listened. There was a groan and then the sound of a something heavy falling on the cobbles. Before Julius could think of what to do the cab pitched to the side as if someone heavy were climbing up to the cabbies seat. A whip crack was followed by the carriage lurching forward, throwing the urchins into a heap on the back seat. The clatter of horses hooves on the cobbles quickened as the whip cracks continued. Julius squeezed through the bodies and pulled up the blind and pulled down the window. Careful, said Emily as Julius leaned out to look up at the cabbies seat. There, in the light of the drivers lamp was Jack Springheel, smiling down at him. He nearly fell out of the window with fright. Springheel lifted his top hat and bowed his head. Welcome back, Julius, he said.
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Julius bolted back into the cab and pulled up the window. What is it? said Emily. Um, theres been a change of plan. ErOh, cripes. Julius looked at the sleeping professor then down at the cobblestones rushing past below, the carriage was moving too fast to jump for it. Emily grabbed Juliuss collar and pulled him close. Whats appening? Julius snatched the pocketwatch from the air and put it in Emilys hand. Emily, hide this. Whatever happens, you mustnt let Springheel know you have the watch. Do you understand? Its very important, hell do anything to get it. Emily looked at the watch in her hand. Harry moved closer. Its magic or something, is it? he said. Lets just say its dangerous, dangerous in the wrong hands, that is. And that toff, Springheel, is the wrong hands? Most denitely. The carriage pitched to the side again, throwing them all to the left and then to the right as the cab righted itself. Weve turned a corner. Where we going? said Harry.
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I wish I knew, said Julius. The carriage careened through the dark streets of London with Julius and the urchins being thrown about like lottery tickets in a tombola. Eventually they came to a halt. Julius and the urchins waited, listening. When e opens the door everyone out nice and slow and then when I give the word we bolt, whispered Emily. The urchins nodded and waited for the door to open. They were used to escaping from policemen, beadles, factory agents and the likethis should be no problem. The carriage pitched to the side as someone climbed down from the drivers seat and lifted the coach lamp from its bracket. The yellow light lit up the urchins faces. Jack Springheel stood on the other side of the window and studied them as if they were an exhibit in a glass case. Everyone held their breath. After a few seconds Springheel tapped the window with the tip of his cane. Pull the blind down, Julius, theres a good chap, he said in such a quiet but menacing tone that it froze the blood in Juliuss veins. For the couple of seconds it took for Julius to take hold of the cord and pull the blind down, his eyes were locked on Springheels. The coach lamps light gave the villains skin a deathly pallor but his eyes glistened with barely suppressed rage. When the blind came down Julius and his companions were in
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darkness again. He felt a wave of nausea coming up from his toes. One of the urchins started to cry, but he stopped when Emily harshly shushed him. Whats going on? she hissed into Juliuss face. IIm not sure. Just do as I say, all right? Ill get us out of this, I promise. Before Emily could argue the point, the carriage lurched forward and they were all thrown back again. They seemed to be climbing a series of wide and shallow steps. The horses were whinnying and snorting with the effort as the whip cracked. There was a resounding creak like massive doors being opened and the carriage proceeded on level ground with the sound of the horses hooves echoing all around them like thunder. In a matter of seconds the carriage stopped and the cab pitched to the side as the second man climbed down from the drivers seat, grunting with exertion. Julius and the urchins stained their ears to hear mufed whispers and the sound of table or chair legs being dragged along a tiled oor. Then there were no sounds for a while, except for the breathing of the urchins and the occasional contented snores of the professor. A tap on the window made them all jump. Julius swallowed hard and lifted the blind. The tip of Springheels sword blade was resting against the window pane. Warm orange candlelight suffused the air around the gure of Jack
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Springheel. He studied the carriage full of urchins through half closed eyelids. In panic, one of the urchins pulled up the blind on the opposite window. They all turned to see Clements standing there with a int-lock pistol in his out stretched hand. You try to double cross, Jack Springheel, said Jack Springheel, and you learn the true meaning of the word regret, Julius Higgins. I didnt There is nothing to be said, Julius. You have let me down and are no longer a partner in our little venture, said Springheel, opening the door. As quick as a hawk after a baby rabbit Springheel grabbed Emily by the hair, pulled her out of the carriage and held his blade to her throat. You all work for Jack Springheel now. Any disobedience, any attempt to scarper and I cut her head clean off and stick it on a spike, got it? Julius and the urchins could see, without a doubt, that Springheel meant what he said. Look, I can explain everything. I waited on the rooftop for you to Yes, explain it to me, Julius. What are you doing back here if I didnt bring you back? Julius hesitated, trying to decide what he could and could not reveal. We were watching Mr Flynns lodgings to see what hes getting up to when who should we see going
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in there but our old friend, Julius Higgins. The very Julius Higgins who is supposed to be stranded like Robinson Crusoe on a rooftop in a strange new world which I discovered and over which I, and I alone, have complete rights and privileges. Isnt that right, Mr Clements? Thats right, Mr Springheel, said Clements, the pistol trembling in his grip. Youre up to something, Julius. You and that Irish rufan. Julius could think of nothing to say that would not make the situation even worse than it already was. He could only stare at Springheel like a mesmerised idiot. Everybody out and sit over there, said Springheel, indicating the ground near the back of the carriage. The urchins obediently scrambled out of the carriage and sat cross legged. Julius stood by the door of the carriage and looked round. The were inside St Pauls Cathedral. The chairs had been scattered and candle sticks arranged to form a circle of light, beyond them were shadows of columns and ornate walls and ceilings. The air was as still as the grave. Within the circle of candlelight stood a small table. On the table Julius saw the Springheel Shaker. It was humming quietly. Whos the old gent? said Springheel nodding towards the last remaining occupant of the carriage.
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His voice echoed throughout the cathedral. By now Clements was standing behind the seated urchins with his int-lock pistol at the ready. Hes in league with Flynn, said Clements as beads of perspiration gathered on his forehead. Theyre all in it together, they sent the boy to spy on us, I tell you. Possibly, my corpulent companion, quite possibly, said Springheel regarding Julius thoughtfully. Where is my watch, Julius? Your watch? You heard me. II left it at Mr Flynns lodgingsfor safekeeping, said Julius ghting the urge to glance at Emily. Springheel held Julius in his gaze. Julius stared back, his face a study of innocence and fear. A highpitched whirring sound from the Springheel Shaker broke the spell. Clements, set the lens, ordered Springheel. What about the guttersnipes? said Clements. What are you talking about, man? Im guarding them. I cant do both, can I? Do I have to do all your thinking for you, Clements? Bring them with you. Set them down over there for heavens sake, said Springheel, pointing to a spot near the Springheel Shaker. Everyone up, come one, move. You heard Mr Springheel, sit over there, said Clements, trying to
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sound like a general commanding his troops. As they moved towards the device Harry slipped into the darkness on the other side of the coach. The children sat in a huddle near the Springheel Shaker. They looked like a bundle of ragsone child was not likely to be missed. Julius was the only one who noticed, because he was counting on having Harry at his side when he nally came up with a plan. Clements, check his pockets, I want that watch, said Springheel. Clements was tinkering with the brass lens. He patted Juliuss pockets, all the while keeping the pistol pointed at his chest. Julius could hear the pawnbrokers heavy breathing and smell the stale cigars. Nothing, not a farthing, said Clements. Never mind, well pay a call on Mr Flynn when we are nished here and redeem our property, kill two birds with one stone as it were, said Springheel with a cold chuckle. Pull the switch, Clements. Its time for our young friends to earn their keep. What are you going to do? said Julius following Clements. Get back, said the pawnbroker, shaking the pistol at Julius until he retreated one step. Clements then turned a small brass switch on the Springheel Shaker and the whirring noise quickened. A moment later the contraption lifted off the table and hovered in the air. The urchins stated to mutter among themselves.
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The Springheel Shaker is working to perfection now; no more vibration problems to speak of. It is time to nd out more about this new world. This time however I will have a whole gaggle of thieves to do my bidding, said Springheel looking down at the urchins. I was going to do it at the British Museum but bumping into you, so to speak, has changed my plan somewhat. No wait, said Julius. You cant send them into the Grackack realm, its too dangerous. Grackack realm? It has a name then, Julius? I knew you were a spy. Look, its a very dangerous place, especially for a small child. Id have been executed myself but for Yes? But for Shelleys pocketwatch. What did you say, said Springheel, as he tightened his grip on Emilys hair. I know how to make it work. I travelled into the future, thats where Ive been. I lived in London in the future. There werewill be Grackacks everywherejust like the one you manifested in your room. They have ying machines andand weapons and they can build machines with clockwork mechanisms. Julius had Springheels and Clementss attention. But the Springheel Shaker changed its vibration and the vortex began to form. The machines whirring and
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ticking echoed through the cathedral, and the power of the vortex stirred up a wind that rushed around the group making the candles icker and ght for life. And you, Mr Springheel, will become a rich man. Richer than Queen Victoria, shouted Julius about the roar of the wind. There, I knew wed do it, Springheel. Richer than kings, just like you said, said Clements. But you wont share in the wealth, Clements. What? Springheel will betray you. I know, I spoke, I mean I will speak to you. Youll be alone and penniless while he becomes the richest and most powerful man in England. Springheel? said Clements like a hurt child. Is that true? Clements, you fool. Dont you see what the boy is trying to do? Emily, the watch, called out Julius while Springheel was momentarily distracted. Emily took the watch from her pocket and tossed it to Julius. He spun it in the air and tapped it twice. Clear blue light shone out from it, forming a sphere within the candlelight circle. Springheel pulled Emily closer to him and brought the sword to her throat. Give it to me, or the girl dies right now. And Ill smash the watch into a million pieces. Springheel hesitated.
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And Ill smash this infernal machine into a million pieces as well, shouted Julius above the growing noise as he faced the table and got ready to kick it. Wait, said Springheel. Julius tapped the watch again and the top and bottom opened out to reveal the spinning cogs and wheels. Springheel gasped. I can show you how to travel in time, Clements, said Julius. You dont need Springheel, hell only cheat you in the end. Clements stared at ithis pistol fell to his side. Through the vortex they could see the interior of a Grackack cathedral. It too was lit up with candles and Grackacks were staring into the vortex in amazement. Let the girl go or Ill destroy the machine, said Julius. You wouldnt dare. Clements, take a hold of him, said Springheel. Clements took a step towards Julius. Stop. Remember what I said, Clements? Springheel will betray you. He always intended to. Dont listen to him, hes lying. Look through the vortex you fool. There are riches just waiting to be harvested. Clements stopped and gazed longingly through the vortex. A cadaverous Grackack bishop stared back at him in wonder.
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I can prove that hell betray you, Clements, said Julius. How? Dont listen to him, Clements, you fool. Cant you see what hes trying to do? Tell me, Higgins, said Clements, as perspiration ran down his face. You will tell me that Springheel told Mary Shelley a story while they were staying at Lake Geneva. She used the story to write her book, Frankenstein. Springheel was furious that she took the credit for his idea. Thats right, he was, said Clements, not quite putting all the pieces together. You could have told him that at anytime, Clements, said Springheel, as his body tensed with rage. To his right the carriage creaked slightly and the far side door latch clicked open. But I didnt, Springheel, retorted Clements like a schoolboy defending his innocence. How can you be sure? You could have told him and forgotten all about it. But I didnt, I tell you. Hell leave you high and dry, Clements, said Julius. Ill speak to you in the snug of the Queen Bess. Youll be alone and penniless. Mr Flynn will buy you a brandy. Youll be happy to get your revenge on Springheel, but it will be too late by then.
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I warn you, Julius. Shut up or Ill slit the girls throat, shouted Springheel. Do it, shouted Julius. And Ill destroy the Springheel Shaker and Shelleys watch. Nothing will stop me from stopping you. Clements, stop him, man. Clements snapped to his senses. He lifted the intlock pistol and with a trembling hand pointed it at Springheel. We were supposed to be partners. After all Ive done for you. I paid for every stitch you wear. I paid for those infernal watchmaking books. And all that time- You fool, Clements. Put that pistol down. On guard, sir, cried out the professor as he leapt off the carriage step with his cane sword in hand. Springheel turned towards the advancing Watchmaker and icked his own cane sword to his defence. Emily used the moment of inattention to twist around and bite into Springheels hand. He let out a cry of pain, Emily ducked down and Clements red a shot. Springheel reeled backwards clutching his shoulder, and Julius kicked hard at the Springheel Shaker. It fell to the tiled oor with a crash. The vortex closed in and disappeared in a matter of seconds. Emily ran to Juliuss arms. The professor became faint and Harry helped him to sit down on the carriage step. Clements, breathing hard, walked cautiously
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towards Jack Springheel as he writhed on the oor with blood spilling from his left shoulder. The pawnbroker looked down at his business partner as if he were trying to think of something to say. What you tell im, to do me in for? said Emily. I fort we was friends. We are, said Julius. We denitely are. Why then? I wouldnt have let him do it, but I had to make him think I was mad enough to let him kill you. He believed me, for a few seconds at least, but it was long enough. There was no other way. Good gracious, said the professor, rubbing his temples. He slumped back against the carriage and looked around for the rst time. Where the deuce am I? Were inside St Pauls Cathedral, professor, said Julius approaching with Emily and the urchins behind him. Shelleys pocketwatch bobbed above his outstretched hand. You saved the day, leaping out of the carriage with your sword like that. It was me who woke the old gent up, said Harry, a little hurt. Yes, of course, well done, my boy, said the professor patting Harry on the shoulder. Now, Julius, I can only assume that the man with the bullet in his shoulder is Mr Springheel? And the gentleman with the pistol in his hand?
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Thats Clements, professor. Of course, of course. You have done very well. Danny was right to have such condence in you, said the professor standing up and re-sheathing his sword. But now, I think we might need some assistance. The timepiece, if you please? Julius extended his hand with the watch bobbing above it. The blue light lit up the professors grey eyes as he tapped the side of the watch in a series of beats. The Guild of Watchmakers will sort things out from here, he said, before giving one nal tap. The watchs light changed to a pale green and grew in intensity as tendrils of light shot out in ten directions. Julius and the urchins had to shield their eyes as the whole cathedral lit up and the air crackled with electricity. A blast of light occurred near the smashed Springheel Shaker, another close byten ashes all in quick succession. When the green light faded to a faint luminescence Julius lowered his hand to see ten gentlemen in top hats and frockcoats standing in a semicircle before him. The gentlemen tipped their hats and looked around to take in the scene. Welcome, my brothers, said the professor, getting to his feet. Julius, my boy, come. I will introduce you to the Guild of Watchmakers.

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CH A PTER

~
25

Sunday 9th July, 1837

3:22 PM

t mid-afternoon, the next day, Julius, Mr Flynn, the professor and the ten Watchmakers sat in the nave of St Pauls listening to Evensong. The choristers, in their choir stalls, read their scores by the light from their lectern lamps while the organist played the Grand Organits heavenly music rebounding from the cathedrals stone pillars and walls. Julius was extraordinarily tired and exhilarated at the same time. He had not slept at all the previous night. The Watchmakers appearance in St Pauls had only been the beginning. There was the carriage to extricate and the injured cabbie to nd. The door of the cathedral to x. There was Springheel to be bandaged and handcuffed and the Springheel Shaker to be
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well and truly destroyed. Clements was the easiest piece of the puzzle to be put back in the box. The Watchmakers allowed him walk out of the cathedral and into the night. Just as he was leaving he had turned to Julius and said. He was going to betray me, wasnt he? Julius had nodded his head. I suppose I always knew he would, in my guts. Mr Flynn had volunteered to place Emily and her gang of orphans into schools and the Guild of Watchmakers agreed to donate the money required for their educations and upbringing. Mrs Mottel and Kitty had lled them up with crumpets and beef tea until they fell asleep around Mr Flynns replace. When the last note of Evensong rose up and faded away into the dome of St Pauls, Julius and his friends sat imbibing the silence. Then the professor took the golden key from his waistcoat pocket and leaned closer to Julius. Once again, well done, my boy. The vortex has been closed and London is safe from the Grackacks. The other timeline will is fading away to become a potential timeline. The good people of London will never know what you did for them, but we, the Watchmakers will never forget it. Here, here, said the Watchmakers, tapping their canes on the oor in applause. Julius blushed with pride. And now, Julius, said the professor. It is time
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to hide the Shelleys timepiece where Lord Byron intendedin full view of any beggar or baronet who wished to seeand yet as safe as if it were buried under a mountain. The professor handed the key to Mr Flynn. Would you do the honours, Danny? It would be a pleasure, professor, said Mr Flynn. Oh, and Julius, would you mind accompanying, Mr Flynn. We Watchmakers have a small matter to discuss before we depart. Julius looked at the Watchmakers seated around him. They were all cast from the same mould as the professordistinguished gentleman, beautifully attired, with top hats and silk handkerchiefs but, at this precise moment they were all grinning like mischievous boys. Very well, professor, said Julius, rising to follow Mr Flynn towards one side of the Grand Organ. The carved cherubs smiled down at the choir boys as they led out of the choir stalls, chattering and jostling one another. When the last of them was gone Mr Flynn glanced around to check that no one was looking. This way, he whispered, and walked up the narrow stairway leading to the back of the organ. Julius quickly looked around and then followed. He could hear Mr Flynn counting the steps as he climbed. At the back of the organ Mr Flynn sat on step number fourteen and ran his hand along the grain of
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the wood-panelling at the back of the organ. Julius watched. Mr Flynn winked at him. Its here somewhere, he whispered. He reached further up and ran his ngers along the grain again. Julius was just about to ask him what he was doing when Mr Flynns ngers stopped and retraced their path across the wooden surface. Found it, he whispered. He took the golden key from his waistcoat pocket and inserted it in a narrow gap in the wood which was hidden from the eye by the line of dark grain. Mr Flynn turned the key. Julius heard a click, then another. Then a tiny drawer shot out as if on a spring. Mr Flynn smiled down at Julius and beckoned him up to look closer. Inside the drawer, it was lined with red velvet and had a circular indentation at its base to hold the watch. This will be the timepieces home until a new Watchmaker can be found, Julius, said Mr Flynn. Would you do the honours? Julius took the pocketwatch from his jacket. It tted perfectly in the palm of his hand. It felt warm and he could sense its ticking vibration at the tips of his ngers. Suddenly Julius did not want to let it gohe did not want to be without it. There was still a strand of his hair is one of the tiny drawers. Mr Flynns hand touched his shoulder as if to reassure him.
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He placed the pocketwatch in the drawer, letting his ngertips linger on its face. Then, taking a deep breath, he pulled his hand awayit was like relinquishing a part of himself. Mr Flynn pushed the drawer closed and locked it. The golden key went back into his waistcoat pocket and he and Julius sat for a time in the stillness and silence.

~
When Julius and Mr Flynn rejoined the Watchmakers they found that the professor had fallen asleep. One of the Watchmakers gently shook his shoulder and whispered into his ear. The professor jolted into wakefulness and let out a weary sigh, but he smiled when he noticed that Julius had returned and placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it as much of a squeeze as his weakened state would allow. Julius, my boy, said the professor. We, the Guild of Watchmakers, have decided that you will inherit Shelleys timepiece. Me? YesIn short, we invite you to become one of usto join the Guild. Julius stared at the professor. He mouth opened but nothing came out. One of the Watchmakers chuckled. When is it time to begin your apprenticeship we will come and knock on your door, Julius, said the
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professor. And Mr Flynn, I ask you to be custodian of the golden key in our absence. Keep it safe until we return. I certainly will, professor, said Mr Flynn, then patted Julius on the back. Well done, Julius. The professors tired grey eyes looked into Juliuss. So, my boy. This is good bye. I will be taking a long rest while a new timepiece is made for me. There is a skilled artisan in the souk in MarrakeshI believe he will be up to the task. It will take many years but then again I will need many years before I am my old self again. Julius felt his nose begin to tinglea sure sign that tears were on their way. It has been a pleasure to know you, Julius, I owe you my life, said the professor. He sniffed and dapped his nose with his handkerchief and then turned and nodded to the Watchmaker beside him. The Watchmaker assisted the professor to his feet and then all the Watchmakers stood. We, the Guild of Watchmakers, salute you, he said, and in one graceful movement they all lifted their top hats and bowed their heads.

~
As Mr Flynn walked him home, Julius skipped along as if he was six years old again. When will I be ready
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to begin my training, do you think, Mr Flynn? The Guild will decide that. Theyll come tapping on your back parlour window, just like the professor did all that time ago. Suddenly, the bells of St Pauls rang out across the forecourt and the whole of London. Their interweaving peels were like a cheer, rousing the pigeons to ight, and lifting Juliuss heart as if it too had wings. Nothing will ever be as perfect as this moment right now, Higgins. Absolutely nothing. Julius could feel Harrisons diary under his jacket, it was tucked into his trousers and wedged under his left elbow. He had managed to get it back from Harry without anyone knowing. The time had come to say what he had been rehearsing in his head over and over againto tell Mr Flynn that he knew that he was his fatheras the bells of St Pauls rang out to celebrate the moment. But the courage would not come. He had battled, Grackacks and clockmen; he had travelled the time and space, let alone across the ocean, but the courage to say the words would not come. Two more steps and then say it, Higgins. Julius walked two steps. When youve passed that doorway say it, Higgins. He passed the doorway. Say something, Higgins!
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I found out why you and grandfather fell out, Mr Flynn. Mr Flynn stopped in mid-step. I pieced it together andand the other Mr Flynn, he as good as told me. I see. But it doesnt change anything. You came back, thats what matters. I sorry you had to nd out. Im that ashamed of myself. Im glad I did. There shouldnt be secrets between us, Mr Flynn. Not after what weve been through. Youre right, of course, said Mr Flynn. Tell me about it, said Julius clutching the diary under his jacket. When Mr Flynn admitted that he was his father Julius could produce and diary and admit that he had been hiding it all the time. Mr Flynn began to walk again. Slower this time. I betrayed your grandfather. He never really got over it. I cant blame him really. Juliuss heart raced in anticipation. Before you were born, your grandfather, Gussy Higgins, was a swell in the bare-knuckle boxing world. He welcomed me when I arrived here from Dublin. Welcomed me into his family, introduced me to his wife and daughter. My mother? said Julius. Yes.
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What was she like? Oh, you knowa very good hearted sort of girl. Her shoulders would shake when she laughedwhich was most of the time. Anyway, it was over a ght, against the then champion, Douglas Dyson. A ght? said Julius. Yes. It was my rst big ght against a real opponent. All the smart money was going on Dyson to win. That was until your grandfather began to place bets all over London for me to win. He had a lot of condence in me, you see. So the odds changed. They were high for me to win and low for Dyson. Julius clutched the diary, waiting to hear more about his mother. I wasnt as condent as Gussy that I could win, soI got our old friend Clements to secretly bet against me with my own money. The odds were 60-1 for me to loose. Well, to cut a long story short, Ier, I threw the ght. Mr Flynn paused. The memory seemed to be causing him physical pain. I made a packet, but your grandfather lost all the money he wageredwhich was pretty much all he had. When I realised what Id done I tried to give him my winnings but he wouldnt accept. He couldnt get over my betrayalnever spoke to me again after that. He left the bare-knuckle boxing world and never came back. Julius looked down the street. He could see the
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bookshop sign. The diary was hard against his ribs, he clutched it tighter. Im sorry, Julius, said Mr Flynn. Thats all rightI meanII already knew, of course. Julius stood in the busy street, numb and motionless, like a rock in a fast moving stream. The bells had stopped. What did you do then? said Julius, to break the agonising silence. I was going to go back to Dublin. But something happened. I met the professor. That changed everything. How? I heard sounds in the dark when I was on my way home from work at the warehouse. I knew the sound of a ght when I heard it and thought someone might need my help. I followed the sounds to a side street where I saw the professor having a battle with a gang of rufans. I watched for a whileI was very impressed. The professor, is a fully trained samurai warrior, you know, not that I knew that at the time. I stood and watched him almost dance with them. He was spinning around, rst one way then another. With each spin one of them was left at on his back. But I jumped in to help him out anyway. I wanted to meet the man who could ght and smile at the same time. And that, as they say in the stories, was that.
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Ive been assisting the professor in one way or another since then, trying to lead a life I could be proud of. Mr Flynn looked at Juliuss down-turned head and coughed uncomfortably. So, there you have itAll of it, he said. Julius looked at the dark cobblestones in Mr Flynns shadow. He was trying not to cry, his knuckles were white as he they gripped the diary. He had been so ready be Mr Flynns son. The silence between them grew, forming a vacuum around them. Julius stared along the street, trying to look as if his heart was not being wrenched from his body. He felt Mr Flynns hand on his shoulder for too brief a moment. The touch resounded through his body although it was as gentle as a falling leaf. Your grandfather was a different man, before I cheated him. It left him bitter andsmall. Im sorry you couldnt have known him before, that you couldnt have grown up in a happier home. I wanted you to have an adventureto make up for what I did. Stupid idea. Mr Flynn hesitated. Im sorry, Julius. He stood as if he wanted to say more, but turned and walking away. Julius felt a spasm of grief ood over him. He kicked it down with a rage that was equal to it. When it was safe to do so, he watched Mr Flynn walking away. There is was, the dented top hat at a tilt on his
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head; those shoulders so broad and kind. How can shoulders be kind, Higgins? Julius watched him moving further away, soon to be subsumed into the crowd. His movements were graceful but slow, reluctant and sad. In that moment Julius felt a blow, like a punch to his stomach. It was the thought of never seeing Mr Flynn ever again. Or worse, of them seeing each other in the street but pretending not to. Or stopping and speaking those painful meaningless words that are only slightly less painful than the words they disguise. Mr Flynn, Mr Flynn, he called out as he ran. Mr Flynn stopped and his shoulders rounded slightly as he turned with a questioning glance. Come to tea on Sunday. Julius could not wait for Mr Flynn to formulate a reply. Three oclock. Is that a good idea, Julius? said Mr Flynn sadly. Yes. Well have crumpets. Crumpets, is it? And warm cheese scones with butter melting on top. Nothings better than that, is it, Mr Flynn? What do you think your grandfather say when I turn up for tea? Hell be delighted to see you, honestly. And hell be delighted with me for inviting you. Hell skin you alive, Higgins.
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Mr Flynn hesitated. Cheese scones? Please come. Mr Flynns face relaxed into gentle resignation. He lifted his top hat and bowed to Julius. Id be honoured, Julius Higgins. Three oclock, it is. Then he turned and bounded away with enough spring in his step to power a steam-ship. Julius wiped the moisture away from his eyes and watched until Mr Flynn had disappeared into the crowd. They could have him, for now. Julius felt equal portions of happiness and sadness wrapping their arms around him in a loving embrace, reminding him of Emilys soft, wet kiss. He fumbled in his pockets for his door key, then marched to the door of Higgins Booksellers. He hesitated, spat on his hand and ran it through his fringe. Remember, Higgins, a Watchmaker makes the best of every circumference. He turned the key in the lock, took a deep breath and opened the door.

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Epilogue

What happened to JACK SPRINGHEELThe Watchmakers patched up his shoulder and banished him to a distant timeline in the past on the most remote, uninhabited and windswept island they could nd. After settling in him with supplies they left him to his own devices. About a week later, four very large canoes arrived, lled with people eeing from wars on their own islands thousands of miles away. Jack Springheel had little difculty in convincing them that he was the god of the island and spent the rest of his life being their king. To relieve the mind numbing boredom of island life Springheel set his subjects to carving huge efgies of himself to place about the island. He would while away the long summer evenings strolling around the windswept island admiring the huge statues and
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trying to work out what time it was. Hundreds of years later some European explorers came across the island on Easter Sunday in 1722 and consequently named it Easter Island. By that time the inhabitants had long ago forgotten why hundreds of huge statutes of a long nosed god were dotted around the island. It has remained a mystery ever since. EMILYEmily received an education at a nishing school in Paris, compliments of the Guild of Watchmakers. When she returned to England she married a quiet and kind-hearted barrister named Richard Pankhurst, because he reminded her of a boy she once knew. She spent most of her life ghting for rights for women and used many of the tactics she learned on the streets of Cheapside to achieve this. Her married name was Emily Pankhurst. HARRYHarry received an education at the Normal School of Science, compliments of the Guild of Watchmakers. He went to be a prolic writer specialising in fantastical stories that no one believed. Perhaps his most famous novel was The Time Machine. He wrote under the name of H G Wells. DODGERDodger took exception to being educated and ran away back to the streets of Cheapside to resume his career as a pick-pocket. I suggest you
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read Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens to see how he and the arch criminal Bill Sykes fared.

A few final words

I think that, as a subject, history is too fascinating, interesting and intriguing to be contained in history books alone. With that in mind, I have borrowed real people and events from the past and placed them in Julius and the Watchmaker. I am sure historians will not mind this borrowing as I do this in the hope that fans of Julius and the Watchmaker will now read more history books, as they are great fun. Here are my borrowings Dr John Dee (15271608/9) was a mathematician, alchemist, astronomer, astrologer, scientist, spy, political strategist and inventor. In his retirement, the good doctor lived in obscurity at his home in Mortlake with over 4000 books at his disposal. He really did try to make a perpetual motion machine. Unfortunately he did not achieve perpetual motion, let alone timetravel. Spring-heeled Jack An urban legend concerning a demonic trickster rst saw the light of day in 1837. Newspapers all across the United Kingdom reported
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him variously as having the appearance of a gentleman, being able to leap great heights, breathing ames and possessing metallic claws. The Jack Springheel of this story has nothing to do with Spring-heeled Jack but I thought I would borrow the name. I hope the real Spring-heeled Jack will not mind. Charles Vivien There really was a boat-boy named Charles Vivien who died with the poet Shelley on that schooner off the Italian coast. He was probably a very good and well-meaning boy who would not have had anything to do with time-crime. Percy Bysshe Shelley (17921822) Apparently the poet, Shelley saw his doppelgnger shortly before his death. He took it as a portent of doom. I like to think it was as the result of experimenting with a timemachine in the form of a pocketwatch. Lord Byron (17881824) was a friend of Shelleys and did indeed travel with him and his wife, Mary for a time before sailing to Greece to ght in their struggle for independence against the Ottoman Empire. He is an national hero in Greece to this day. Mary Shelley (17971851) was the wife of the poet, Shelley. At the age of 19, while holidaying at Lake Geneva, she came up with the idea for a book which
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she named, Frankenstein. She claimed to have thought it up all by herself. John Harrison (16931776) was the inventor of the chronometer, and probably the greatest watchmaker of all time. I suggest you read Dava Sobels excellent and exceedingly entertaining book, Longitude: The True Story of a Lone Genius Who Solved the Greatest Scientic Problem in His Time. It gives a riveting account of Harrisons life and his struggle to invent the rst completely accurate and reliable timepiece. My only quibble with the book would be that it makes no mention of his diary or of the time-machine he secretly made. The City of London School The school really did exist on Milk Street in 1837. I could not nd the names, Julius Higgins or Christopher (Crimper) McCready on its register so I had to use my imagination to enrol them. The Great Exhibition Professor Fox must have stayed true to his word and mentioned it to a few people because our timeline had its own exhibition in Hyde Park, London in 1851. It was the most spectacular exhibition of human ingenuity and achievement ever held. I would not be surprised if a few timetravellers got up to some mischief while attending it.
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The Mutiny on the Bounty An ofcer named Fletcher Christian led a mutiny against Captain Bligh onboard the Bounty in 1789. Unlike Christian Machines attempted mutiny on the Bountiful, the historical one was a success, of sorts, and the descendents of the mutineers still live on Pitcairn Island to this day.

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Glossary of Victorian Slang

beak magistrate blue-bottle police constable chavy child to church the le the identifying marks from a watch cove man to do down to beat dipper Pickpocket duce tuppence jerryshop pawnshop half-inch to pinch/ steal lucifera match the Family the criminal underworld the Fancy the bare-knuckle boxing fraternity mace condence trickster mark victim neddy cosh peeler police constable rozzer police constable salts sailors swella gentleman

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