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

Thankfully it was but a short cab ride from West Norwood to our home at the top of Sydenham Hill. This was a blessed relief on two accounts, the current state of my wife and the fact that our driver was plainly keen to get rid of us and our recently acquired weaponry. I must admit I was not overly happy to have the guns in the house, but it was too now late in the day to journey back into the city to deliver to Chief Meeds at the Admiralty or even over to Bertie at Hobbes' house.

So into the house they would have to go, there was alas little choice to be made. The trick of course would be to keep Elspeth well away from the pair of them (thankfully there were no other guns currently in the house) and coming over all unnecessary again. As mentioned elsewhere I'm informed from numerous journals and post-expectant fathers that pregnancy does things to a woman, more often that not affecting their dietary requirements. I was well prepared for these eventualities, having had Millie and Cook purchase all sorts of unlikely food stuffs. What I could not have foreseen was how being with child would have heightened Elspeth's peccadilloes and her mood swings. I made a mental note to myself to discuss this delicate situation with Hobbes; he would know what to do. Failing that, perhaps now would be a good time after all to talk about childbirth and the future nanny requirements with Mary.

We must have made an interesting site as we staggered from the cab to the front door. Thankfully Millie was watching and waiting, though I'm not sure how long she had been doing so, as she had been expecting us back the day before. She said nothing as I handed her tired mistress over to her care and went back to help the driver with our travelling bags and armaments. I caught sight of one of our neighbours walking their dog and gave them a cheery wave. It was most unfortunate that the hand that did than waving was that very same hand currently clasping Bertie’s favourite gun. I’m not still sure who ran the fastest out of the pair of them to get as far away as possible.

'I've had all types in my cab, mister.' Commented the driver as he placed the bags inside the doorway thereby preventing me getting away from him, 'But I think you must be one of the oddest.'

'I thank you for that character assassination, but here's your promised tip nevertheless, Good evening to you.'

The driver stared at the coinage I placed in his hand and smiled 'A jolly good evenin' to you too, sir.'

Propping the elephant gun up against the wall, I proceeded to struggle through the door with the boxed Maxim gun. I pushed the bags with my feet to provide what I thought was a decent enough route though to the hallway. Elspeth's Gladstone obviously did not take to kindly to such rough handling and so contrived to make its revenge swift.

Millie came back down the stairs to see what all the commotion was and, seeing me on the floor surrounded by the bags, rushed promptly to my aid.

'Mr Knolly, are you all right, sir?' She asked as she helped me up. 'Were you attacked?'

I turned to see where she was looking concerned that door was still open.

'No, no. I was just trying to save myself the effort of moving the luggage first, but as you see it was not the wisest thing to do.'

Millie moved Elspeth's bag out of the way, to clear some floor space. 'Is there anything else to come in Mr Knolly, sir?'

'Indeed, you’ll find a gun propped up against the wall.'

This stopped her in her tracks and her hand flew to her mouth in shock.

'Millie, I know what you are thinking and I’ve already been along those routes. I'll take them to a safer place first thing in the morning, but, for now they will have to stay here the night.'

'They, sir? But you just said a gun...'

I tapped the wooden box next to me with my boot.

'Something a bit more powerful too.'

'Oh sir, whatever next? No wonder madam was in such a state! Whatever were you thinking of?'

All of sudden I was no longer the master of my own household, but a child being chastened once again.

'You know what madam is like normally around guns let alone in her current condition!'

'Millicent, please calm down and remember your place! I'm well aware of my wife's condition, but I thank you for your concern. Now if you'll take the bags upstairs and unpack, I will deal with the unwelcome firearms.'

Millie nodded picked up as many of the bags as she could and marched back off up the stairs. I could tell see wasn't best pleased with me, but at least she remembered just in time who paid her once a week.

The question was now, of course, where to put the Maxim and Bertie's gun until the morning. On the journey over I had originally thought about putting them in the kitchen, but after Millie's outburst, Cook's would only be worse. Plus she had knives in the room too. Big knives! So they would have to go out in the garden shed. Millie's anger had quite taken me aback, or perhaps it was a combination of that and my other female attackers earlier in the afternoon and so I decided that a brandy was called for.

I must have nodded off, for the next thing I knew Mille was standing beside me placing a brandy glass back on the table.

'Millie, how is Elspeth?'

'Fast asleep sir, busy day it would seem.'

'Yes, indeed.' Millie fidgeted before me. 'Is something troubling you?'

'Um... Sir, I was wondering about madam's undergarments.'

'Oh, is there a problem?'

'She wouldn't let me take them off her, sir!'

I see, well there's nothing we can do about it now she's asleep is there?'

She looked at her feet, 'No, sir. I suppose not. Don't you think it's odd though, sir?'

'What? Sleeping in your underwear?'

I thought back to times past when both Bertie and I had done that very same thing, due to poor packing, or, situations when on missions for Queen and country, our luggage had been sunk, burnt, blown-up or sometimes all three. I smiled.

Millie smiled back, 'No, sir. No, it's not that. I mean have you seen what she is wearing? I mean madam is clothed but it looks like she's not, you can see all her... femininity!'

'Tell me Millie, have you been talking with John Merrick recently?'

'I don’t understand, sir, but that sort of look may be fine in the theatre, but in the house?'

'Millie, I think you should stop there. You have been with us many years now and seen many strange and unusual things in this house. Yes?'

She nodded.

'Good, well just treat the fact that my wife is currently wearing a spangley white leotard, that Bertie had in his trunks shipped back from Africa which originally belonged to Daphne Acres, a young lady with a theatrical bent and has been doing so all day as one of those strange and unusual things. I know I am; besides I’m sure she'll take it off in the morning. I've never known her wear the same clothes twice in the same month.'

'That’s something else I’m worried about, sir. How do you wash it?'

'Hmm... Well, there you have me, but I’m sure you'll work something out. Now then, were there any letters, messages or callers whilst we were away?'

'Just a few letters sir, no callers.'

'Oh.'

'Well, other than the men delivering the new headboard for your and madams bedroom.'

'I see, and these men were not at all suspicious in any way?'

'Oh, no sir! They were the same chaps that always come from Marshall & Snelgrove's. I think one of them is quite taken with Cook, sir.' I sighed at this.

'You seem disappointed Mr Knolly, sir.'

'Not at all. After the past couple of days I’m glad this house, at least, has seen its fair share of normality. Now, may I see the letters, oh and something to wipe this brandy off my trousers?'

She took the letters from the pocket of her pinafore and handed them to me, and turned to go.

'Millie, I'll move the guns after I've looked through these.'

She stopped at the door. 'Oh sir, I took the liberty of moving them to the garden shed, I didn't want to disturb you.'

I smirked inwardly, 'Thank you, Millie, that will be all for now.'

I poured myself a fresh brandy, and wondered just how strong that girl really was, a real Amazon but such a sweet nature.

There were two letters, one from Archie Trewser and the other from Conan Doyle. Archie's letter seemed to be asking for money in a roundabout way to help fund yet another expedition to Russia sponsored by the Royal Horticultural Society. I was surprised that this venture had got this far after the Giant Hogweed debacle of '93. How soon people forget, I thought, as I put his letter to one side.

The letter from Conan Doyle contained a copy of his letters of introduction to Sir John Murray. He had done a wonderful job with this, a part from the fact that he had given both Bertie and I aliases of his own invention.

'I hope you and Bertie do not mind but I have taken the liberty of introducing you to Sir John under assumed names. I have given you names of characters that I’m currently thinking of using in my latest Holmes adventure. You will be known as Mr Stapleton and Bertie is Mr Barrymore... '

I was sure that Bertie would not be amused by this as he would have come up with much more imaginative names than these, but the deed was now done and these were the names we were stuck with for the duration. So, the sooner we started using them the better. I picked up the letter from Archie again, something was nagging at the back of my mind and I just couldn't put my finger on it.

I decided an early night would be good for me too, as I wanted to get the weapons out of the house as early as possible, ideally before Elspeth was up and about herself. She was still sound asleep as I opened the door to our room. Lying there with the bed clothes thrown to one side, the light from the hallway catching the sparkles covering her body like little stars. Millie was right, the leotard covered the body, but left nothing to one's imagination.

'Well, it certainly looks like it keeps you warm my dear.' I said to no one in particular as I lent over and kissed her. Then a sketch from Monty's diary popped into my head and suddenly I knew why Archie's letter had been bothering me. My birthday gift, the staff of Quitzlelotapoplekettle, my uncle had seen it or something very similar before in 1845, here in England...

The Great Knolly Archive

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