Captain Lord Henry Curtis

(John Williams)

Of the trip around Europe, so far England had been the most interesting for different reasons. First of all, there had been the comet and the meteorite shower. You had been in London then and it was most entertaining watching the people gather in the streets and parks, all eager for the show of light. The newspapers had reported the shower following Aelfred’s Comet for a couple of days, partly to inform but mostly to stop people from worrying about the lights in the sky and bothering the police about them. A few stray trails of fire in the heavens leading the way of the main shower had already got a flurry of calls. God knows what would have happened if the public had not been warned. They might have thought they would all go blind and walking man eating plants would take over the land or something. A number of people had a few rocks crash land in their gardens or through their houses, one even went through the roof of the Greenwich Observatory, and the shower itself played havoc with the radio, causing interference that all but obliterated the BBC’s evening broadcast from Alexander Palace.

Then there had been Carter the Great, back in town after a stint in America. He was a magician of some skill by all accounts but a bit of a showman and known for being keen on excess publicly. Last year he spent six whole hours suspended above the Thames in a wicker basket with little more than a chamber pot and a dry Martini. It was done to provide a spiritual focus for all mankind, according to him. You thought he was an idiot then but when you read his story that he had planned to stop the comet from hitting the earth with the power of positive thought you had upgraded him to a total loon. Still, it provided a source of amusement.

Then thirdly, there was the theft and vicious murder at the British Museum. It was the day after yourself and Elizabeth had been to a celebratory party held there that all of high society had attended. It looked like a burglary went wrong, with the night watchman interrupting the killers and paying for it with his life in a brutal way. The death itself was sickening, though you had seen worse when your were in the army and knew how low some people could go for a little money, but the interesting part was only one item was stolen, the very thing Professor David Garwood, your old friend from your war days, had taken you both aside to show you.

Professor Garwood had thrown the party to celebrate his return from his dig in Egypt excavating ruins of a site called the Temple of the Moon. There had been all sorts of bits and pieces on display which, if you are honest, had only interested you because you thought they might be worth some money – after all, Garwood still owed you that debt from the war. On the plus side Elizabeth seemed intrigued by it all and keeping her happy was your top priority.

 Then Garwood had led you both to a room away from the main party. In hushed tones he explained how he found this particular piece in a tiny sealed room close to the main dig area. In a partially over dramatic flourish, he had pulled away the cover sheet to reveal an item that could only be described as ‘coppery’. It was a couple of feet long by a foot and a half wide, with sides covered with ornate copper artwork and a back with eight dials of various sizes. Garwood was clueless as to what it was or how it functioned, though his main amazement was how un-Egyptian looking it was.

Why the burglars stole that still confuses you. If an expert on such matters cannot fathom its use, what chance could common cutpurses have? And to steal something so unique that it would be near impossible to get rid off was downright bizarre. And it was not something that had looked as if it would get a good price anyway.

            Now you were going to Llangadfan in Wales to view land and property which you had suggested would be ideal as a country retreat for two in a hope Elizabeth would agree to and buy. It was also a good excuse to get out of London – things were going odd in the capital. There had been another vicious murder.

            At midday you reach and enter The Cann Office public house in Llangadfan for a gentle rest and a drink after the long journey. You notice 3 people, a lady and two men, sit at a table with their backs to the wall, almost trying to keep to the shadows. Their actions seem odd, and you wonder what it is they could be afraid of. Two more men enter the pub, one of them seemingly recognising the lady, and they speak in hushed tones. They go silent as the door opens again, and much to your surprise it is Carter the Great himself. You wonder if he is here to do any magic but given his haggard look and rapid glances, you think again. He seems to approach the group furtively, and the man who knew the lady does not look best pleased to see him. Your musings are interrupted as Peter Roberts, an estate agent, joins you.

He has been appointed by the estate of the late Mr Joseph Lewis to sell his land and property and he had planned to show it to you today. However, the key holder has advised him that the chap who recently rented the property for a week has not returned the key and by all accounts may still be there. He is going to speak with the police about removing the trespasser, he says, and if on clue an officer of the law turns up along with a shifty looking fellow. The estate agent goes and speaks with him, interrupting a conversation which looked like it was becoming quite heated.

            A few moments later Roberts comes back, informing you that there would be a number of other people going to the cottage as well. The fellow who rented the cottage has not been in contact with the other group for a while now and they were becoming extremely concerned for him. The only person around at the moment who knew the route through the maze of trees in the forest was the shifty looking chap with the policeman, so with one guide there was no choice but to all go together.

            Setting off with your entourage you all drive in your vehicles to the entrance of the forest before setting off on foot in search of the cottage, the land, and someone called Professor Richard Harker...