[2022 WATTYS WINNER] | Tracey Higgenbottom, Mr. Porter's witty assistant, finds herself at a dead-end when constables dismiss a case of his possible kidnapping. With the unexpected help of a spunky adventurer, a chimney sweep boy and his sister, and...
Charlie shuffled uncomfortably at the desk and set down the letter opener.
"Ehm...I mean," Charlie stammered, "I was just lookin' to see if he might've had any paperwork. An' this drawer here was locked...so I thought I could just, ya know, jimmy it open?"
"Gears, Charlie," Harriet exclaimed, jumping up from her seat. "How many times have I told you not to break locks?"
"This is a common occurrence?" Bentam asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No," Charlie and Harriet quickly replied. They both exchanged a surreptitious glance to each other.
"Hm," Bentam grunted, his eyes squinting.
"But, uh, look at this!" He reached inside of the drawer and pulled out a strange book. "Look at this fancy book that was in here!" Tracey sighed, pushing back her annoyance before joining the modest crowd that gathered around Charlie.
In Charlie's hands was a book unlike anything Tracey, nor anyone else in the room for that matter, had seen before. On its cover was an elaborate design of gear works, inlaid on a thick wooden surface. The pages were gilded, and its spine sported a similar design of gears. The book was locked.
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"Is this Mr. Porter's record book?" Mittie asked.
"I don't think I've ever seen this book before," Tracey said. "I don't even know how to open this!"
"Perhaps you can break this lock as well, hm?" Bentam said, staring harshly at Charlie.
Charlie gulped and shook his head. "I've never seen a lock like this, that drawer was a piece of cake in comparison. Really, look at all a' those gears!"
"Why would Mr. Porter hide this from me?" Tracey said in bewilderment.
"I suppose that even a Keeper has secrets of their own," Mittie said as she leaned closer to the book. "Maybe we can turn the gears?"
Tracey grappled with the gears to no avail. "They're not moving," she sighed.
"Quick question," Harriet suddenly said from the front of the room. "Were you expecting any motor-mail?"
"No, I only received a combustible note earlier today," Tracey replied, ignoring the reactions of shock from Mittie, Charlie, and Harriet. "Why?"
"I thought—I just thought you may have missed this piece of mail here," she stammered, holding up a peculiar brown sachet. "I found it in the motor-mail."
"May I see it?" Tracey said.
Mittie turned to her. "You got your hands on combustible paper? And ya never thought of mentioning that?"
"I was simply following Bentam's advice—."
"He's in on it too??" Mittie spun to him.
"No, Mittie, she merely informed me of this when she requested a case opening this morning," Bentam calmly responded. " It appears as if we've gotten off track. Let me continue gathering information for this report," he said as he began furiously scrawling on the paper.
