The Custodian of Marvels Read Free Page B

kept my eyes away from Fabulo’s pistols, still cocked on the floor. My own pistol lay under the pillow next to me, loaded but not cocked. I shifted closer to it, as if making myself more comfortable.
    There was a faint crackling from the stove and the smell of ardent spirits from Fabulo’s breath. Tinker had curled up on the floor and seemed to be falling asleep. A pleasant domestic scene. The kettle began to rumble.
    “I saw you last evening,” I said. “You were watching from the hedgerow. I’d thought you were a deer. You should have come and introduced yourself.”
    “Would you have welcomed me?”
    “I’d have wanted to know why you’d travelled all the way into Lincolnshire to see me.”
    “Ah. I was working round to that. But, since the pleasantries are out of the way, I may as well ask. There’s an enterprise I’m engaged in that could do with a woman of your talents.”
    “You’re offering me employment?”
    “We’d be partners.”
    “I can’t perform in a circus. You know that. There are bounty hunters looking for me.”
    “Not the circus. If all goes to plan, we’d not be seen. Not by anyone. There’d be payment at the end. Rich payment, at that.”
    “This is thieving then?”
    “We’ll take something, yes. But not from any person. None will be the poorer. You’ve no need to worry your pretty conscience. And there could be money upfront if you say yes. You could dump your cargo in the canal. Let it rot.”
    “If none’s to be poorer, who’ll you be stealing from?”
    “That’s the part you’ll like the best,” he said. “You’ll be stealing from the International Patent Office.”
    Until then I’d thought him foolhardy. But as I heard this, I knew that he was mad. To steal from the Patent Office was certain death.
    As he’d been speaking, I’d inched my hand under the pillow. Now I snatched the pistol and had it cocked before he could reach for his.
    “Elizabeth?”
    “Don’t you know the risk you put me in – coming here and saying such things?”
    “No one’s listening!”
    “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
    “The Patent Office ruined your life,” he said. “I’m offering a way to get even.”
    “You’re offering a noose and I want you gone! I’ll give you this choice – I can pull the trigger here and now or you can promise to never come here again.”
     

CHAPTER 3
    September 2009
     
There is no better way to hide one truth than with another.
    The Bullet-Catcher’s Handbook
     
    Two weeks after that unexpected meeting with Fabulo, I was sitting in Professor Ferdinand’s office in the university. From the floorboards to the wall panels, the room seemed to glow in the late afternoon light. A century of beeswax and polishing might be needed to turn oak to such a colour. The desk had it too, on which lay my copy of The Bullet-Catcher’s Handbook and the tea things, long cold.
    I was trying to absorb the professor’s revelation – that this gnarled volume of obscure aphorisms, which I had been carrying in secret through months of near poverty, might itself be priceless.
    “Would you buy it then?” I asked.
    The suggestion had a remarkable effect on the professor. His face flushed. He picked up a sheaf of papers and began to fan himself. For a moment he seemed overcome.
    “The college is not so wealthy,” he said. “Besides, a priceless thing cannot logically be bought.”
    “Then I’ll offer it for what you can afford!”
    “Why would you do such a thing? It would bring dishonour in the eyes of your people.”
    “I have no people.”
    “But your ancestors must have–”
    “I need the money!”
    He blinked rapidly on hearing my crude statement. Republicans like to believe their comfort comes from virtue. Reminding them of its true source is akin to mentioning bodily functions. He took a moment to compose himself.
    “Are you not interested?” I asked.
    He puffed out his cheeks. “I am tempted,” he said. “Indubitably