Thrilling Tales of the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences Read Free

high born parents; wanting us to be very good little boys and girls, but not caring one whit to raise us themselves.”
    Bettina smiled at Mrs Marsh as if they were co-conspirators as the woman gestured her into the other room. Shuttered windows made the light of the room dim lit instead by a few small flickering gas lamps. They were as well kept as one might expect of a first floor parlour, it was unique in the massive length of wooden file cabinets going across one wall.
    Writing desks lined the wall opposite, all wired to telegraph machines, many of which were whirring away in pleasant faint taps. Long thin paper tickers bubbled up from whatever implement was taking in the code. There were wires all about the room, leading to small sockets that Bettina at first thought were gas-lamp fixtures, but she saw that odd metal spokes went up from their sconces. She thought, perhaps they helped keep the building hidden, but she wondered why she could see it then. Maybe the wiring was faulty?
    Bettina drank in the atmosphere of this lush building, a sharp contrast she had seen in the run-down condition outside; a fine reception room, velvet-flocked wallpaper, and fine curios boasted crystal, china or rare old books. All of the office’s grandeur was effortlessly coupled with the forefront of technology. Where the magic stopped and the science began eluded her, but she was captivated. She turned to Mrs Marsh eagerly but was stilled by the woman’s next grave words.
    “Think very hard about what will and what will not scare you, Miss Spinnett.”
    Bettina blinked at the rather unexpected question.
    Marsh continued, pausing before the parade of file cabinets. “Anyone who is in any way involved with the O.S.M must face their fears and overcome them. This work will try the limits of your sanity.”
    Bettina took in her words. Could anything be more thrilling? One day she’d been a bored and boring orphan sewing clothes for orphanage coffers and escaping in the occasional hard-to-find book. Now she was faced with adventure none would believe.
    “I appreciate that you’re wonderstruck, child, but choose. Pick a creature. A monster. A puzzle. A mystery. Go after something that interests you and bring us back something useful you discovered. Bring us numbers. Bring us details.”
    “A creature?”
    “Think of all the mythical beasts of legend and fable. Among our many duties and our wide-ranging purview, we try to ascertain what all truly exists, for most of them do. Research and Development has been refining equipment to track their details. Should you choose the thrill of danger, of course, there are always the more deadly monsters we would like reports about—”
    “What about ghosts?”
    “Ghosts?” She considered this a moment. “Indeed. Very useful. Can never have enough data regarding ghosts. In fact, that’s an area where we happen to be lacking on account of so many false sightings and fraudsters.”
    Mrs Marsh went to the middle cabinet, middle drawer, and rather than pulling out the handle, she pressed upon it. A strange clunking noise and a hiss of steam sounded from within, like a deep metal lever were pulled, such a hollow and reverberate tone when the cabinets themselves appeared mere wood and only the dimensions visible.
    As if on its own accord, the drawer lengthened before Mrs Marsh and she reached in, a tendril of what Bettina assumed was steam wafted up from the interior. The woman’s sturdy hand plucked up a white linen bundle and her elbow pressed upon the outside handle again, the drawer sliding back once more.
    Mrs Marsh approached and instinctively Bettina held out her hands. Marsh placed something lightweight and cool into Bettina’s hand and she whipped off the white linen covering that Bettina could see now was a monogramed embroidered ladies’ handkerchief. Thoughts of whom the handkerchief may have belonged to were lost in the wonder of what was now in her hands.
    A dragonfly. A large brass