Read Online This Dark Endeavour (with Bonus Material) by Kenneth Oppel - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kenneth Oppel
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kept a small staff there even in the summer when we were mostly at the chateau. Father bade us farewell and we agreed to meet at two in the afternoon for the drive home.
“To the town hall, then,” I said after Father had disappeared from view.
We had discussed our strategy the night before, and agreed this seemed the most sensible place to begin our search. The land registry office would have records of all the city’s property owners.
But when we asked the fussy town hall clerk to check, he found no entry for a Polidori.
“All this tells us is that he doesn’t own property,” I said outside in the square.
“He may well take rented rooms,” said Elizabeth.
“As a great many do,” added Henry.
Our next step was to ask at the various apothecary shops. If this fellow was as famous as Maria had said, others would have heard of him. But several young apprentices just shook their heads and claimed no knowledge of him.
An older fellow looked at us gravely over the top of his spectacles and said, “I have not heard that foul name mentioned in many years. I know nothing of his whereabouts, nor care to know.”
Our search had started near the centre of the city, but slowly we were moving away from the elegant flowered fountains and airy public squares. The cobbled streets narrowed. There were fewer gentlemen about, and more sailors and labourers and women dressed in coarser fashion. I didn’t like the looks a couple of wharf hands gave us as we passed in the lanes.
I was beginning to despair, for we had asked now at some half dozen establishments, and no one had been able to tell us anything helpful about Julius Polidori.
“We are idiots,” said Henry suddenly.
I turned to see him looking into a greasy window where a row of typesetters sat hunched over tables, their blackened fingers plucking individual letters from trays.
“The
Geneva Gazette
,” said Henry. “This story of Maria’s—surely it would have been written up.”
“It must have been,” said Elizabeth eagerly. “The child of a general! Of course it would have been the talk of the town. Victor, did Maria give you an exact date?”
“She said it was the year of my birth, that it was winter.”
“Now we must hope that the newspaper keeps a proper archive,” said Henry.
I was not hopeful when we entered the offices, for the place was in a chaos of activity and noise and ink. At first it seemed no one would have a second to spare for us, but Elizabeth picked out the kindliest-looking young gentleman she could find. She walked to him and very prettily told him we had been set a historical assignment by our tutor, and would it be possible to look at some past issues of the newspaper.
It was quite remarkable, how helpful the fellow was. He gave us all candles and escorted us down to a cellar, but then my heart truly sank, for I saw tower after tower of newspaper, stacked to the very ceiling.
“It is like a city of paper,” I murmured to Elizabeth.
“Will it be difficult to find the period we seek?” she asked the young fellow.
“Not at all, miss, not at all.” He promptly led us to a particular tower, thrust his hand into it, and, like a magician, pulled out a wad of old newspapers.
“I believe these will suit you,” he said, beaming at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth beamed back. “Thank you so much, sir. You’ve been so kind.”
“If you need any further assistance, I shall be upstairs,” he said. He gave his name, bowed, and disappeared.
“He could not have been more helpful had he been on puppet strings,” Henry said in amazement.
Elizabeth blushed modestly.
We each took several papers and in the light of our candles searched through them.
It seemed hardly any time at all before Elizabeth exclaimed, “I have it here! Here is the story …” She read aloud hurriedly, jumping ahead until she came to what we sought. “‘Julius Polidori, of Wollstonekraft Alley … ‘”
“It is not five minutes’ walk from here,” I
“To the town hall, then,” I said after Father had disappeared from view.
We had discussed our strategy the night before, and agreed this seemed the most sensible place to begin our search. The land registry office would have records of all the city’s property owners.
But when we asked the fussy town hall clerk to check, he found no entry for a Polidori.
“All this tells us is that he doesn’t own property,” I said outside in the square.
“He may well take rented rooms,” said Elizabeth.
“As a great many do,” added Henry.
Our next step was to ask at the various apothecary shops. If this fellow was as famous as Maria had said, others would have heard of him. But several young apprentices just shook their heads and claimed no knowledge of him.
An older fellow looked at us gravely over the top of his spectacles and said, “I have not heard that foul name mentioned in many years. I know nothing of his whereabouts, nor care to know.”
Our search had started near the centre of the city, but slowly we were moving away from the elegant flowered fountains and airy public squares. The cobbled streets narrowed. There were fewer gentlemen about, and more sailors and labourers and women dressed in coarser fashion. I didn’t like the looks a couple of wharf hands gave us as we passed in the lanes.
I was beginning to despair, for we had asked now at some half dozen establishments, and no one had been able to tell us anything helpful about Julius Polidori.
“We are idiots,” said Henry suddenly.
I turned to see him looking into a greasy window where a row of typesetters sat hunched over tables, their blackened fingers plucking individual letters from trays.
“The
Geneva Gazette
,” said Henry. “This story of Maria’s—surely it would have been written up.”
“It must have been,” said Elizabeth eagerly. “The child of a general! Of course it would have been the talk of the town. Victor, did Maria give you an exact date?”
“She said it was the year of my birth, that it was winter.”
“Now we must hope that the newspaper keeps a proper archive,” said Henry.
I was not hopeful when we entered the offices, for the place was in a chaos of activity and noise and ink. At first it seemed no one would have a second to spare for us, but Elizabeth picked out the kindliest-looking young gentleman she could find. She walked to him and very prettily told him we had been set a historical assignment by our tutor, and would it be possible to look at some past issues of the newspaper.
It was quite remarkable, how helpful the fellow was. He gave us all candles and escorted us down to a cellar, but then my heart truly sank, for I saw tower after tower of newspaper, stacked to the very ceiling.
“It is like a city of paper,” I murmured to Elizabeth.
“Will it be difficult to find the period we seek?” she asked the young fellow.
“Not at all, miss, not at all.” He promptly led us to a particular tower, thrust his hand into it, and, like a magician, pulled out a wad of old newspapers.
“I believe these will suit you,” he said, beaming at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth beamed back. “Thank you so much, sir. You’ve been so kind.”
“If you need any further assistance, I shall be upstairs,” he said. He gave his name, bowed, and disappeared.
“He could not have been more helpful had he been on puppet strings,” Henry said in amazement.
Elizabeth blushed modestly.
We each took several papers and in the light of our candles searched through them.
It seemed hardly any time at all before Elizabeth exclaimed, “I have it here! Here is the story …” She read aloud hurriedly, jumping ahead until she came to what we sought. “‘Julius Polidori, of Wollstonekraft Alley … ‘”
“It is not five minutes’ walk from here,” I
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