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Tuesday May 2, 1854. "Young Mr Rains is concerned about the drawing teacher his sister recently employed," I summed up. "I know," said George. "It was me who he begged to take on the case, remember?" Only too well... "This here is his residence," he continued. "Then I guess you'd better knock."

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Monday May 1, 1854. I was watering the aspidistra and George happened to be sitting at my desk when the young man entered. "Sir, I find myself in need of your services," he said, addressing George. George perked up immediately. "What's the problem?" he asked. "It's my sister."

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Sunday April 30, 1854 To church in Camden. After the service, I explained the diary situation to Annie...as Mary looked on disapprovingly. "Let George buy his own diary if he wants one," she whispered, aware of her sister-in-law's attentions. "I purchased one for him yesterday," I whispered back.

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Saturday April 29, 1854. I was just finishing off the kippers my brother had brought home when a knock at the door heralded a most unexpected visitor. George's wife Mary. She refused to come in and stood there in the doorway tearing strips off me for reclaiming my own diary. Hmmm...

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Friday April 28, 1854. "The parlour maid was stealing the cheese!" "Was it?" George continued to stare at the floor. "Oh, for goodness sake! Why don't you buy your own diary? It's not as if you can't afford it!" "But what would I write?" "Scurrilous things about me," I muttered.

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Thursday April 27, 1854. Thank goodness for a new case! "Come, George," I said, "we have a light-fingered servant to apprehend." "You go," he said, polishing the glass on the few testimonials he'd received, the ones he thought of as his own. "You don't really need me, do you?"

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Wednesday April 26, 1854. George is currently pouting because I won't give him the diary back. What fresh horror have I unleashed, I have to ask? Even Mr Tibbles is avoiding him. If there's no improvement by this afternoon, I shall have to send him to Mr Crabbit for a pep talk.

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Tuesday April 25, 1854. Octavius Guy returns! Yes, I have wrested my diary back from George's grubby big hands, though not without a struggle. My colleague has had plenty of time to make his mark as a proper detective, yet he seems more interested in the art of eating scones.

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Monday April 24, 1854. "Go on, tell me then." "It was a neat idea," said Octavius. "Coordinates for the planned attacks were delivered to Mrs Walsh's, leaving the diplomat entirely in the clear. But he didn't figure on dealing with Octavius Guy!" I frowned. "I meant about Annie."

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Sunday April 23, 1854. His nibs turned up at church. Almost wish he hadn't. I hate how Annie gushes over him. Looked like they were making another assignation to me. This week's dinner's at our place, and Mary wanted to cook it. It's seven as I write this and it's still not ready.

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Saturday April 22, 1854. Yesterday I fumed all the way back to the office. His nibs seemed so sure that the coded letters would stop, yet he persisted in explaining nothing. "How can you know?" I asked. "Because we saw the diplomat moving house," he replied, damn his eyes!

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Friday April 21 1854. We were at Mrs Walsh's, having just watched the movers stripping the diplomat's house. "You will never be troubled by those letters again, or my name is not Octavius Guy!" his nibs declared. Neither she nor I was impressed. "Truly?" "Truly, miss. I swear it!"

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Thursday April 20 1854. His nibs seemed delighted with what he'd read in the paper. I wandered over casual-like and glanced at the headline: War In The Crimea Escalates. "I sense you have questions, George," said he. I wasn't about to let him get the better of me! "Me? Course not!"

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Wednesday April 19, 1854. "Are you going to let me in on what's going on?" I asked. Octavius was again engrossed in his newspaper. He shrugged rather annoyingly then said: "I threw the coded letter I wrote out. The rag and bone man took it. The diplomat then purloined it. See?"

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Tuesday April 18, 1854. Got to Mrs Walsh's in time for tea. I was tucking into my third scone when the knocker sounded. Octavius jumped up to retrieve the second post. Mrs Walsh looked on helplessly as he tore open her mail. He rushed to her writing desk and began to scribble.

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Monday April 17, 1854. His nibs expected me to mind the office but I went to see him at Mrs Walsh's. He didn't seem surprised to see me. He put down the paper he was reading and rose from his chair. "The letter won't be long in coming," he said mysteriously, tapping the front page headline.

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Sunday April 16, 1854. To church in the morning. Annie was furious with me when you-know-who failed to make an appearance again. "Get used to it," I said, when Mary and the in-laws were sitting round my parents' table for their Sunday dinner. She gave me a filthy look.

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Saturday April 15, 1854. A very annoyed George Crump here. Why does Octavius always end up with the cushy jobs? He gets to stay at Mrs Walsh's, being waited on hand and foot, and I'm obliged to improve myself once more. Today Mary's got me pressing late daffodils in her family's Bible.

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Friday April 14 1854. We were in Mrs Walsh's sitting room having a wonderful tea. "Cook has outdone herself," said the lady of the house. "Scones, cake, and sandwiches. I can't think why?" I reckon Cook knew I was there. "Tell me again why you want to live in?" she asked Octavius.

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Thursday April 13, 1854. The map shop's proprietor hovered uncomfortably close as Octavius pored over the map he'd pulled out for us from the drawer. "It's been twenty minutes," he growled. "Are you planning to buy it or what?" I cringed when Octavius turned abruptly and shushed him.

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Wednesday April 12 1854. Having fed Mr Tibbles, I was polishing the framed testimonials when Octavius jumped up with a start. "I know what the code is!" he cried. "What?" "George, do we have a map of the Continent? One that shows latitude and longitude?" I scratched my head. "No."

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Tuesday April 11, 1854. George Crump here. His nibs is still trying to crack the code. I was beginning to think that he couldn't. "Why bother?" I asked. "So we can change the next message Mrs Walsh receives," he replied. "What next message?" "Trust me, there'll be one."

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Monday April 10 1854. Octavius looked thoughtful. "I've interviewed the servants up and down the road," he said. "It appears the man's a minor diplomat from one of the Balkan states. It is he who intercepts Mrs Walsh's coded letters." "I thought it was my job to interview servants."

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Sunday April 9, 1854. This morning's sermon was boring. I was a bit annoyed that his nibs didn't show. So was my sister Annie. She cornered me after the service and demanded I tell her where he was. "How should I know?" I said. "You're meant to be an investigator!" she accused me.

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Saturday April 8, 1854. I wanted to go with Octavius, cos I reckon he's on to something, but he wouldn't let me. "Mary would be furious if I didn't allow you improve yourself," he said. Spent the afternoon improving myself at the Diorama. The one with the Sphinx weren't too bad.

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