Free The Custodian of Marvels by Rod Duncan

and date of the appointment onto a slip of stiff paper and passed it across the desk to me, though he was fastidious in avoiding contact with my hand. I thanked him and left.
    I was no longer smiling.
    Opposite the Patent Office building there was a library set back from and above the road. In the small garden at the front, under the shade of a tree, I waited and watched. Before the revolution the building would have been used for Christian worship and the grounds for burial. Always with one eye on the road, I strolled the perimeter, pretending to read the inscriptions on the gravestones, which had been arranged as a kind of ornamental boundary wall.
    At half past five in the afternoon, the last patrons left the library and the great doors boomed closed behind them. Then, within minutes, people started to emerge from John Farthing’s offices. There were young and old, but all were men and all dressed resolutely in grey. I observed a mixture of top hats and bowlers. And then among them I saw a centre-creased hat with a wide brim. It was the same one he had worn on our first meeting.
    He was a man with an easy stride that looked out of place on a cobbled street in Nottingham. He never seemed to be hurrying, but as I set out to follow, I found myself having to throw in extra steps to keep him in sight.
    I do not know if I was seen by any of the others who came out of that building. I do not know if anyone watched me or followed. I kept John Farthing in view all the way up Stoney Street and Warser Gate. Then he picked up speed and began to pull away. I lost view of him in Bottle Lane. Forgetting myself, I ran. I knew that people were staring. If I had thought about it, I would have known the risk. There were still fugitive posters bearing my likeness. If one person had recognised me, my life would have been over. But I kept running, turning right up Bridlesmith Gate for no reason but that it felt to be the way he would have gone.
    Then I saw the grand columns of the Council House, and striding along beside it, John Farthing. I caught up with him on the wide plaza in front of the building. He must have heard my footsteps because he stopped and turned. I was out of breath.
    “Miss Barnabus,” he said, his voice strained by some emotion that I couldn’t read.
    “Mr Farthing.”
    “What possessed you to come to the office? Don’t you know how dangerous it is for you?”
    “It’s the Duke… the Duke of Northampton. He’s done the same thing… again. Another girl. Another family.”
    Farthing opened his mouth and closed it again.
    “We must stop him,” I gasped. “Don’t you see? With this… A fresh trail. We can find the agent who did it. We can…” I faltered, tears running down my cheeks.
    “No.” He was shaking his head.
    I stepped towards him, but he held up his hands, as if warning me away. People had stopped to stare.
    “But you must help,” I said. “Please.”
    He took a step backwards. “I’m sorry. But I have no more disguises from you. I loved you, Elizabeth. But that way is closed. I’m an agent of the Patent Office. You know what that means. Celibacy. For life. You shouldn’t have come. We stand on opposite sides of a great breach. It is too much for me to bear. If we meet again, it will be as enemies. This is the end.”
     
    Some minutes after John Farthing had strode away, an elderly couple approached me and asked if I needed help. The woman took my hand. She wore a jet ring and pinched cuffs. Her fingers were very pale. I do not know why these details were important, but I noticed them. I seemed to see every wrinkle in her aged skin. The two of them looked so alike in face that I took them to be brother and sister. Other people passed by in that busy square, making an art of looking the other way. A nurse pushing a perambulator, three students with battered satchels, two men carrying bags and carpenters’ tools. The flagstones beneath my feet were worn smooth.
    “My dear? Can we take you