Free The Interrupted Tale by Maryrose Wood

An old diary of a sailing voyage, with shipwrecks and cannibals and storms at sea.”
    He puffed again on his cigar and exhaled a slow stream of smoke. “Shipwrecks and cannibals. Does that ring any bells, Miss Lumley? I know you filch books from my library sometimes; don’t deny it.”
    Penelope’s face grew hot at the accusation, for she did sometimes take books from the library. How could she not, in her line of work? Even worse, the very book Lord Fredrick described was in her possession. An Encounter with the Man-Eating Savages of Ahwoo-Ahwoo, as Told by the Cabin Boy and Sole Survivor of a Gruesomely Failed Seafaring Expedition Through Parts Unknown: Absolutely Not to Be Read by Children Under Any Circumstances, and That Means You, it was called.
    She knew precisely where the book was, too. At first she had kept it in her bedchamber so as not to alarm the children with its potentially disturbing contents, but she worried that the housemaids might find it while cleaning her room and return it to the library. Now it was hidden on the nursery bookshelves, behind Mr. Edward Gibbon’s six-volume masterpiece of historical narrative, The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire , where no one was likely to come across it anytime soon.
    â€œI—I may have seen it, my lord,” she half lied. “I will keep an eye out for it, to be sure.”
    â€œIf you find it, deliver it straight to Quinzy, understood? He’s keen to read it, for some reason. Blasted books! They never stay where I put them. First my almanac wanders off, then this cannibal tale. Can’t imagine why Quinzy wants it. Rather an unappetizing topic, to my taste. I’d rather go hunting than read a book, anyway.”
    His study was proof enough of that. Together they gazed upon the dead tiger, with its ferocious teeth and flaring nostrils. Nearby, a bear stood taller than even a tall man would, furred arms outstretched for a deadly embrace. And there was the poor stuffed wolf, its head thrown back in a howl that knew no end.
    Thoughtfully, he twirled his cigar between thumb and forefinger. “I wonder if cannibals keep trophies of their prey, the way I do of mine? That’d be a gruesome end, what?”
    â€œYes, my lord,” Penelope replied, with a shiver of horror. “It would be gruesome, indeed.”
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    I MMEDIATELY UPON RETURNING TO THE nursery, Penelope ran to the bookshelf. “Gibbon, Gibbon, Decline and Fall ,” she muttered, pushing the books out of the way. “And—what? Where is it?”
    The cannibal book was not there.
    Penelope froze. She was certain this was where it had been hidden. She had put it there herself, at that exact spot on the shelf.
    â€œBlast,” she muttered, as Lord Fredrick so often did when he could not find his almanac. “Where could it have gone?”
    â€œLook, Lumawoo! We are packing for our trip.” Alexander and the other children had laid their clothes out on the beds for Penelope’s inspection. The Postal Tyger uniforms were included, as were some other imaginative outfits.
    â€œToothbrushes, too,” Penelope mumbled absently. Shelf by shelf she looked, but An Encounter with the Man-Eating Savages of Ahwoo-Ahwoo, as Told by the Cabin Boy and Sole Survivor of a Gruesomely Failed Seafaring Expedition Through Parts Unknown: Absolutely Not to Be Read by Children Under Any Circumstances, and That Means You was nowhere to be found.
    She took one of the deep, calming breaths that all Swanburne girls were taught to practice before exams. “No panicking,” she reminded herself, “and no crying over spilt milk, either. The book may yet turn up, and if not, it is no great loss. After all, the pages were so faded and sea stained they could scarcely be read, by me, Quinzy, or anybody else. But blast! It is very unsettling to have something disappear like that. And I was so hoping to show the book to Simon,