Free Alistair Grim's Odditorium by Gregory Funaro

confounded delays.”
    “On the contrary,” said Mr. Grim. “I should think our backers will be quite satisfied with what I have in store for them.” Lord Dreary looked unconvinced. “In fact,
after today, I guarantee you they’ll insist on giving us all the time we need.”
    “Hm,” Lord Dreary said again, staring at the paper.
    “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” said Mr. Grim, rising, “I’ve got a busy day ahead of me. Allow me to see you out, Lord Dreary.”
    The gentlemen left the library, but only when I heard the lift cranking away in the parlor did I dare come out of my hiding place. I quickly slipped from the room, dashed for the hearth in the
parlor, and set about my work in the flue as if I’d been there all along.
    I did not pay my respects to the Lady in Black as had become my custom.
    I was so worried about Mr. Grim that I forgot she was there.



W hen McClintock began trembling again in my pocket, I did my best to ignore him. I truly did. “I’m not speaking to you, Mack,” I
said, and carried on with my scraping. The flue was cold and cramped, and a pair of soot-caked pipes ran along one of the walls and disappeared high above me into an adjoining shaft. I barely had
any space to move, but the old pocket watch kept at it, jiggling up and down and side to side so violently that I finally gave in out of fear he might leap from my coat and tumble down the
chimney.
    “What time is it?” Mack asked as I opened him.
    “Time to get you back to the shop,” I said. “That’s twice you tricked me.”
    “Ach!” Mack cried, spinning round in my hand. “This isn’t Mr. Grim’s library!”
    “Lucky for you, it isn’t.”
    “What’s this yer gabbing about?”
    “Don’t pretend you don’t know. You fizzled out when you slipped under the library doors. I had to fetch you and ended up hiding in there while Mr. Grim spoke with Lord
Dreary.”
    “Dreary? Never heard of that clan before. Is he a foreigner like you?”
    “You never mind about that. But rest assured you’re never going anywhere near those library doors again.”
    Mack heaved a heavy sigh. “Ah, well. That was me last hope. Now it’s the scrap heap for sure.”
    “Best thing for you, I should think. What with all the trouble you’ve caused me.”
    McClintock’s hands sagged, his eyes dimmed, and his face turned downward into my palm.
    “My apologies, Mack. I shouldn’t have said that.”
    “Nah, yer right, laddie,” he said. “Ol’ McClintock’s never been good for nothing but trouble. I only hope that someday you’ll find it in yer heart to forgive
me.”
    “Well, of course I forgive you. But friends don’t go sneaking into one another’s pockets.”
    “I told ya, laddie, I fell in there by accident!”
    “And we’re both lucky Mr. Grim’s samurai didn’t attack, although I must admit I’m a bit puzzled as to why.”
    “Perhaps they fizzle out like meself from time to time.”
    “Perhaps,” I said, thinking. “But if I were Mr. Grim, I wouldn’t want you in my library either. What with all your shaking and leaping about, you’re liable to break
something. I suspect that’s why you’re not allowed in there, isn’t it?”
    “Ya found me out,” Mack said, his case slowly closing. “Well, it’s been nice knowing ya, Grubb. I only ask that ya remember me as I was. Steadfast and true, the
once-bright-’n’-fightin’ Dougal, chief of the Chronometrical Clan McClintock.”
    Mack sighed again and sniffled.
    “Oh, now stop that,” I said, prying him open. “No need to get all gobby eyed and gloomy. We’ll figure out something to keep you off Mr. Grim’s scrap
heap.”
    “Ya mean it, laddie?” Mack exclaimed, his eyes brightening, his hands twirling back to VIII and IV.
    “Gentlemen’s shake on it,” I said, wobbling his case. Then, in the light from Mack’s eyes, I noticed my fingers were still clean. “Hang on,” I said, holding
Mack up to the sleeves of my chummy coat. “I’ve