Passed a pleasanter than expected night. Amused self by lashing Mr. Partry’s perspective-glass into a fix’d attitude, so that ’twill ever be pointed at the Window in Question. Not so much as a glimmer of candle-light rewarded my steadfast Attentions. Let us all pray that the “Stake-out” winds up before winter, as the room is cool at night even in this season-further explanation, as if any were wanted, for the previous Tenant’s habit of remaining in bed night and day. At dusk, bats emerge from covert places between thatch and ridge-beam, and fly out between the floor-boards. But these should not trouble you of Diurnal habits.

Peter Hoxton, Esq.

Nothing.

Kikin

Mr. Partry called at four of the clock, having just come from the place of the auction. He reported finding a single copper token, of the lightest weight, laid down as proffer for the lenses. Sent word to Dr. Waterhouse. The next move is ours. Gentlemen?

Threader

He might as well have offered us nothing. But he offered us something. It is difficult to make out the true signification of this humble disk of copper. But after a long night counting bats, here is what I believe: Jack (or his proxy) does not want the lenses. So he offers payment that is insultingly low. But he does wish to continue the Arabian auction. Our next move ought to be to make some adjustment to the contents of our Pile.

Peter Hoxton, Esq.

I agree with Saturn’s hypothesis (vide supra). Have brought the diagram of the flying-machine discovered in the wall of Bedlam. Will whoever next sees Mr. Partry please ask him to convey it to the Tatler-Lock and bring back the box of lenses.

Dr. Waterhouse

A most peculiar heathenish Negotiation. Have understood the instructions set forth above by Brother Daniel and read them aloud to the illiterate Mr. Partry. He has departed bearing the diagrams. God willing, he shall return the lenses. N.B. evening watch is vexatious owing to the singing and smoking of Main-Topp regulars below. Am willing to trade my evening watch scheduled for 17th, for a morning watch any day save tomorrow.

Orney

Lenses were returned by our Mercury* last night in good condition. Round midnight I detected light emanating from the Window in Question. A look through the perspective-glass revealed the enlarged and distorted shadow of a man cast on the canvas window-covering by (one guesses) a candle or lantern within. Regret that I am unable to offer a useful description of him who cast the shadow. After some minutes the light waned and vanished.

At 2 A.M. a man knocked on the door hoping to find a Sodomite. I sent him away gravely disappointed.

Peter Hoxton, Esq.

No singing, no Sodomites, no Mercury.

Kikin

I renew my plea for some Respite from the damnable Vices practiced so freely Below. Will exchange evening for morning hours at favorable rates.

Partry reports a silver penny in fair condition has been offered for the diagrams. Sent word to Brother Daniel.

Orney

Yester eve the loneliness to which I’d grown accustomed was relieved by the unlooked-for, but welcome arrival of Dr. Waterhouse at five minutes past nine of the clock. He had received the note sent by Mr. Orney. He looks on today’s news as supporting the view that Jack or his proxy is more interested in Hooke’s writings than in his artifacts. He brought a wallet containing some of the chymical Notes, Receipts, amp;c., found in Bedlam’s walls, and proposes that they be left in place of the Flying Machine Diagram. The response should then tell us whether we are (to borrow a figure from a children’s game) getting Warmer or Colder.

Peter Hoxton, Esq.

I propose to Mr. Orney that in exchange for my taking his four hours scheduled tomorrow eve., he take my 18th A.M. and 19th midday watches.

Threader

P.S. Nothing happened.

P.P.S. I find the singing, etc. perfectly innocuous and even join in the choruses.

Round seven of the clock, Mr. Orney, Mr. Partry, and I fortuitously overlapped. Mr. Partry collected the chymical Notes and departed for the Tatler-Lock at 7:04, saying he should be back shortly. But when the bells of St. Olave and of St. Magnus Martyr next resumed their hourly dispute as to what time it was, he still had not returned. Keeping watch, I noted that the curtain had been drawn back entirely from the Window in Question, so as to flood the room of the Auction with what remained of the evening’s light. Peering through the glass I saw a stout red-headed fellow, whom I believe to have been Mr. Knockmealdown, pacing about the room. Sitting at the table was a man dressed in a dark suit of clothes, going through the contents of the wallet in a methodical way-which told me, at least, that Mr. Partry had reached the Tatler-Lock and made his delivery. Moved partly by concern for the welfare of our thief-taker and partly by hope that I might contrive to get a better look at this dark-clad fellow (for the seeing through the window was poor), I departed the Main-Topp at 8:10, leaving Mr. Orney to man the post, and hurried south on London Bridge, reaching what I shall denominate the main entrance of the Tatler-Lock at 8:13. This door leads into the so-called lobby. Chary of exposing myself to the many prying eyes of that place, I did not go inside, but ambled about the surrounding streets for some little while-an exercise I do not recommend to any of the Clubb, as Mr. Knockmealdown’s factories are as be-swarmed with footpads, amp;c., as a knacker’s yard with flies-until at 8:24 my notice was drawn to a carriage (hackney, unmarked, unremarkable) emerging from an alleyway that is surrounded on three sides by out-buildings and other excrescences of the Tatler-Lock. I followed this on foot as far as the Great Stone Gate which it cleared at 8:26:30. Thence I watched it all the way across the Bridge. It passed St. Magnus Martyr, which is to say, it vanished into London, at 8:29:55: rather good time, as traffic on the Bridge was light. Be it noted that the City of London and the head-quarters of Mr. Knockmealdown are separated by a mere two hundred seconds-material for a Sermon should one of you homilists care to write it up. Returning towards the Tatler-Lock I encountered Mr. Partry in Tooly Street, carrying the Flying Machine Diagram under his arm. As is our practice, we pretended not to know each other. I swerved round several corners and followed him, at a distance, up the Bridge to the Main-Topp.

Mr. Partry explained that this auction is akin to a wheel that rubs and balks the first few times it is turned, but presently warms, and runs smoother. Previously the buyer did not come to inspect our proffers for a day or more. But today, as Mr. Partry was swopping the chymical Notes for the Flying Machine Diagram, he encountered Mr. Knockmealdown himself, who bruited that if Partry were to make himself comfortable and partake of some refreshment, he might afterwards nip back up to the Auction-room and find an answer waiting. So Partry did just that-not in the “lobby” but in a more congenial and private tap-room reserved for personal guests of the mismanagement-and at 8:23 (for I had taught him to tell time, and kitted him out with a watch, running in synchrony with mine), receiving the high sign from one of Mr. Knockmealdown’s minions, returned to the auction-room to find evidence that the wallet had been perused, and a gold coin-a louisd’or-left as counter-proffer. Partry let it lie, which was a way of saying to the buyer that he might have more to add to our pile in a day or two.