Chapter Eight
Forty years on. We were back again in my sitting room. The tale had been told up to a certain point. Mr. Grim looked satisfied so far with the story we had discussed.
“You are probably wondering what became of the plans?” said Mr. Grim.
I nodded.
“I’ll show you.”
I was expecting him to open up his coat and magically reveal a bunch of papers. Instead he got up, walked past me and towards the mantelpiece.
“What are you doing?” I asked curiously, “You haven’t hid it in the fire place?”
“No, do you think I am stupid!”
Then he took me completely by surprise by picking up the clock on the mantelpiece, and putting it on my desk.
“Have you got a device to open this?”
Nodding again, I got up, walked over to the desk, and opened the sliding door above it to reveal a host of tools, which included a screwdriver. I gave it to him.
Instantly, he started working on opening up the clock, and removing the clock face. And right behind it was a bunch of folded up papers.
“Here they are”, said Mr. Grim.
I was completely taken back.
“All these years…and you hid them in my house all along!?”
“Well, it was the least likely place to find them.”
“But you put my life at risk!”
Mr. Grim showed a concerned look on his face.
“I know Matthew, do you not think that has not haunted me these last forty years.”
We spread the plans on the desk, and for the first time ever, I saw the plans.
They showed four drawings showing the dimensions for a mean looking battleship; one from the side, one from the top, and one from the front and one from the back. In one corner was a 3-d sketch of the ship.
“And the French have been looking for this all these years?”
“Yes”, replied Mr. Grim. “They listed a 30,000 Franc bounty for the recovery of them.”
“Yes, I remember reading about it in the paper.”
I looked over the plans for a long while, and then I started to feel tired. I failed to stifle a yawn.
“I am seventy-eight years old”, I said. “I need to rest.”
“Indeed”, he said, nodding in agreement.
“Then I will see you in the morning then”, I said, but grinning at my long lost friend.
I woke up the next morning, dressed slowly and went into the sitting room. Mr. Grim was sitting in the corner, smoking a pipe. He had a puzzled look on his face, and was staring blankly into space. I coughed, disturbing him from this.
“Good morning Matthew”, he said, grinning a little.
“Good morning.”
“You ready to pay Hoggard a visit?”
“Yes!” I said, “We haven’t spoken in forty years! He never had the decency to just pack up and leave after I revealed what he was!”
Mr. Grim hit Hoggard’s door very hard. A minute later, a young face appeared at the door.
“How may I help you sirs?” he asked.
“We want to see Hoggard, if you please”, said Mr. Grim in a rather curt voice.
“He is taking no visitors this morning.”
“You sure about that?” said Mr. Grim, opening his coat slightly to reveal the handle to his pistol.
The man at the door eyes widened in horror.
“P-P-Please”, he stuttered, “I’ll show you right in.”
Constantly looking nervously at Mr. Grim, he showed us through to Hoggard’s bedroom, where he was sitting up in bed, reading the paper. He looked up and saw me, looking rather angry that I should barge in. Then he looked up at Mr. Grim, saw the scars on his cheek and cowered in his bed, in acknowledgement of his worse nightmare.
“Yes, forty years on, and I’m back”, said Mr. Grim triumphantly. “We’ve come to have a little chat haven’t we Matthew.”
Suddenly, the door opened again, and in came another person.
“Why, Mr. Grim!” I exclaimed. “It’s Colonel Jacobs!”
