Julius and the Soulcatcher Read Online Free Page A

thought of the ancient ink stains on his desk, of Mr Crowley’s cane thwacking the blackboard, of Crimper McCready jabbing at his shoulder, asking for all the answers.
    Then he thought of the events of the previous night—of the strange man in the wide-brimmed hat, the creaking hansom cab, of the diary, and Emily. It was frightening but it had been exciting too, and it left the faint flavour in the air of an adventure about to begin.
    ‘Got home safe, then?’ said Crimper McCready, slapping Julius’s back so hard that his teeth nearly shot out of his mouth.
    ‘Oi! Careful,’ said Julius.
    ‘Sorry,’ said Crimper.
    ‘Halfwit,’ replied Julius. ‘Look, I’m having a sick day, Crimper. Tell Mr Crowley I won’t be in.’
    ‘Wot? But I hardly touched you. It was just a pat on the back.’
    ‘Not because of that, pea-brain. I’ve got a few things to do. I’m going to see Mr Flynn.’
    ‘Oh? About those bruisers last night?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Tell Mr Flynn, I’d have steamed in there if they’d started anything,’ said Crimper.
    ‘Yes,’ said Julius. ‘I’ll tell him.’ He turned back the way he’d come.
    ‘I’ll see you at the bare-knuckle bout tonight, Higgins?’ called out Crimper.
    ‘Yes, maybe.’

    It was a long, damp walk to Mr Flynn’s lodgings in Mincing Lane, but Julius didn’t mind. He always enjoyed his time with Danny Flynn, time traveller and champion bare-knuckle boxer of all London.
    ‘Oh, Master ’iggins, come in, come in,’ exclaimed Mrs Mottle, Mr Flynn’s landlady, as she opened the door. ‘This is indeed h’an h’unexpected h’onour.’
    ‘Hello, Mrs Mottle. Is Mr Flynn in?’ said Julius.
    ‘Yes, ’e is. ’es up in ’is rooms h’inspecting the morning newspapers. Go on up.’
    Julius bounded up the stairs.
    ‘Would you care for some tea and ’ot crumpets, Master ’iggins?’ Mrs Mottle shouted after him. ‘I can ’ave Kitty toast ’em up, can’t I Kitty?’
    ‘You can, Mrs M,’ came a reply from the scullery at the end of the hall.
    ‘Crumpets would be very nice, thank you,’ said Julius.
    ‘You ’ear that, Kitty? Crumpets and tea for h’upstairs,’ called out Mrs Mottle, as she bustledtowards the scullery door.
    ‘Right you are, Mrs M,’ came the reply.
    Julius raised his hand to knock on Mr Flynn’s door, but it opened before his knuckles struck the wood.
    ‘Julius? I thought I heard your voice,’ said Mr Flynn. His large frame and broad shoulders filled the doorway. He held a slice of toast in one hand and a newspaper folded under his arm. ‘Come in. Warm yourself by the fire.’
    ‘Thank you,’ said Julius.
    Mr Flynn settled himself in his chair and stretched his stockinged feet towards the fire.
    Julius took off his coat and scarf and sat opposite. ‘Mrs Mottle’s bringing up tea and crumpets,’ he said.
    ‘Good, good, I could do with a refill.’ Mr Flynn drained the last of the tea from the bone-china cup.
    The fire crackled and the clock on the mantel ticked resoundingly in the finely furnished room. Mr Flynn flicked his newspaper back into reading shape.
    Julius picked up a slice of butter-laden toast from Mr Flynn’s plate and bit into it.
    ‘Not at school today, Julius? Did it burn down or something?’ said Mr Flynn.
    ‘Er, no. I’ve taken the day off. Something interesting happened at the shop last night, Mr Flynn,’ said Julius.
    Mr Flynn lowered the newspaper. ‘Oh, yes?’
    ‘Someone came to the shop to sell a diary. That someone left. And not five minutes later that someone was brought back to the shop by a very odd fellow and two bruisers. The odd fellow said the diary was his and he wanted it back. They threatened to cut off the thief ’s hand unless we returned it.’
    ‘And did you?’
    ‘Yes, of course. Then they left with the diary.’
    ‘Hmm. What did these fellas look like.’
    ‘The odd fellow carrying the orchid was about five feet tall, he had red hair and badly fitted false teeth. The bruiser with