Inspector Cutler.  

 Investigates ... the missing knife throwers daughter.

Chapter 1

Miss Fisher.

It is 3am, the wind and the rain is coming from the direction where there is no shelter.     The wind is cold and the water wet.     Miss Fisher - as she is known to by her admires and fan-club — stands in her nakedness.     No amount of clothing applied upon her slender skeleton this morning will increase the size of her structure.      Those who know Miss Fisher (and many do,) often stand wittiness to her dressing, where all of her kind and many of male descent look upon her with admiration.        For she is the largest of all draw cards, more  patrons pay to see the most fearless high flyer of all women~a women that has never been seen in the town  of Bella-hills or any other place this century.    

It is 6am, no other would deny her the largest of all circus caravans — painted yellow with red and green lines to both sides; the most glorious of all caravans — pulled by two of the finest white horses~finest white horse ... anyone had seen today or yesterday and there proudly sat a front; Miss Fisher — next to the most important of all men ... Mr Bobster; owner and ring-master.       Yes, sat next to the owner and master of all employees.       

It is 10am, the sun this day is as high in the sky as are the entertainers low in spirit — for they are being led in convoy (of four  caravans, four wagons — carrying tents and equipment, plus two animal cages,) towards Graymarsh.

~~~~

Circus employees like Gypsies and Nomads a like ... at times dream and have desires to place roots into solid soil — to discard small abodes of accommodation and to cease endless travel.          How many of this troupe  .... of dances; clowns; actors; the knife thrower (and his daughter,) ... strongmen; a beaded women; horse riders; the bear trainer, and the fortune teller — if given the strength of character, a drive of will-power and the gumption to stand on their own legs, would adventure far from this life. 

Chapter 2

Graymarsh

'How may I help you young lady? The constable asks?'      'I wish to report my missing sister.' The young girl replies.    'When did you see her last?     The constable  reaches for his note pad and pencil.     'Three days from this day.'    The young girl informs.    'And where was she on that day~that day you saw her last?'   'Between here and Bella-hills.'     Was her reply?

Between licking the lead end of his pencil and twisting the other into his ear, the constable leans over the counter and asks.  'Can you describe this missing sister?

'She is one year older than me.'

'And what age are you?'    Ready to enter the result onto pad.

'I am unsure.' is her answer.    'She stands taller than me.' she adds.

'And what is your height?  

'I am not sure, but she stands one hand taller than me - and she has blond hair to match mine, and matching green eyes and we can share clothing — for we are very like in size.'    The young girl is breathless once all this has been disowned.

The constable slips into his boots ... steps from behind the counter with his measuring tape.   'So she is your height plus one hand?   He repeats her remarks.

'Yes.'

'Who's hand is used to measure the difference?     The question is asked. 

'Mine.'  Is her reply.Noted: in pencil by the hand of the constable. In his best hand.      'So your sister is much your size in all respects; you saw her last, sometime within the last day or three ... and somewhere between here in Graymarsh and Bella-hills?

'Yes.'  The young girl confirms the information is correct; then volunteers her sister has a scar to the inside of her left thigh.

Recorded and filed.     Name of missing girl and that of the sister looking for her; plus address for further inquiries.

Chapter 3

Bobster Circus.

The file is open on my desk, and has been for two days since the young girl gave her story.

Bobster Circus.     The bander hung at the entrance.       All are welcome.          Come and see the wonders of the world, reads the notice to the post, left of the gate.          There is a large tent to the centre of the hired field with several smaller, each with signs begging  one to enter and to spend a penny on one thing or another.           

It is 1.30pm, the grey elephant from Africa is still tethered to its post, resigned to the fact another show ... sometime soon will require him (I assume; it is a male,) to be matched in, to walk around in circles, led by Joe Brown  — the elephant keeper, trainer and carer of the beast~the beast will be required to stand one footed on a stool, while lifting the other and its truck as high as a leg and a truck can be lifted ... then to sit upon the stool, allowing Joe Brown to climb from the floor up over the back of the elephant arriving on to its head ... to the applause of the paying audience. 

I must advise the read that this is carried out within the large tent — and after skimpily dressed woman on white horses rid round and round cracking whips and throwing their hats into the air.        The dust and straw (from the centre ring,) is kicked freely by the hoofs ... into twists and clusters, and covers those lucky enough to have fought their way to the front, hoping for the better view.

Chapter 4

The clowns and the strongman.

Some among you will be frighten of clowns ... and will be aware of the name given to such a fair (fortunately I'm not one.)    

I can write a thousand words and paint a hundred paintings about; and of any fortune-teller ... as we have all read and seen one flipping over tarot cards — reading into them more than you can understand or wish to believe; then have-in listened paid for the information one can do nothing with.       

Before I discuss the merits of being a clown, I will touch upon a little ...  fortune telling in Europe and the Americas include astromancy, horary (something about time,) astrology — Madam T skills seem best applied to reading of spirit boards and reading of tea leaves in a cup.   (Fortune telling with cards,) known as tarot reading — she has the reading of a crystal sphere, accomplished; and the reading of the palms, to a fine art.    The owner of the palms being read all a fluster — unable to to life an eye from her breast ... each rising and fulling on cue.

~~~~

A clown someone who my wash dishes in the morning showing little or no interaction of seeing or acting or saying anything remotely funny — Yet  once in a costume of many colours and one or two sizes to large and hair not their own, even a nose the colour of red, and rounder than any nose should be on any face ... can become funny?      To carry rabbits in a hat, and rolled up flags, and with the skill of making images from twisting and turning balloons, brings smiles to faces of the young and of a young heart.          

Noted: none of the above would keep me inside a hot, smelly circus tent for very long.

Maybe women with no man of their own or those with small fathers and brothers — find pleasure inside such tents when the strongman of the show appears, in only shorts ... exposing biceps, drenched in exotic Eastern oils.       Bar-bells are no match to his strength, boxes of lead ... thrown near and far; iron balls with rusty chains are torn from there fixings; the ladies glance aside, comparing any similarities to their companion.          

So to finish his show, Mr Universe — as the strongman boasts to be ... lifts his assistant (as we now know is the sister of the young missing girl.)  

 Chapter 5

The trip from Bella-hills.

There is nothing better for sad soles than a clear and warm sky.      Thoughts once upper most in minds of those in travel, when the only ones to see them off is the cold winds and pouring rain.          

Let us now put numbers and names to those in this convoy.        

The first is the largest of the circus caravans — the one painted yellow with red and green lines to both sides; with both Mr Bobster and Miss Fisher ... sitting up front.  Following in file of importance~importance in the minds of those in the order of things.      Second, the three clowns, and the two acrobats; next, the wagons carrying the trained animals (safely contained in cages — of steel and iron,) and their trainers; one being Joe Brown.      Then the other trapeze acts, (second to Miss Fisher,) musicians, tightrope walkers, jugglers and one unicyclist.       In the last caravan Madam T (the fortune teller,) the strongman, and the knife thrower, and his two daughters.

~~~~

To recap.      It was 10am, a sunny and warm morning meet those who woke.    Some where in good sprit and some not so (of no interest to this narrative.)     The convoy that morning left Bella-hills heading towards Graymarsh (five days travel.)      The good roads made for easy travelling, they're passing drawing small crowds, with smaller children waving, some larger children glassy eyed towards dreams of being in a circus; but hands held fast by a parent remembering the same such dream long-ago.        The first day uneventful for the minds of these performing artist — still in love with the past; some in love with an acquaintance, or a one off lover left behind.       At night the convoy of caravans would circle with military precision and all  go about with their assigned duties; the very young to gather wood and collect water, for a stream would not be far away.      Camp fires burst into life, smoke fully the close air, pots and pans making sounds of cooking ... Joe Brown talking (Bobo) his elephant to splash in the stream ... the Lyons, monkeys and the camel wait for their dinner.        The voice of Mr Bobstor can be heard near and far, half with instructions and half with song.        Music either in practice or for enjoyment of all quietly manoeuvres this way and that, round and about, through and back — each note played matching a word sung (if any words were required?).         

This is how the days and nights passed in general over the days and nights that had to follow before the troop of circus performers reached  Graymarsh.

~~~~

Chapter 6

Jack Jackson. The Tight-wire walker.

My enquires to date have no leads to the where-a-bouts of the missing young girl  (daughter of the knife thrower.)     I have from time to time thought a glance of her had brighten my eyes, yet all proved unfounded. 

~~~~ 

Like a Tight-wire walker — an Inspector in the police force share the art of maintaining balance.    One while walking along a tensioned wire between two points, the other between motive and opportunity.   Both can be done either using a balancing tool (balance pole,) for the tight-wire walker or only his body to maintain balance.     Where I, balance facts against reality ... evidence and proof of conviction.      Tight-wire performances may fall performing their act: with the only damage is to their own body and esteem. 

Chapter 7

Without or within ear shot.

The young girl gave (the constable,) her name as Emma and the name lizzie to her missing sister.      Lizzie (she informed,) was there in Bella-hills and left with the others — in the first in the caravan with father and herself (Emma.)      The next day (as Lizzie,) was accustomed of doing travelled with Joe. Jealous she was of me (Emma) for I was Joe's assistant ... I know (Emma) told the constable.)       Lizzie longed to exchange rolls, and I, (Emma) to be the sister their father throws knifes at, and she (Lizzie) to be the assistant of Joe.         This (Emma) continued, I would not agree to (nor our father.)        Emma, rejoined to her narrative for reasons ... I'm sure having anything to do with her disappearance.

Through the village of Handle, a small place and nothing to stop for — just a butcher, a baker and yes — a candle-maker.         Up the hill on High Street and down on Oxford Street  ... did the convoy of the circus travel.    It was to the front of the Ironmongery and Stables the wagon of Joe Brown stop; to renew a buckle and metal strapping broken three days before.        It was here Lizzie he informed me left his side to venture to the grocery shop.      She called back to him (Joe) I will catch you up before you know I've gone.     Mr Bobstor and the others continued without pause nor a second thought.          Emma and her father (Rowan) never looked back; unaware Lizzie was without or within ear shot.

I have recorded; the buckle and the metal strap was repaired under half an hour.        The Black Smith proved efficient and happy to chat on any subject that came to his thinking ... Joe in his wait for Lizzie to return took a pint of ale and a crust of bread with a slice of cheese. 

I have recorded; Mr Bobstor, Miss Fisher and the other members of the troupe proceed North.

Chapter 8

Lizzie.

The grocery shop engrossed a young girls mind for more than the time she had allocated

of shopping in it, and so passed the half hour she asked Joe to wait.       However, her delay was not taxing his patients, for the ale was consuming his wellbeing and the cheese driving him to sleep.         

Noted: An hour or more had passed ... any memory of waiting for a young girl with name of Lizzie had elapse.      Joe Brown climbed upon his wagon, and left the village without the daughter of the knife thrower.  

Chapter 9

Mr Bray - The knife thrower.

Three musicians with fiddle, flute, and pipe, play loud Oh! what can the young girl do when her father is part and the parcel of the deception, a melody suitable for such this occasion.

Need I join the dots and colour in the squares for those unfamiliar with the art of knife throwing.        We all like to be in the front seat to gather the best view~to be there, if and when the marksman aims near the target ... in mind glade it is him or her other than you; tied to the spring wheel, round and round, one moment your blood to your head the next fulling your feet and with every thought and hope~hopping the knife being thrown your direction, is on target and no puff of unexpected wind diverts its travel.

Oh! what can the young girl do when her father is part and the parcel of the deception;

never in her short sweet life on earth once her young mother had left with the most wonderful Mr Kringle … Mr Kringle to a still young and beautiful girl; never to far from her family in becoming of age.     Fresh, lovely and willing — and not twenty-one (was the mother.)     Her dark eyes (large round and loving,) her smooth ruddy lips inviting those with the desire to look upon and a longing to kiss.       For such a beautiful naive person married to the circus and to the older knife thrower by her parents for a substantial sum of money ... finding herself with child — not one but two before the third season.

~~~~

The street hid no wagon nor did it show where Joe Brown was to be waiting for her.

Lizzie with her small bag of cotton and thread purchased, looked to her left and then to her right.          The thoughts fulling her mind are clouding reason, and logic ... darkling clouds add to her convulsion.        Where is Joe, miming the words twice; a tear can be seen if another was standing to her left.         Yes, and unseen there was.           

A little old man, a lean figure of about fifty years of age.     He was wearing a grey coat with a very narrow collar, and a black waistcoat Oh! What can the young girl do when her father is part and the parcel of the deception, tight trousers (to tight for a man of his age.)       His gold watch and fob hung from a steel chain~the gold chain having being renounced.

Lizzie on her hearing his voice, turns — his sharp and prominent nose is at her eyes sight, she is close enough to count the loss of three teeth, the balance are yellow.     His cheeks are streaked with the colour ... for the evening air is cooling.      Lizzie is also feeling the chills of the on coming night.

'Miss Bray.' I am Mr Swift, moving a little closer and reaching out to carry the bag.      'I know your father, please be not frightened.'

Lizzie tightens her grip, regaining the distance that was once between them.

'Come with me Miss Bray, before the sky becomes darker.'           'You must be hungry?' 

'I am waiting for Mr Joe Brown,' she advises, looking up the street ... not in his direction.

~~~~

It is a hard life for gypsies, nomads and circus performers ... many unwanted soles of others, many orphans cast out of poor families, many sold to clear credit.       Some  to be free from others, and situations beyond their control.      To escaped an unwanted lover.       As with all occupations, each having advantages and disadvantages, each providing reward for effort and nothing for nothing.

~~~~

So it was in Collington some distance from Bella-hills and some distance from Graymarsh ... said it was in King's Inn, in Kings Avenue; Mr King (yes a coincidence I'm sure,) he and several men of the town partaking in gambling with cards behind closed doors for large amounts of family money, and processions ... and for Mr Bray (the knife thrower,) now after three hours with no wining cards all has to offer a daughter.           

11.30pm the debts must be settled.         For no other man was the debt so high, only notes of the crown need to be exchanged, and ale bills were settled.       Discussion time was upon the biggest loser of the night; the men of the town knew not where to stare or rest their eyes towards.

Mr Bray was handed the note.      His words in his hand struck like knives in heart, his eyes covered by unsteady hands could not hide his bet.          To see your cards sir; I place one of my daughters, with the blessing of my God.      If my cards are greater in value then yours sir Oh! What can the young girl do when her father is part and the parcel of the deception, I will pocket the ten of your pounds.         And if your cards are greater the the total value of mine sir.         A daughter of mine, she will be yours.

Chapter 10

Payment for a debt.

From my investigations; we can return to Lizzie ... having been discarded by a friend and fellow circus performer — he; she has travelled as companion, he; as a member of her extended family, he; who left her behind ... to add upon the grief of a mother finding love with another than her father, living a life like no other of her age, travelling from town to village~village to town, leaning little more than the need to learn only the importance of a circus performer.          If not for her sister her bed would be occupied by young and old who seduced her with trinkets and the promise of love, freedom and covetous. 

Noted; Mr King of The King's Inn, had no need for a young girl Oh! what can the young girl do when her father is part and the parcel of the deception, one that could be more trouble than the cards that turned up that night greater in number than the cards turned up that night on that table ... greater those (in number,) of Mr Bray.        So; Mr King found a gentleman to free him of his win; taking this young girl of two a like from him and her father.         The father selected one daughter from the other, arranging with Joe Brown to deliver the chosen daughter to the owner of his note.          Mr Swift the new owner of the note and now within touch of his prise.         

Mr Swift repeated this question.    'You must be hungry.'        Lizzie looked at the man again.    'Why are you taking interest in my wellbeing, have we knowledge of each other, has my father sent you to return me to the the caravans ... heading to Graymarsh?'    Her questions all running into one sentence with little gaps between each word.       'No'.  'You

now answer to me and will do as I wish.'     He did not look into her eyes —  but saw her confusion ... and non-comprehension.     'Now.'    'Come we must be off.'       

She could not understand how her father could inflict this pain on her — why had he?

I arrived in Collington; several weeks after  the daughter of the knife throwers daughter was reported missing by her sister ... and with this sister, together we have interrogated Joe Brown, Mr Bobster, Miss Fisher ... each and everyone Oh! What can the young girl do when her father is part and the parcel of the deception, including the clowns and the musicians.       All but Joe Brown new more of their discipline than the whereabouts of the missing knife throwers daughter.          Joe confessed it was he (under the instructions of Mr Bray;) to leave Lizzie there to defend for herself.        He expressed is remorse and guilt for leaving her there ... he had no option other than to do so —  for the knife thrower had convictions against him. (That is another story.)

Chapter 11

Not all is as we see.

On the floor among toys and wooden boxes, lay in happiness; not a figure huddled tight ... with legs bent, ankles crossed, chin tucked, down, sad; but a young fresh girl content in her whereabouts — elbows on knees and an up lifted face, smiling, happy for the first time in her short life.       Free from a drunken father, a strongman with desires upon a sweet girls sole ... nor those so called would be lovers, with every intentions of owning this young girls  mind.         A bedroom to call her own, no sister to share her privacy her notes, to tell tails on and about her every move.       New clothes (coloured cottons, patterned fabric bought to replace old, passed down to her from others, altered to fit such a small figure. No thought of this had very crossed her mind from the day of her birth ... the death of her mother ... the beds of the tight-wire walker, the strongman and the animal trainer — each instructing her in love making.      Now  with a struck of luck; caused by a father's gaming loss, a note of debt ... the fall of misplaced cards upon the gaming table late in night.     The on-sell of a note ... passed from Mr King to an even older gentleman Mr Swift.        No better gentleman could the note have found, for at his age not lover does he require ... but a keeper of his house and needs to his age ... and happy upon his death to reward this young slim figure of a girl — all his processions.

~~~~

The house of Mr Swift as was described by a stream and a water mill and stone arched bridge ... with the pebbled path curving away with boundaries of colour — off to the freedom of pastures green ... with hedges of bracken — yellow in this season.       Cattle feed upon the green grasses or rest once eaten under a tree — next to the stream~the stream (in only the short time this young girl had been,) become a favourite.         

My single knock is answered as I applied it; she is more beautiful than any of the descriptions recorded with my pencil.       'Are you Lizzie Bray?'      My eyes not leaving hers.          'Lizzie is one — but not the other ... the other is Swift.'       Her answer to me is given.       Her eyes sparkle and her lips twist only slightly.         The voice of a man (Mr Swift, I'm advised.)    'Who is at the door?'          'A man looking for a Miss Bray.’  

‘I have advised him no such person lives here.' 

The End.