Saturday October 1, 1853. Bertha was pleased to see me. "H'orange peels?" she muttered. "Sounds like bleedin' Milk-faced 'Arold. 'E's fond of a h'orange or two." "And where might I find this gent?" "'E drinks 'ere most nights." "In the Bucket of Blood?" Bertha nodded.
Friday September 30, 1853. Mr Bruff informs me Miss Kerr was unknown to him. I fear the young woman may be part of the plot. I searched the cellar where I was held but found only a number of orange peels. A clue perhaps? Tomorrow I shall pay a visit to Bertha. If anyone can help, it is she!
I am sure you will track down and seize the robbers and ensure that they will be banged to rights young man.
Thursday September 29, 1853. It transpires that our chief clerk, Mr Crabbit, was set upon on his way to the bank whilst I was held captive. A large sum of money was taken. Clearly the perpetrators feared (and underestimated) the detective skills of Octavius Guy enough to want me out of the way!
Dear Sir, I am so delighted that you are safe and sound.
Wednesday September 28, 1853. I heard a noise. Rough hands gripped at my cords, the first human touch I had felt for some time. My blindfold was ripped from my face. I stared up. "George? How did you find me?" "We got a note saying as how you'd be here." "A note???"
*Mental note only* Tuesday September 27, 1853. Yesterday, when exiting Miss Kerr's carriage, I was set upon by hooligans and now find myself trussed up like a chicken, gagged, and blindfolded in some dark, damp cellar. I know not what has become of Miss Kerr.