Penny Queen Part II

Sir Melan Brook was contemplating his vast array of display cases. His collection was amassed over 60 years and represented the best examples of everything philatelic.  Deep pockets go a long way to building a collection but so also does information.  When an essential item crosses his purview most times it is legitimately bought, other times not.  He had long wondered whether it had been worth his while to keep payments up to certain dealers for the inside running on new merchandise coming onto the market.  If this latest call rang true it was intriguing to hear there was a new contender for the oldest stamp in the world.  And this one is definitive with provenance, while his, now pretender to the crown, although a true mint example in superb condition, has no such provenance.  And the rumor was there may be five of them.  

He picked up the phone, ‘Mr. Ribbons I need you to arrange a further meeting with the Frys. Convince them another examination is required, scans of the book in particular.  I’ll make it worth your while.’

At the Fry household Jack answered a knock at the door. 

‘Hello I am Sir Perfun Dale and I am here about your book.’  

‘Not more knights, word spreads fast’, said Jack.  

Now seated at the kitchen table Sir Perfun began his pitch.  

‘I keep my ear to the ground particularly on the lead up to conferences like WorPhilEx.  The stamp world is abuzz at the moment and with perferationists out and about, I am on high alert. Let me just say that I have an informer amongst the staff of a certain estate, whereby I have heard that your book has come to the attention of a rival collector whose methods have been questionable,’ persuaded Sir Perfun.  

Jack couldn’t stand it any longer, ‘Who or what are perferationists?’  

‘They are another shadowy group of agitators. Some say they want stamps to return,’ replied Sir Perfun. 

Alice had been listening with astonishment, ‘What are we getting into here, with informants, knights and placard waving perfectionists.’

‘Perferationists,’ corrected Sir Perfun.  

‘I think it is cool,’ said Jack. ‘What is our next move?’ he asked.  

Mrs. Fry replied, ‘We were to have a meeting tomorrow for scientific scans of the diary as requested by Mr. Ribbons, however there has been a doubling of appointments.’ 

‘I may be able to assist here, said Sir Perfun. I can attend the session in your stead and supervise the examination myself.’  

‘Alice and I can go as family representatives,’ declared Jack.

‘A pleasure,’ assured Sir Perfun.
The city was crowded with sidewalk shufflers.  Jack carried the book and was wondering whether they should have wrapped it better than sticking it in a brown paper bag.  He was knocked down from the side by a burly type who simply dragged him back to his feet and kept going.   

Sir Perfun called out, ‘After him, that man has your book’.  

All three began the chase. Sir Perfun and Alice were left behind when Jack took up the real running. Mr. BurlyBeef was also Mr. FastForward but Jack saw him ahead dodging thru traffic.  When Jack finally got across the city street, the book thief was lost in the crowd. The others caught up with a pant.  

Sir Perfun was muttering, ‘I do not know who that was but I think I know where he went. Follow me.’

They proceeded a few blocks to an ornate building.  

Sir Perfun was anxious, ‘Here is the office of Sir Melan Brook, the esteemed philatelic collector.’ 

However they could not gain access without an appointment.  

‘He is most likely at home preparing for this evening’s regular lecture. Here is my invitation for the discussion, the topic being “Perforated Initials”,’ said Sir Perfun as he passed around the elaborate invite.

Sir Perfun explained the history with his rival Sir Melan. 

‘No one really knows who owns the oldest stamp but right now you have the best claim.  Sir Melan will use any tactic including bullying, substitution, stealing or bribery. They are all just methods for him and I have been on the end of it more than once, ‘said Sir Perfun.

‘If you don’t like him then why do you go to his stamp lectures?’ asked Alice.   

Sir Perfun was thoughtful, ‘It’s true I don’t like the man but I do like to look at his stamps.’  

They were now going off to the nearest Police Station to report the theft.  Jack made his excuses saying he just wanted to go home but that Alice should stay with Sir Perfun to make the complaint.  She wasn’t happy but went along with it.  Jack’s real motivation was to go pay a visit to Sir Melan Brook.  

On the train, he was pondering how to go about this.  It was nearly dark and he knew he had plenty of time as his parents weren’t getting home until late.  Thanks to the invitation, Jack could type the address of Sir Melan into Google maps. The house was only 500 yards from the station. This area was semi-rural and on his approach, he could see it was more mansion than house.  The main gate looked sturdy and locked but the fence was a brick wall crumbling with age.  He followed the wall around until some broken masonry gave him the chance to pull himself up and over.  The landing was a bit noisy amongst twigs and dead foliage.  He could see a side door with an electronic keypad only 5 yards away. Before he could think about this, the door clicked open. 

The disembodied voice asked, ‘Why don’t you come in young Mr. Fry?’

Jack wasn’t sure if it was the same Mr. Beefy from earlier in the day but he was shoved into a room and kept there. He had been ignoring his sister’s calls and decided he would wait for more developments.  Shortly Mr. Beefy returned with an elderly man. 

Jack threw him a dirty look, ’You must be Sir Melan. I was warned about you by Sir Perfun.’  

Sir Melan fixed a piercing gaze that gave Jack the shakes, ‘I can assure you Jack that whatever you were told, it is all true. I need you to tell me where the other four are.’  He raised a clear bag with the penny black, ‘This first one is exquisite.  I have done some exhaustive scans of your book and I can confirm there are no stamps to be found.’

‘I don’t know where the others are. They are lost. We told that to your dealer friend,’ yelled Jack. 

‘You are onto my methods aren’t you young Jack.  By the way Sir Melan is not the angel you might think.  Mr Dolton can you break one of Jack’s fingers please?’  

Suddenly Jack heard then felt a snap, twice. His small finger was bent then straightened again in a matter of seconds. The pain was a surge to the brain and back to the finger. Jack just looked at it in shock. It was like his whole body was throbbing, not just the finger. 

A knock at the door by a servant announced that Sir Perfun had arrived early for the evening’s soiree.

‘I told you I did not want to be disturbed,’ bellowed Sir Melan, however Sir Perfun was ushered into the room.  

‘I’m sorry Sir Melan I did insist‘, said Sir Perfun, stopping mid sentence as he scanned the room and saw the grimaced look on Jack’s face. 

‘Hello Jack’, said Sir Perfun, ‘Your sister rang me when you didn’t return. I can see from your hand you have met Sir Melan’s associate.’ 

‘This numbskull broke my finger’, replied Jack gesturing at Mr. Dolton.   

Sir Melan was not put off, ‘Come now young  Jack you damaged your finger in the fall from my fence. We just got you in here for some first aid. Would you apply a bandage to Jack’s injury Mr Dolton.’  

Jack was feeling better now but could not work out how to proceed in this bizarre situation.  

Sir Melan produced the diary and placed it down, ‘Now young Jack I am asking again where are the missing four?’ 

‘Perhaps you should take another look Jack just to keep Sir Melan happy,’ suggested Sir Perfun.   

Jack reluctantly opened the book and gave an involuntary gasp.  The others picked up on this immediately. 

‘I knew there was nothing else like a bit of pain to focus your thoughts’, exclaimed Sir Melan. ‘What have you remembered my boy?’  

‘I have noticed something different. The bookmark is missing!’  said Jack. 

All eyes turned to Mr. Dolton who was now looking a bit perplexed. 

Sir Melan rounded on him, ‘Tell me exactly what you did to bring it here.’   

Mr. Dolton screwed his face in thought, ‘It would have been when I opened the bag to make sure it was a book. I must have lost it then. I went into the side door of the office building and checked it at the bottom of the stairwell.’  

‘Go there at once,’ commanded Sir Melan, ‘find that bookmark.  Call me when you arrive. I must see your search live on your phone, and take this lighter with you.’  

‘What’s this for?’ asked Mr. Dolton.  

‘To burn those stamps with of course,’ whispered Sir Melan.  He looked across eye to eye, ‘What say you Sir Perfun?’  

‘Yes, destroy them,’ he replied with an embarrassed look.  

Jack could not believe what he was hearing.

The call came thirty minutes later.  There had been an eerie silence in the room until then. Mr. Dolton was making his way down the fire escape.  The light was reasonable and they could make out the stairs via the phones video link. At the bottom there was a bit of detritus blown in from the outside street, some papers, leaf litter and sure enough laying on its edge was the bookmark.  Considering the 200 year time frame it was standing up to the rigors, except for Mr. Dolton.   

He started pulling on the tassel end, then vehemently shaking it for no result.  

‘Calm down Mr. Dolton, urged Sir Melan. Extract your knife and gently sever that stitching I can see there.’

‘I need to put the phone down Sir’, suggested the increasingly exasperated Mr. Dolton. ‘Very well,’ agreed Sir Melan, ‘but describe what you see step by step. Now proceed.’

The stitching was duly cut enabling a space to be opened between two halves of the silk embroidered bookmark.   The tension back at Sir Melan’s was acute and Jack was all concentration as well.  Mr. Dolton broke the silence, ‘I can see there is something inside. It is paper. Yes, all four are here Sir.  I have the lighter going, the four of them are joined in a square.’  

‘NOOO…’  is the urgent call by both the Sirs.

WORPHILEX 2040 show cased stamp exhibits from all countries.  Sir Rowland Hill had never intended to start an industry, a worldwide phenomenon. He just wanted to make mail delivery more efficient.  Now after 200 years we can see a corner block of four Penny Blacks.   

Sir Perfun was standing with the Fry family on the main concourse of the exhibition level. 

‘I came to the same realization as Sir Melan. The cat was out of the bag. We could not own them publicly or privately, but if they were gone, no one else could either, he said shaking his head.  When that corner block emerged, in mint condition and so precisely cut by your great ancestor, that was the rarest of them all.  You know, back at the start, people were enthusiastic.  They sent a little picture of the Queen to all their friends and family. The novelty never wore off. We started with 68 million penny blacks in the world. Who knows how many there are still left? I guess in the lead up to this recent discovery, Sir Melan and I were both a bit unhinged.’