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offices to keep them all. Mr Jenkins here will be able to show you what you need.”
    The doctor gestured towards a slight figure in a faded grey suit, who was rising chameleon-like from behind one of the dusty desks. “Jenkins, this is Mr Montgomery Flinch. Mr Flinch would like to see the Midnight Papers.”
    At these last words, Jenkins’s mouth twitched, a nervous shadow momentarily flitting across his features as he stepped out from behind his desk.
    Dr Morris turned back towards Monty.
    “The Midnight Papers is what the orderlies took to calling the patients’ nocturnal writings. They joked that they were more believable than the first editions of the Daily Mail and the other morning papers.”
    “Mr Flinch, it’s an honour,” said Jenkins, recovering himself as he clasped Monty’s hand in his own. “I’m an avid reader of your stories in The Penny Dreadful .”
    “Why thank you,” Monty nodded his head courteously, “and this is my niece, Miss Penelope Tredwell.”
    “Miss Tredwell.”
    Jenkins inclined his head towards Penny in greeting, giving her a first chance to study him at closer quarters. His face was spreading lazily into middle age with jowly cheeks and the beginnings of a double chin as the wattling skin bulged around his neck. His thin lips were pulled uncomfortably into an ingratiating smile, but Penelope noticed that his grey eyes flicked nervously from Dr Morris to Monty and then back again as if calculating his next move.
    “Dr Morris, if I might just ask,” Jenkins ventured, a slight note of shrillness entering his voice. “The Midnight Papers – are you sure? If word was to get out of what is happening to the patients here…”
    Dr Morris fixed him with a glowering stare.
    “Mr Jenkins, may I remind you that I am the Physician Superintendent at this hospital. The care and well-being of the patients here is my ultimate responsibility. I believe that Mr Flinch can help us to bring an end to this nightmare and I expect you to give him your every assistance. Now bring him the papers.”
    Jenkins shrank back at the doctor’s command. Nodding his head, he turned to rummage in his desk drawer, before finally pulling out a large bunch of keys.
    “We keep the papers in one of the back offices,” he told them, motioning for Monty to follow him as he turned towards another door at the rear of the office, half-hidden between the overflowing cubbyholes. “They were taking up far too much space in here – getting mixed up with the patient records and medical notes – so we moved them into the rear annexe. We’re going to have to find a new space for them soon though.” He pushed the door open and ushered them through. “They’ve practically filled the entire office.”
    Penelope followed Monty and Dr Morris as Jenkins led them through a warren of small rooms, each filled with more desks and pigeonholes bristling with papers.
    “The patients’ writings are kept in here,” said Jenkins as he stopped at yet another door and began to search through the loop of keys in his hand. “I’m afraid though that the papers are in some disarray. It’s been quite some time since I was able to get to the filing back here.” He cast a nervous glance towards Dr Morris, who scowled back at him owlishly. Finding the right key, Jenkins fitted it to the lock and, turning the handle, began to push the door open. “Here you are, Mr Flinch – the Midnight Papers.”
    Penelope heard Jenkins’s shocked gasp of surprise, but couldn’t see its cause as Dr Morris and Monty stood motionless in front of her, their bulky frames blocking her view of the room’s interior.
    “Mr Jenkins,” the doctor growled, “what is the meaning of this?”
    As Penny wriggled through the small gap between Monty and the doctor, digging her sharp elbows into Monty’s midriff to ease her passage, she heard Jenkins splutter in reply.
    “I – I – I don’t know.”
    Through the open doorway, Penelope could see a small