Sorry to hear this. I shall miss these intriguing tales.

What? What??
Now what shall I read on the train to Tripoli??
Please don't make me read that Holmes fellow!!

The end of an era. Octavius Guy, I will miss hearing about your investigations but I’m sure that one day you’ll have your own detective agency. My very best wishes for your future.

Thank you for all your hard work entertaining us, -he will be missed.

Aw, loved the daily story. Wishing you all the best and have a wonderful weekend and enjoy your break.
👍💯🌟📚

Thank you so much for Mr Octavius Guy, Esq.'s daily journals. I had developed a great affection for him and the other characters. Will miss them and wish them the very best.

I will miss them

Thank you for entertaining us with these daily diary entries. They’ve been a highlight of this platform and will be missed.

❤️

These have been an absolute pleasure to read...a bonne bouche of literary loveliness, thank you. I do hope that inspiration might encourage you to one day do another.

Ditto!

So sad if this is the end. I always love reading the journals and make a point every morning after 8am of heading over here to find out today's installment. Thank you for the writing xx

Not a lot from the dead bird society has carried over & stood the test of time. But being introduced to your books has been the best of them. If this is the end of the road for Octavius then, to misquote the philosopher Seuss - I refuse to be sad it's over I'll be very happy it happened!

Thank you, O!

I have loved reading these - and if this is the end - then I am glad that it happened. Thank you

Here ends Octavius Guy's daily journals for now.

Thank you to everyone who read and responded so enthusiastically to our boy detective's posts over the years. Have a great life. 🙏

2/2
"Because Mr Peterson was much smaller than Sir John. He was bound to lose if it came to a fight. The only way to better him would have been to take him by surprise."

"And his motive?"

"Is it not obvious?"

George shrugged.

"Read my many treatises. Tomorrow I shall test you."

Wednesday December 6, 1854.

George scratched his head. "So you think Mr Peterson scarpered from the Diorama of his own accord then met up with Sir John...to do what? Blackmail him?"

"That may have been the excuse. But I think he was already planning to murder him."

"Why?"
1/2

2/2
"I thought you would like to know," the sergeant began, refusing the seat that George tried to offer him, "our bird Peterson has flown the coop."

"He will no doubt resurface at some point, sir. He must if he wishes to inherit."

"Ah." Sergeant Gray nodded in appreciation.

Tuesday December 5, 1854.

The wit of a clerk who led Sergeant Gray to my office poked his head round the door before opening it fully.

"They've come to take you away," he jested, though no one laughed, not even the good sergeant, who seemed ready to cuff the fool's ear. 1/2

2/2
We both agreed that Mr Peterson was now a man to be watched very closely. I gave him his address, which seemed to placate him somewhat.

The big question was how Sergeant Gray had been able to find me on a Sunday?

Had he been watching me???

Monday December 4, 1854.

Directly after yesterday's service I'd told Sergeant Gray all about the plan I'd hatched to unmask Sir John. He could hardly refuse to believe me since two officers of the court (Mr Death and my own employer) had been present.

He didn't take it well.
1/2

2/2
"Let me guess. That of a young man?"

"No." The way he said it so bluntly made my blood run cold. "It was the body of Sir John Geeson."

"Sir John?" I gasped.

Sergeant Gray's eyes drilled through me as the vicar droned on.

"Who wanted him dead?" he asked.

Me, not that I said so.

Sunday December 3, 1854.

The commotion occurred just as we were sitting after mumbling the Lord's Prayer. No less than the good Inspector Gray was forcing his way along the pew towards me.

"A body was fished out of the Thames last night," he whispered as he sat down next to me.
1/2

Saturday December 2, 1854.

As I worked my way through my breakfast kipper I wondered how many days it would be before Mr Peterson's body turned up.

That he was complicit in his own disappearance seemed obvious. What had Sir John offered him? Money?

My commiserations. I had hoped there would have been something positive despite the challenges of your work.

Not exactly, good sir.

Many happy returns of the day, Octavius. I hope you’ve had enjoyable day.

Thank you, good miss.

Cordial felicitations young sir.