21st December

 My Dear Lady Misericordia,
 

I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing this very early in the morning, so I have not yet had any post from you, but I wanted to share the strange events of last night with you while they were still fresh in my mind. Tom says he cannot deliver this letter until later, however, and that you will not get it until tomorrow.

I am still mystified as to how it can be delivered at all, to be frank with you - this place is still a complete puzzle - even as I worked all yesterday, I still could not keep my thoughts from this enigma that surrounded us, now that we were so very close to its heart.
 
For here was a workshop for crafting toys - not things necessary for survival in this wilderness, but things for entertainment, for children's play. And many of them, for this was not the only workshop, apparently. And yet how could they possibly get these things to the outside world from here? Consider the trouble we had had getting here. Now imagine taking that journey again and again, bearing cargo and supplies.
 
And here we come to the problem of the letters, for, soon after out meeting with Nicholas, they were brought to us by one of his many helpers and we were given to understand that we could, easily, send and receive mail from anywhere to anywhere, if we had anything we wished to send.
 
At first I thought that perhaps our host had some kind of wireless telegraph, allowing him communication instantaneously around the world, but no, here in my hand was your letter, on your paper in your very own handwriting, even down to the three whole pages detailing the dress that you wore to the ball (which, as Harry pointed out, could have been summarised in just three words: 'Pink, with ribbons').
 
So he must be bringing the letters in and sending them out. But how? I had seen only the customary reindeer and sleigh outside, and that would not get him very far in this remote valley. He must have some extraordinary means of transport or communication hidden away somewhere that would allow such miracles. I began to see why the Professor was so interested.
 
And I was right in my guesses, too, it seemed, for as Harry and I were eventually led through into supper, we came in at the tail end of something the Professor was saying to Nicholas.
 
"...but imagine the possibilities... A world where people can travel to distant lands in only hours - imagine what we might learn about other people and their cultures, how that will destroy all the barriers that distance and ignorance put up between men and put an end to hate and suspicion between nations! Imagine a world where men can talk to each other across the globe, have the knowledge of the world at their fingertips, know all the news and all the secrets, imagine what a race of scientists we will be then, what will we not be able to do!"
 
"Perhaps," said our host genially, "Or perhaps all that knowledge will drive men mad, have you thought of that? Have you thought that perhaps people will be people, whatever toys they have?"
 
"Just think of what it will mean for trade," persisted Lord Daunt, "Goods from every country under the sun, available whenever you want them."
 
"And when you have everything you want," countered Nicholas, "What will you do then? Could it be that what you really want is precisely what you can't have?"
 
"But..." said the Professor.
 
"Now, a moment," said Lord Daunt.
 
"Besides," continued Nicholas, "It isn't mine to give and would be useless to anyone else, anyway. So, enough of that: time for supper!" And he said it with such gentle finality and heartiness that the Professor and his Lordship stopped pestering him and followed him meekly to the table. But I could see that they weren't going to give up on their dreams so easily.
 
This time we were eating in a large room, set off, by an arch, from a vast dining hall with high, painted ceiling, ringed about with a gallery, the whole place filled to the rafters with the workers from Nicholas' homestead, all eating and drinking happily. We were evidently seated at the top table, along with Tom and Alf and three other workers who, hung on every word Nicholas uttered.
 
We had eaten our soup and were just setting into a fish that I think must have been carp (and hoping, in my case, that we might have some meat soon), when a whisper began to travel the length of the dining hall, up the tables and through the arch to Nicholas' chair.
 
He listened to the waiter, who had to stand on tiptoes to reach his master's ear, even with Nicholas sitting down, and then turned to us.
 
"Gentlemen a... gentlemen, I'm afraid we have a difficulty. Someone has entered the house where you left your belongings and has been rifling through them. My friends are rightly appalled, as they know nothing of crime here. They believe the person responsible is still somewhere in Joulutontti," I knew by now that that was his name for his home here, "Could it be someone of your party? Did you have another with you?"
 
"Oxshott," muttered Lord Daunt, "It must be." And he stood up from the table, "Come on, if we're quick..."
 
And we followed him out of the door, Nicholas and his friends coming in our wake.
 
We came out into the central square of the homestead, the air clear and cold and the stars bright above us. Just across the square was the main gate we had entered by and, even as we watched, a shadow detached itself from under the eaves of a nearby house and ran across the open space towards the gate.
 
"Oxshott!" bellowed Lord Daunt.
 
The figure stopped in gate and turned.
 
"Oxshott, stop there!"
 
At the sound of the shout a light came on and caught Oxshott in its glare, frozen there on the edge of the night. With a gasp the crowd of workers around us drew back. And he was a fearsome sight.
 
His clothes were ragged and torn, standing out in great bunches of fur and cloth. His dark hair and beard were matted and and flecked about with ice. Standing there, shaggy and wreathed in mist from his own breath he looked like the exact opposite of our host, dark and angry and wild.
 
"Shells," he said, "For the gun," and he shook a box of ammunition and waved the shotgun, which he still carried, at us.
 
"Bear's here, you know," he said, "Polar Bear. I've seen it, at night. It's here again. Going to get it this time..." and then he stopped and gasped as he caught sight of Nicholas. "You!"
 
"Me?" said Nicholas.
 
"You! Where is it? The train, where is it? Why did it never come? Why did you not bring it?"
 
"I think you know, don't you, Roderick?" said Nicholas, and there was a tone in his voice that I had not heard before, some thing hard and stern.
 
"It wasn't my fault!" shouted Oxshott, "I didn't mean to push her so hard! I didn't know she'd fall off!"
 
"It was very bad, all the same," said Nicholas, and at the word 'bad' the crowd around us shuddered.
 
"How dare you! How dare you!" roared Oxshott, "You, you..." he stopped and a terrible, twisted smile spread over his lips, "You: what a trophy that would be, eh? Your head, just above the fireplace: that would be something, wouldn't it? That would be quite something!"
 
"Oxshott, what are you saying?" I couldn't stop myself, "What do you mean?"
 
"I mean his head," he snapped back, "It's mine. I'll be back for it. Tomorrow. I'll be back and I'll have his head for my wall!"
 
And with that he turned and bounded out of the light and off into the darkness.
 
I need hardly tell you that our meal was not quite as cheerful as it might have been after that.
 
The Professor and Lord Daunt are convinced that Oxshott is quite mad and will simply disappear into the wilds never to be heard of again and Nicholas seems curiously undisturbed by his threat, and also about the bear, which he did admit often comes sniffing round the homestead, attracted by the smell of food.
 
Harry and I, on the other hand, are sure that Oxshott meant every word he said. And we are equally sure that even if no one else is going to do anything about it, we must, at least, try to protect our host. We spent the rest of the meal putting our heads together with Alf and Tom and I think tomorrow is going to be a very busy day.
 
Yours
 
In worry and anxiousness
 
Timothy Hope, Esq, Tutor