The Missing Scroll

By Ekoparnika Mukherjee

‘If God had intended us to walk, He wouldn’t have invented roller skates.’

Such are the eccentric thoughts of a brilliant young scientist- medical lecturer, Professor George P. Hilton. He is on a short holiday, which he decides to spend hiking the woods with his pets, and his friend and colleague Dr. Edward Smith. There, he is approached by an old friend, an archeologist Mr. Laurence Franklin, who needs his help to find his dog, which has been abducted, and an ancient document, which is stolen. Always for a good adventure, the professor sets off, accompanied by his dog, bird and horse, his friends, and a beautiful French actor whom he comes across in the woods. Soon, things start to happen- and the stranger in the team is suspected of a murder- until they come across an old foe. However, the clever young professor soon realizes whom to suspect. So he, like a tiger, waits for the right opportunity to pounce. Walk the path of adventure with ‘The Missing Scroll’

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zorba Books
• Release date: Oct 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9789393029997

Ekoparnika Mukherjee

Ekoparnika Mukherjee is just 12 years old and a student of class VII of the Delhi Public School, Ruby Park Kolkata. She is an avid reader and an animal lover. She is fond of creating imaginary individuals, who often represent her own spirit and temperament. She is interested in ancient Egyptian language, and different forms of linguistics.

Book preview

‘Now, by carefully pulling apart the cerebral cortex, you’d be able to see the stem of the brain. This so-called brain stem consists of the midbrain and the pons. The thin stalk tapering down from it is the medulla oblongata, which passes through the vertebral column and becomes, of course, the spinal cord.’ explained the professor. ‘Now, are there any questions?’

‘I have a question, Professor Hilton.’ said one of the students, standing up. ‘Yes?’ Professor Hilton asked, turning to face the student.

‘Well, sir, I don’t think I understand how a brain can pass a huge amount of information as well as an ample number of instructions to several parts of our body at the same time in less than a millisecond. How is that possible?’

‘Well, our bodies are built that way. The Sulci and Gyri are all connected to sensory and motor nerves, which carry information back and forth. They are like very efficient messengers while the brain is like a government, only much faster. Okay?’

‘Actually, sir, I still have doubts about the speed.’

Professor Hilton smirked. The students all looked at each other. No one ever knew what the slightly eccentric professor was going to do next.

Come here, then.’ He said quietly.

The student left his desk and walked slowly towards the professor, suddenly a bit nervous. He knew it was a bad idea to have tried to annoy the unpredictable Professor George P. Hilton. The professor gestured him to turn around and face the other students.

‘Everyone please check your watches!’ cried Professor Hilton.

The instant the student turned around, Professor Hilton smacked him on the backside. The student jumped and turned around instantly, bewildered. The professor patted him affectionately on the shoulder.

‘Well, to the ones checking their watches.’ he said. ‘Did you notice that it took only about a millisecond for him to get scared silly and jump like an hare? Well, that’s how fast it is. Thank you, students. Class is dismissed!’

The students all stood up and applauded as professor Hilton walked out. It was already a bit dark outside. The professor walked back home, lost in thoughts.

Professor George Hilton lived in a two storey house all by himself and had a huge backyard. As he opened the gates, two big glowing eyes suddenly appeared in the darkest corner of the yard. The eyes were at quite a distance from the ground, and were slowly moving towards the professor. They moved closer by the second and suddenly, appeared a magnificent black Friesian horse.

‘Hello, Jasper!’ Professor Hilton greeted the horse with enthusiasm. Jasper the horse neighed joyfully, placing his long snout on Professor Hilton’s head and rubbing it gently against the latter’s thick brown curls. Then came a sound similar to pattering of feet, and an extremely beautiful border collie bounded up to his master, and looked at the latter with his loving brown eyes. Professor Hilton hugged the dog and lovingly ruffled his silky golden-white coat.

‘Hi Sherlock! How’ve you been?’

‘Wuff!’ replied Sherlock, rolling over in his joy.

Professor Hilton laughed and entered his house. He turned on a table lamp, lit a fireplace and then sat down in his armchair and lit a cigar. Sherlock jumped onto the chair and curled up on his lap. Professor Hilton puffed away at his cigar, fondling the dog’s droopy ears and staring at the fireplace.

The next morning, Professor Hilton was woken up by Sherlock, who had pulled off his bedclothes and was busy licking his fingers.

‘Good morning, Sherlock!’ he said. ‘But please stop licking my fingers. You’re making my hand all wet. All right! I’m getting up!’

Suddenly, a magnificent looking golden eagle glided into the room a smoothly swooped down to perch on the bedside table.

‘Hi Storm!’ cried Professor George Hilton, stroking the bird’s smooth head.

‘Bunkum! What a storm you all are creating! And now, Jasper is stamping his hooves too! Gosh! Just wait a bit, okay? I’m coming.’

Within a few minutes, Professor Hilton was out of bed, fussing around and feeding his pets. The day happened to be Saturday, so he wasn’t in a hurry. Just as he finished his breakfast, Sherlock growled.

‘Good alarm bell.’ Praised the Professor, and shocked his visitor by opening the door before the person could even reach out to press the doorbell. It was David Lions, the boy who often brought and posted for him his letters and telegraphs, and sometimes delivered his weekend newspapers to his door.

‘Good morning, Dave.’ He said gently to the surprised teenager. ‘What’s up?’ ‘I, um, I brought you a letter, sir.’ stuttered David.

‘Thank you, Dave.’ replied Professor Hilton, adjusting his spectacles on his straight Greek nose and taking the letter from the boy’s hand. David, in spite of being slightly nervous of the professor, rather liked and admired him and his good looks. George Patrick Hilton, a man in his early thirties, stood at a height of 5 feet 10 and ½ with a straight back, robust physique, tanned complexion, dark brown curls, intellectual brow, piercing dewy-blue eyes, straight Greek nose, clean-shaven face, deep gentle voice and a boyish smile. As David stood there admiring the professor, he suddenly became aware of something flying past his head. He looked up to discover that it was Professor Hilton’s bird which had flown out through the open door and dashed after a sparrow perching on a branch of a tree nearby. David turned to the professor, a bit puzzled.

‘Why didn’t you stop the bird, sir?’ he asked.

‘I let him out once a day, so this isn’t a big surprise for him.’ explained Professor Hilton. ‘I needn’t stop him. He’ll come back when a call him.’

With that, he suddenly started whistling a little tune. Storm, upon hearing the whistle, gave up the chase rather cheerfully, returned and landed on his shoulder.

‘See? Told you!" exclaimed Professor Hilton, smiling. ‘Thanks for bringing the letter, Dave.’

‘Good day, sir, said David and left.

‘Well, well, well. What have we here?’ muttered the professor, gently slitting the envelope open.

Professor Hilton proceeded to read the short letter aloud. This is how it went: Dear Professor George Hilton

I hope you are aware of the fact of our university having been ranked among the top universities of the country. The students have been demanding a short leave as a form of celebration. Since we don’t have anything exceedingly important at hand, managed to rank the highest in the country and declared the examination results, all the students, teachers and staff have been granted a holiday which stretches till the next Monday. Formal notices would soon be provided.

Yours Sincerely

J. Tucker Alfred

Professor Hilton burst into laughter.

‘Looks like Dr. Alfred was in a terrible hurry!’ he spoke to Sherlock, who was sitting nearby, listening with his droopy ears pricked up and his head cocked to one side.

‘He didn’t even bother to write a proper letter!’ said the Professor. ‘Golly! Why didn’t he phone all of us? It would have saved him an awful lot of trouble! Anyway, we got 8 days of holiday before us, starting from tomorrow. What do you think, Sherlock? Should we go on a hike?’

‘Wuff wuff!’ barked Sherlock, wagging his head up and down.

‘Let’s get packing, then.’ said Professor Hilton, nodding at him. Both the man and the dog stood up together and went upstairs. Half an hour later saw all of them outside. Sherlock and Jasper walked alongside Professor Hilton, while Storm perched on his shoulder. It was a few hours after lunch that the doorbell rang again. Professor Hilton put on his spectacles, which he had kept on the table near his old armchair, where he had been sitting, thinking deeply. He and Sherlock together ran down the stairs. When the Professor answered the door, he was surprised to see a huge black Labrador.

‘Hi, Rex.’ Professor Hilton said gently, patting the dog on the head. ‘Where’s Larry?’

‘I’m here.’ panted a man, running up to him from across the street. He was a man of a giant frame, with black hair, glowing green eyes and a large curled mustache waxed at the tips. ‘Rex ran too fast, George. I had to gallop at top speed to catch up with him,’ panted the man, as he shook hands.

‘Rex rang the doorbell?’ professor Hilton asked, surprised.

Larry smiled proudly.’ Yes.’ He replied. ‘He’s a clever boy, George.’

‘I know’ said George. ‘Come in, Larry. Rex? That’s right, Sherlock. Bring him in.’

Soon, the two friends were sitting at the fireplace with cups of Earl Grey tea and the dogs with a piece of chicken jerky each. Larry spoke busily,