Perkin Perkins woke to the sound of a faulty boiler. Being a man of experience, or as some of the other staff called him, old, he’d picked up on such things over his many long years of service. Whether confronted by a clunk, clank, clink, or something more overwhelming, as the thud, thud, thud was at this time, Perkins was quite capable of dealing with it. Anything was better than having Her Majesty awoken and the aftermath of such an event.
A cold moon illuminated Perkins’ room through his open curtains, which afforded him the ability to check his pocket watch; the time was midnight on the dot.
Perkins slipped out of bed and straight into his slippers, donned a dressing gown, and crept from his quarters.
The corridors of Buckingham Palace were never so quiet as those moments between on
