Gideon Smith and the Brass Dragon by David Barnett Read Free Book Online

resolve his confusion regarding his feelings for the mysterious Maria. A clockwork-powered automaton with the pilfered, living brain of a dead London streetwalker, she was a scientific marvel, wrought by the genius of the missing scientist Hermann Einstein. But the effect she had on Gideon’s heart could not be explained by a thousand scientists or a million formulas. He had denied what he felt for too long, and when he had finally reconciled his head with his heart, it had been too late. Louis Cockayne had betrayed them and stolen Maria away from him.
    â€œWas there any news while we were away?” he said, by way of trying to force Maria from his thoughts.
    â€œAnother letter from the Grosvenor Square Residents’ Committee,” said Mrs. Cadwallader. “Complaining about Mr. Bent being … indisposed in the communal gardens on more than one occasion.” She slapped her palm against her forehead. “Oh! Land’s sakes! Your coming home has quite put me out of my mind! News! Of course! Mr. Bram Stoker!”
    â€œThey have recovered his body from the Rhodopis Pyramid?” said Gideon.
    â€œHis body? No, Mr. Smith! He is alive! He arrived home safe and well just after you departed for the Pacific!”
    Gideon gaped at her. Stoker alive? It was impossible. The Irish writer had been crushed at the bottom of the collapsing pyramid. Elizabeth Bathory herself had seen him die—indeed, the noble vampire had taken his blood from his shattered body to enable her own escape from the ruined monument. There was a tinkle of bells from the hall. Mrs. Cadwallader said, “Tradesmen again. Or autograph hunters.”
    Gideon raised an eyebrow. “Autograph hunters?”
    â€œThey come with copies of World Marvels & Wonders for you to add your signature to. I shall get rid of them.”
    Gideon remembered the first time he had knocked at the door of the house on Grosvenor Square, the high hopes he had for Captain Lucian Trigger. He didn’t know then, of course, that Trigger was merely the public front and that it was Dr. John Reed who was the true adventurer, doing the Crown’s bidding in secret. “No, don’t send them away,” he said. “A signature costs nothing.”
    As Mrs. Cadwallader went to the door Gideon retreated back to the dining room, where Bent was rolling a cigarette in his meaty fingers. He saw Gideon and nodded toward that morning’s Illustrated London Argus, on the table beside his typewriter.
    â€œSeen this? Only another Jack the effing Ripper attack, two days ago.” He shook his head. “Quality of reporting’s gone right down the shitter since they shifted me to the penny blood.”
    Gideon turned as Mrs. Cadwallader coughed and showed in a familiar tall, thin man wearing his customary tails and carrying his topper in the crook of his arm. His cane tapped on the wooden floorboards and he arched one gray eyebrow, fixing Gideon with his unflinching stare.
    â€œMr. Walsingham,” said Gideon.
    Walsingham nodded. “Mr. Smith. Mr. Bent. I heard you had returned.”
    â€œYes, that’ll be the hour we spent being debriefed by your chaps at Highgate Aerodrome,” said Bent.
    â€œQuite so,” said Walsingham, smoothing his mustache with white-gloved fingers. “A rather successful expedition, so I believe. You have returned one of our most eminent scientists and our beloved Professor of Adventure back home. Well done.”
    â€œAll here,” said Bent, tapping the sheaf of papers before him.
    Walsingham held out his hand. “You have written your first fully-fledged Gideon Smith adventure for the penny dreadful? Excellent. I shall give it the once-over, Mr. Bent, and dispatch it to them myself.”
    Bent narrowed his eyes. “You’ll censor it, you mean?”
    Walsingham shrugged. “Merely edit out anything that might prove … damaging to the Empire.”
    Bent reluctantly