Gideon Smith and the Mask of the Ripper by David Barnett Read Free Book Online Page B

surprised he hadn’t noticed it before.
    “Oh, Mr. Bent!” she said, standing and turning, the tray held in a pair of thick oven gloves. “You quite startled me, standing there. Has he gone?”
    “He has,” said Bent.
    “Good. I never liked him, not when he was bossing poor old Captain Trigger and Dr. Reed around, and not now.” She laid the tray down on the wooden work surface and lowered her voice. “It was him who sent Dr. Reed over the edge, I’m sure of it. Him and his … his machinations .”
    Mrs. Cadwallader raised an eyebrow expectantly, as Bent continued to stare thoughtfully in silence.
    “Mr. Bent? Did you want me to bring you some ale to the study?”
    “No,” he said slowly. “No. I think I’ll just pop out for a moment. Tell Gideon I’ll be back soon.”
    *   *   *
    Gideon poured tea into the china cups on the small table in front of the Elmwoods and sat back. Henry Elmwood was stiff and frowning, his collar high and tightly buttoned, his gray suit expensive and neatly tailored. His hair was parted in the center and brilliantined, reflecting the gaslights in the sconces fizzing and popping over the fireplace. Martha Elmwood was small and mouselike with a huge bonnet hiding her face, staring down at her fingers, which she constantly knitted and unfastened, speaking rarely and with a tiny, childlike voice when she did.
    “We appreciate you seeing us, Mr. Smith,” said Mr. Elmwood.
    Gideon sat back in the chair, putting his left boot on the right knee of his serge trousers, tugging at the open collar of his plain white shirt. It was warm in the parlor, warm in the entire house, with every fire blazing at Mrs. Cadwallader’s insistence. He ran a hand through his thick, black curls and said, “I was very touched by your letter. I’m just not that sure what I can do.”
    Mrs. Elmwood looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. “But you’re the Hero of the Empire, Mr. Smith,” she almost whispered.
    Yes, the Hero of the Empire. Charged by none other than Queen Victoria to keep Britain and her interests safe from threats at home and abroad. Dinosaurs and metal men and Texan warlords that were more machine than human, mummies and vampires and things that screamed in the night. Villains and monsters were Gideon’s bread and butter. But not …
    “Not missing persons, I’m afraid,” he said as gently as he could. “This is really a matter for the police…”
    “Pah, we’ve tried them,” said Elmwood with disgust. “Can’t do a thing for us. It was my wife’s idea writing to you. I told her, I said, ‘ He’s the Hero of the Empire, he won’t be bothering with the likes of us .’”
    Elmwood made to stand, but Gideon held up his hand. “Wait.” He had the Elmwoods’ letter in front of him. Their daughter, Charlotte, had been missing for three days now. It was indeed, he would have thought, a matter for the Metropolitan Police. Aside from one thing.
    “Your letter mentions Markus Mesmer,” he said. “Perhaps you had better start from the beginning.”
    *   *   *
    Gideon knew the name Markus Mesmer well, though not from firsthand experience. He had been a regular in Captain Trigger’s adventures in World Marvels & Wonders —adventures that Gideon, when he read them as a callow youth, had no way of knowing were actually the escapades of Dr. John Reed, disguised as the travails of Captain Trigger to present a more heroic digest of events for the reading public and to preserve Dr. Reed’s covert operations.
    Gideon could, even now, remember the words in the story “Escape from Bedlam,” from the April 1887 issue. My tale picks up where last month’s ended. You will recall that I had confronted Markus Mesmer, the criminal mastermind and grandson of the much gentler pioneer of “animal magnetism,” who had been controlling, through hypnosis, the minds of members of polite London society in order to fleece them of their valuables.…
    It was the central tale in a