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"Yes, sir."
He was handed the train timetable. The next atmospheric trainwas leaving in fifty minutes. Time enough to throw a few odds andends into a suitcase and get to the station.
THE THING IN THE ALLEY
The Eugenicists are begi
It was a fast and smooth ride to London.
Isambard Kingdom Brunel's atmospheric railway system was atriumph. It used wide-gauge tracks in the centre of which ran afifteen-inch-diameter pipe. Along the top of the pipe there was atwo-inch slot, covered with a flapvalve of oxhide leather. Beneaththe front carriage of each train hung a dumbbell-shaped piston,which fitted snugly into the pipe. This was co
When Brunel first created the system he encountered anunexpected problem: rats ate the oxhide. He turned to hisEugenicist colleague, Francis Galton, for a solution, and thescientist had provided it in the form of specially bred oxen whoseskin was both repellent and poisonous to the rodents.
The pneumatic rail system now ran the length and breadth ofGreat Britain and was being extended throughout the Empire,particularly in India and South Africa.
A similar method of propulsion was pla
Burton arrived home at 14 Montagu Place at half past six, bywhich time a mist was drifting through the city streets. As heopened the wrought-iron gate and stepped to the front door, heheard a newsboy in the distance calling: "Speke shoots himself.Nile debate in uproar! Read all about it!"
He sighed and waited for the young urchin to draw closer. Herecognised the soft Irish accent; it was Oscar, a refugee from thenever-ending famine, whose regular round this was. The boypossessed an extraordinary facility with words, which Burtonthoroughly appreciated.
The youngster approached, saw him, and gri
"Hallo, Captain! I see you're after making the headlinesagain!"
"It's no laughing matter, Quips," replied Burton, using thenickname he'd given the newspaper boy some weeks previously. "Comeinto the hallway for a moment; I want to talk with you. I supposethe journalists are all blaming me?"
Oscar joined the explorer at the door and waited while he fishedfor his keys.
"Well now, Captain, there's much to be said in favour of modernjournalism. By giving us the opinions of the uneducated, it keepsus in touch with the ignorance of the community."
"Ignorance is the word," agreed Burton. He opened the door andushered the youngster in. "If the reaction of the crowd in Bath isanything to go by, I rather suspect that the charitable are sayingSpeke shot himself, the uncharitable that I shot him."
Oscar laid his bundle of newspapers on the doormat.
"You're not wrong, sir; but what do you say?"
"That no one currently knows what happened except those who werethere. That maybe it wouldn't have happened at all had I tried alittle harder to bridge the divide that opened between us; been,perhaps, a little more sensitive to Speke's personal demons."
"Ah, demons, is it?" exclaimed the boy, in his high, reedyvoice. "And what of your own? Are they not encouraging you toluxuriate in selfreproach?"
"Luxuriate!"
"To be sure. When we blame ourselves, we feel no one else has aright to blame us. What a luxury that is!"
Burton grunted. He put his cane in an elephant-foot umbrellastand, placed his topper on the hatstand, and slipped out of hisovercoat.
"You are a horribly intelligent little ragamuffin, Quips."
Oscar giggled. "It's true. I'm so clever that sometimes I don'tunderstand a single word of what I'm saying!"
Burton lifted a small bell from the hall table and rang for hishousekeeper.
"But is it not the truth, Captain Burton," continued the boy,"that you only ever asked Speke to produce scientific evidence toback up his claims?"
"Absolutely. I attacked his methods but never him, though hedidn't extend to me the same courtesy."
They were interrupted by the appearance of Mrs. Iris Angell,who, though Burton's landlady, was also his housekeeper. She was awide-hipped, white-haired old dame with a kindly face, square chin,and gloriously blue and generous eyes.
"I hope you wiped your feet, Master Oscar!"
"Clean shoes are the measure of a gentleman, Mrs. Angell,"responded the boy.
"Well said. There's a freshly baked bacon and egg pie in mykitchen. Would you care for a slice?"
"Very much so!"
The old lady looked at Burton, who nodded. She went back downthe stairs to her domain in the basement.
"So it's information you'll be wanting, Captain?" askedOscar.
"I need to know where Lieutenant Speke has been taken. I know hewas brought to London from Bath-but to which hospital? Can you findout?"
"Of course! I'll spread the word among the lads. I should havean answer for you within the hour."
"Very good. Miss Arundell is also making enquiries, though Ifear her approach will have caused nothing but trouble."
"How so, Captain?"
"She's visiting the Speke family to offer her condolences."
Oscar winced. "By heavens! There is nothing more destructivethan a woman on a charitable mission. I hope for your sake that Mr.Stanley doesn't get wind of it."
Burton sighed. "Bismillah! I'd forgotten about him!"
Henry Morton Stanley, the journalist, was recently arrived inLondon from America. His background was somewhat mysterious; tracesof a Welsh accent suggested he wasn't the authentic "Yankee" heclaimed to be, and there were rumours that his name was false.Whatever the true facts about him, though, he was making a bigsplash as a newspaper reporter, having taken a particular interestin the various expeditions organised by the Royal GeographicalSociety. Befriending Doctor Livingstone, Stanley had sided with himagainst Burton in the Nile debate and had written some less thanflattering articles in the Empire, including one that accusedBurton of having murdered a boy who caught him urinating in theEuropean fashion during his famous pilgrimage to Mecca. As Burtonhad been quick to point out, his disguise, skill with the language,and painstaking observation of customs were convincing enough tofool his fellow pilgrims into believing him an Arab over a periodof many months; it was therefore quite unthinkable that he'd havebeen caught making so basic a mistake as to urinate standing up.Besides which, killing the boy would certainly have led to hisexposure as an impostor and a summary execution.