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“What still remains unclear is what actually happened duringthat second expedition. He took with him a young soldier namedJames Augustus Grant-I don't know if he was a Technologist or aRake, but one or the other, I should think-and they used swans tofly to Kazeh. Speke failed to properly guard the birds and lionskilled them. That was the first of a string of disasters thatforced him to return to Zanzibar. When he arrived there, Grant wasno longer with him. Speke claimed that his colleague had died offever and was buried near the shore of the lake.”
Burton dropped back into his armchair and said: “He alsoreaffirmed that he'd discovered the source of the Nile-but, again,his evidence was pathetically flawed.”
Swinburne grunted his agreement. “He was scheduled to give afuller account at the Bath Assembly Rooms last year. Instead,knowing that you were going to expose the scale of his ineptitude,he shot himself in the head. Oliphant abducted him from thehospital, and the Technologists replaced the damaged half of hisbrain with a clockwork mechanism.”
“Babbage's prototype. I never understood why they did that untilnow. Bismillah! They still needed him to show them where thediamond was. But then the Spring Heeled Jack affair occurred, theTechnologist and Rake alliance diverted their resources tocapturing Edward Oxford, and Speke was left trailing about afterthem, awaiting further orders. When I defeated the alliance andkilled Oliphant, he fled.”
Swinburne twitched, jerked, and jumped to his feet.
“Where do you suppose he is now?”
“Brunel says he's in Prussia.”
“Hmm,” Swinburne hummed. “I wonder why there? Could he havearranged the Brundleweed theft?”
“Are you suggesting he's making a play for the Eyes?”
“Yes, I think it quite likely. If Darwin and his croniesimplanted that device in his head to somehow impel him to retrievethe African Eye, is it not possible that it might also have drivenhim to acquire the Cambodian diamonds? If Speke or the allianceresearched the matter, they will know that there were three Eyesand that the Choir Stones are the fragments of one of them.”
“You're making a lot of sense, Algy. In which case, if theTichbornes really do have the South American stone and Speke isaware of it, they'll be his next target.”
“Then let's stop chinwagging and get ourselves to TichborneHouse!”
Swinburne leaped to his feet and ran to the door. Burtonfollowed.
“Really, Algy, there's no need for you to come.”
They descended to the ground floor.
“There's every need! You know how trouble dogs your footstepsand you're obviously not at the peak of physical fitness. Whatbetter time to call on your faithful assistant for support? I say,speaking of dogs, where's that blasted basset hound of yours?”
“Fidget? I don't know. In the kitchen with Mrs. Angell,probably.”
“Well, he can jolly well stay there, the brute! What sayyou?”
“I have no objection, and I'm certain he doesn't either, whatwith the scraps of food my esteemed housekeeper throws into hiswelcoming maw.”
Swinburne screeched and clapped his hands together. “I meanabout me coming to Tichborne House with you, you buffoon!”
Burton smiled, took his assistant's top hat from the stand, andpushed it down over the little poet's mop of red hair.
“Very well, Algy. In truth, I'll be glad of your help, though Imust confess, I was looking forward to using the rotorchair. I likeflying! It's a shame the contraptions are single-seaters. I supposewe'll have to resort to the train.”
“No we won't.” Swinburne gri
“Why, it's Captain Burton and Mr. Swinburne!” Miss IsabellaMayson exclaimed. “How lovely to see you again. Come in! Comein!”
Doffing their hats, the two men stepped into the SPARTAbuilding.
“I've just made some soup. Will you join us?”
“Thank you, that would be most welcome,” said Burton. He andSwinburne followed her through to the kitchen. As they crossed thethreshold, a heavenly aroma assailed their nostrils, and there camean exclamation: “Hallo, hallo! Welcome to the chamber of bloomin’miracles, gents!”
It was the voice rather than the face they recognised, for thevagrant philosopher Herbert Spencer had blossomed into somethingthat might almost be called respectable. Above all, he lookedcleaner; his beard had been shaved off, his large side-whiskerswere combed, and the thin border of curly hair around his bald headwas now short and neat, rather than wild and straggly. He'd filledout, too, losing the hungry gauntness that had marked him whenthey'd last met.
“I swears to you,” he said, shaking their hands, “there's nowoman what can cook like Miss Mayson in the whole blessedworld!”
“Herbert!” Swinburne said. “You look a new man!”
“It's the grub! This young lady here is a blinkin’ marvel withthe dogs an’ the birds, but I tells you, gents, in the kitchenshe's somethin’ else entirely! I ain't never indulged in victualslike it.”
“Thank you, Herbert,” said Miss Mayson. “Would you set a couplemore places around the table, please? Our two friends will join usfor lunch.”
Moments later, the king's agent and his assistant were enjoyinga thick vegetable soup served with freshly baked bread.
“This is utterly delicious!” Burton declared.
“ Utterly utterly!” Swinburne added.
“Told you so!” said Spencer. “There ain't nothin’ sonourishing!”
“And you're obviously flourishing!” Swinburne rhymed.
“On which note, have you been ill?” Miss Mayson asked of Burton.“You look a little jaundiced.”
“I have been, yes. I suffer occasional bouts of malaria. Theattacks are decreasing in frequency since my return from Africa butthis latest was a bad one. Flying your swan through a rainstormdidn't help.”
“That were a nasty night, Boss,” Spencer observed. “I came downwith the sniffles meself.”
“As a matter of fact, Miss Mayson-”
“Isabella, please!”
“Isabella. Swans are the reason for us dropping by. I was hopingwe could hire a couple.”
“The last time you borrowed my swans, two were killed and onenever came back,” the young woman noted, with a wry smile.
Burton nodded in acknowledgement. “I trust Scotland Yardcompensated you?”
“Very generously, as a matter of fact.”
Spencer waved his spoon and a
“It's on his beat, Herbert,” Miss Mayson protested.
“Ha! He's givin’ you the glad eye, that's what it is!”
A faint blush coloured the woman's cheeks and she said:“Actually, I think that brain of yours is the attraction. Why, whenthe two of you start philosophising, I can barely get a wordin!”
She turned to Burton. “I have a couple of new swans that arefairly well behaved. For how long will you need them?”
“Two, three, maybe four days. We'll be staying at a countryhouse in Hampshire. I believe there's a large lake on the grounds,so they'll be quite comfortable.”
“’Specially if I come along to look after ’em!” Spencerinterjected.
“There's no need to trouble yourself, old fellow,” saidBurton.
“It ain't no trouble at all!”
Miss Mayson agreed. “It's an excellent idea. Swans can be ahandful, gentlemen, but Herbert has the magic touch. Even theparakeets love him! I would feel far happier if he went with you.There's sure to be a local village where he can put up, or maybeyour hosts will find room for him in the servants’ quarters?”
Burton considered the vagrant, and asked him: “Would you objectto rooming with the staff? It might be useful for me to have a manon the inside, as it were.”
“Don't worry, Boss, I knows me proper station in life. Servants’quarters are a step up for the likes o’ me!”
“Then I'll be very happy to have you accompany us to TichborneHouse.”
“Tichborne?” Spencer and Miss Mayson chorused.