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“Quite so, Mr. Grub. Good day to you!”
“An’ to you, Cap'n!” said Grub, touching the peak of hiscap.
Burton strode on.
As he neared his front door, he heard: “Read all about it!Lincoln declares slaves free in Confederate States! Read all aboutit! Emancipation for slaves in America!”
The king's agent whistled in wonder. He spotted little OscarWilde and called him over.
“Big news, eh, Quips?”
“Aye, that it is, sir!” The boy exchanged a newspaper forcoins.
Burton read out the headline: “Lincoln's EmancipationProclamation. Well, well! That'll make things difficult for Pam! Itlooks to me as if America's president is every bit as cu
“We have really everything in common with America nowadays,”said Quips. “Except, of course, language.”
The king's agent chuckled. “Emancipation!” he a
Three harvesters stalked past on their tall legs, each withcrated goods swinging in netting below their bodies. The second ofthem had somehow developed a limp, and as it thudded past, itsdamaged leg made a rhythmic complaint: creak-ker-chang,creak-ker-chang, creak-ker-chang.
Burton recalled Sir Charles Babbage's hatred of noise.
“The fact is, Captain,” said Quips, “that civilisation requiresslaves. The Greeks were quite right there. Unless there are slavesto do the ugly, horrible, uninteresting work, culture andcontemplation become almost impossible. Human slavery is wrong,insecure, and demoralising. On mechanical slavery, on the slaveryof the machine, the future of the world depends.”
The famous explorer watched the three huge mechanised insectsstriding away. People scattered from their path. Voices were raisedin anger, fists shaken.
“Maybe so, young ‘un. Maybe so.”
He bade the urchin farewell and mounted the steps of his home,glancing up at the boards that covered the hole where his studywindow used to be. The builders were due tomorrow to effectrepairs.
“William Trounce is upstairs,” Mrs. Angell informed him as heentered the hallway.
“You're back!”
“I am, Sir Richard. And a good thing, too. I don't know why, butI've been under the impression that you promised to have the placeclean and tidy. I suppose all the sea air must have gone to my headand filled me with fu
“I'm sorry, Mother. There's been a great deal happening. Ihaven't stopped!”
“Have you made us safe?”
“Yes. The Tichborne business is over and done with.”
“Good. Get yourself upstairs, then. I'll fetch some cold cutsand pickles for you and your flat-footed friend.”
Burton leaned forward and pecked her on the cheek. “Angell byname, angel by nature. What would I do without you?”
He bounded up the stairs, past the wrecked study, and on to thelibrary.
“Trounce, old man!” he declared as he entered. “It isundoubtedly a splendid day!”
“Gibber-mouth!” Pox squawked from his perch.
The Scotland Yard man rose from a chair, put a book aside, andshook Burton's hand in greeting.
“Thank goodness you're here!” he exclaimed. “I've had to bearthe brunt of it all by myself. I don't think I've ever beeninsulted so assiduously-and that's saying something for apoliceman!”
“Sit down. Take a brandy. Smoke a cigar,” said Burton, throwinghimself into an armchair.
Trounce sat and squinted at him suspiciously. “By Jove, youalmost look happy! I didn't know that infernal face of yours wascapable of such an expression!”
“I'm full of good tidings! Brunel has designed a new and moreefficient voice-producing instrument-no more of that awfulding-donging-and, at this very moment, he's fitting one to HerbertSpencer. Our clockwork philosopher will be speaking by the end ofthe day!”
Trounce clapped his hands together. “That's tremendous! What'she going to do with himself? It must be rather awkward, beingmechanical!”
Burton produced a cheroot and applied a lucifer to it. “He wantsAdmiral Nelson's old job-wants to be my valet. Says he doesn'ttrust anyone else to keep him fully wound. And he wants to write;says he's never had such clarity of thought and already has threevolumes completed in his head-he just needs to scribble ’em down.If he uses my autoscribe, he'll be knocking them out at twenty tothe dozen!”
“A wind-up author!” exclaimed Trounce. “That really takes thebiscuit!”
“It's a publisher's dream,” Burton declared.
“Flap-tongued baboon!” sang Pox.
The king's agent drew in smoke, put his head back, and blew outa perfectly formed ring.
“Good news regarding Sir Roger, too. The Arundell family hastaken him in, and Brunel is fitting him with power-driven arms, thesame as those worn by Daniel Gooch. That'll certainly compensatefor his missing limb. Nothing doing with the face, though; I fearthe poor soul will be behind that iron mask for the rest of hislife.”
“Will he take up residence at Tichborne House?”
“Yes, and he's adamant that the dole will continue to be paidevery year. He still believes in Lady Mabella's curse.”
“I don't blame him. His family has had nothing but trouble sinceSir Henry broke his ancestor's vow.”
Burton jumped up and said: “What about that brandy, then?”
He crossed to the chest of drawers by the door and returned witha decanter and a couple of glasses. He poured generous measures andhanded one to his friend.
“How's Honesty?” he asked as he returned to his armchair. “Hashe recovered from his injuries?”
“More or less. He'll not have use of his hand for a while. He'staking a month's leave. I think the sight of all those animatedcorpses pushed him to the brink. I've never seen him so u
“It is,” Burton smiled. “And the correct one.”
“So let's have it. Tell all.”
The famous explorer took a gulp of brandy, put his glass aside,and said: “Acting on a recommendation from my extraordinarilytalented and brilliant assistant-”
“And perverted,” Trounce added.
“And perverted-the government has purchased the seven FrancoisGarnier Choir Stones from Edwin Brundleweed. They will, I'm happyto report, continue to reside in Herbert Spencer's babbage brain.The government has also bought the seven South American fragmentsfrom Sir Roger. Palmerston wants to ensure that all the Eyes ofNaga are in British hands. It's a matter of state security.”
“So now they are. What of it?”
“Two of them are, Trounce. Two of them.”
The detective inspector frowned and shook his head. “There areonly two. The third has never been discovered. It's somewherein-Oh.”
Burton's eyes glinted. “Africa!” he said.
“You mean-?”
“Yes, my friend. Tomorrow I shall start putting together anexpedition. I'm off to search for the third stone, and, while I'mat it, I mean to locate once and for all the source of the RiverNile!”
“You're going to put yourself through all that again?”
“Don't worry, old man. With the government funding theexpedition and Brunel supplying vehicles for the initial stages ofthe safari, I think I can safely predict that this attempt will bea great deal less traumatic than the last!”
Pox let loose a terrific shriek: “Bollocks!”