The River of Souls Read Online Free PDF Page A

enforced stay on Pendulum Island, the professor in the guise of a masked automaton had offered the statement and challenge: I am searching for a man . His name is Brazio Valeriani. He was last seen one year ago in Florence, and has since vanished. I seek this man . That for the present is all you need to know . I shall pay five thousand pounds to the person who locates Brazio Valeriani . I shall pay ten thousand pounds to the person who brings him to me . Force may be necessary . You are my eyes and my hands. 
    Seek, the professor had said , and ye shall find.  
    It sounded to Matthew as if Brazio Valeriani did not wish to be found. And mayhaps there was some desperation in Valeriani’s disappearance from Florence. Fear of Professor Fell? Of course…but exactly why did the professor want him? Certainly not dead, but brought before him by force to the tune of ten thousand pounds? 
    And Professor Fell had even approached Matthew directly about finding his quarry with the declaration: If you found him I would pay you enough to own that little town of yours . So the question remained: who was Brazio Valeriani, and why did the emperor of crime want him so badly? Badly being the operative word here, Matthew mused. 
    “Beautiful flowers,” said Mrs. Herrald as she surveyed the vase in the hearth. “Some of the most beautiful are often the most trouble to gather. Don’t you agree, Matthew?” 
    The problem-solver had no clue. He wondered who might be filling the woman’s ear about his difficult relationship with Berry Grigsby, if indeed this was her point. He decided at that clear and precise moment that he didn’t wish to be around Berry and her new beau. He didn’t wish to see them walking together and find them sitting at Sally Almond’s or drinking coffee at Robert Deverick’s establishment. No, Heaven forbid! It would be torture to have that sight thrust before him day after day! 
    Matthew sighed. It was the sound of a soul in pain, yet to Mrs. Herrald and the Great One it was simply a sigh of resignation. 
    “I believe I will go to Charles Town,” said Matthew. He nodded, his face more grim than gracious for this sterling opportunity. “Yes. I will pack my bag and take the packet boat.” He slapped his palms upon his desk for emphasis. “I do need a change of scenery. Do me some good, I think.” 
    “There you are!” grinned Greathouse. “The young man at last has come to his senses! And ,” he continued with a slyer smile, “added at least fifty pounds to our coffers!” 
    “Far be it from me,” Matthew relented, “to stand between a fool and his money.” Which made Greathouse’s smile slip a notch simply because Hudson wasn’t sure if he was the fool in reference or if it was Sedgeworth Prisskitt, but the morning was bright and the hills were green and the birds were singing and soon it would be time for a bowl of hearty corn soup and a mug of apple beer at Sally Almond’s, so all was right with the world. 
    That had been three weeks ago. Now, as Matthew stood beneath the Sword of Damocles and stared up into the black-bearded and ferocious visage of Magnus Muldoon, all was not so right with the world, even though the ballroom was ringed with silver candelabras that shed golden light and the air was perfumed with lemons and the faint tang of the Atlantic from Charles Town’s harbor only a few blocks to the east. 
    The challenge had been made. The duel offered. Matthew stood alone, as both the most beautiful woman in the world and her father had withdrawn to a more comfortable distance. 
    “What weapon then, you little piece of puff?” growled the Magnus mountain. His eyes were as sharp as two bits of flint, and ready to strike fire. “What do you wish to die by?” 
    Matthew cleared his throat. It was a polite sound. The problem-solver was ready to speak.

Three

"Would you agree, sir,” said Matthew in a quiet voice, “that any implement causing injury can be considered a