The Steampunk Detective Read Online Free PDF Page B

Eventually they hovered under a line of other ships heading East.
    Jack noticed almost all of the ships were passenger or transport vessels with their company emblems emblazoned on the side. Only a few of them bore individual markings like the Lion’s Mane.  
    “That’s the Highbridge,” the detective pointed out. “Belongs to the Queen’s nephew. And there’s the Musgrave. Belongs to that industrialist fellow, Beets.”
    The sun broke through the cloud cover above them, dousing their vessel in patches of warm light. Jack leant against the window, took a deep breath and exhaled.
    For a moment – just a moment – the pain of his parent’s deaths seemed to evaporate. Sometimes he felt their deaths so keenly he wanted to burst into tears, but mostly he felt their loss like a lead weight strapped to his chest. The sensation was always there, a stifling heaviness that never disappeared.
    Now as he looked from the window the burden seemed to dissipate.
    Maybe this really can be a fresh start , he thought.
    Gradually Mr Doyle adjusted their trajectory and started their descent towards Flinders Park. They gently drifted through the smoke and fog below until the vista of roofs lay beneath them.
    “Can you see your home, yet, Miss Bell?” Jack asked.
    “Why, yes, yes I can,” she said excitedly. “I believe we can land in the street outside.”
    “I’ll bring us down,” Mr Doyle said.
    They slowly descended past the sea of rooves towards the footpath. A few curious passers–by slowed to watch them drift down into the street. They landed with barely a bump and Mr Doyle climbed out to secure the vessel to a nearby lamp post.  
    Miss Scarlet Bell’s residence was an apartment at the top of a three story building in a quiet back street of Camden. Jack and Mr Doyle followed her up the stairs until they reached the top floor. By the time they reached the final landing, Jack noticed Mr Doyle favouring his poor leg.
    Scarlet opened the door and looked in. “Father, are you home? Oh!”
    Her exclamation brought Jack and Mr Doyle into the room after her. They found themselves in a long narrow hall. A small side table lay overturned and the contents of its draw flung onto the floor. As they made their way through the apartment, they found it had been completely ransacked. The contents of every drawer had been taken out and cast onto the floor. Wardrobes had been emptied. The contents of cabinets were flung everywhere. The kitchen cabinets had been emptied, their contents unceremoniously flung onto the floor.
    “I assume this is not your usual standard of housekeeping,” Mr Doyle said gently.
    “Absolutely not,” Scarlet said, her face flushed with anger.
    “I’ll make tea,” Jack offered.
    “Good man,” Mr Doyle said.
    By the time Jack had finished and poured tea into cups, Mr Doyle had searched most of the apartment.
    “It seems you may have been correct in fearing for your father,” he said, patting the poor girl’s shoulder. “Whilst there is nothing to indicate he has been harmed, someone was certainly searching for something.”
    “I wonder if they found it,” Jack tipped some broken crockery into a bin.
    “It is impossible to say,” Mr Doyle said. “However, it seems likely they were unsuccessful. Scarlet, did your father own a safe?”
    She sat up. “Yes, how foolish of me. I should have checked it immediately.”
    They hurried to her father’s bedroom. A safe lay open in a wall behind a curtain. A few pages remained in the safe. Most of the other papers had been thrown over the floor. Some of them lay under bedding that had been dragged off the bed during the search.
    “It seems they did not find what they were seeking,” Mr Doyle said.
    “Are you sure?” Jack asked.
    Mr Doyle nodded. “This bedding has been thrown over some of the papers taken from the safe, so it seems the search of the apartment continued after the safe was opened.” The detective seemed lost in thought for a long