Read Online Expedition to the Mountains of the Moon (Burton & Swinburne) by Mark Hodder - Free Book Online

until someone comes for him.”
    “The coroner is on his way,” Burton reported. “May I ask a couple of favours of you?”
    “Of course, anything I can do.”
    “We need to borrow three rotorchairs. We have to fly to Leeds immediately.”
    “Take mine, Jim Hunt's, and Charlie Bradlaugh's. They're on the front lawn. I'll walk you to them.”
    “Thank you. I presume Mrs. Angell has gone to bed?”
    “Yes. I gave her one of my best guest rooms.”
    “Would you ask Captain Lawless to accompany her and Fidget to the airfield in the morning? Trounce, Algy, and I will have to fly there directly from Leeds. We'll see to it that the rotorchairs are delivered back to you later in the day.”
    “I'll take her myself, Richard. I want to see you off.”
    Monckton Milnes escorted his friends out of the house and to a group of flying machines parked in the grounds. As they walked, he pulled Burton back a little from Swinburne and Trounce and whispered, “Has this any connection with your mission to Africa?”
    Burton shrugged. “I don't know. It's certainly possible, maybe even probable.”
    They reached the rotorchairs and Monckton Milnes watched as the three men placed their hats in the storage boxes, put goggles over their eyes, and buckled themselves into the big leather seats.
    “See you later, chaps,” he said. “And best of luck!”
    They started their engines, which belched out clouds of steam. Above their heads, blade-like wings unfolded from vertical shafts and began to spin, rotating faster and faster until they became invisible to the eye.
    Burton gave his friend a wave, then pulled back on a lever. The runners of his machine lifted from the grass and it rose rapidly on a cone of vapour. Swinburne and Trounce followed, and the three rotorchairs arced away and vanished into the night sky, leaving silvery white trails behind them.

    An orange glow lit the eastern sky as three flying machines descended onto the cobbles of Black Brewery Road. Two of them touched the ground gently; the third hit it with a thump and skewed sideways for five feet amid a shower of sparks before coming to rest.
    “Ridiculous bloody contraptions!” Trounce cursed. He turned off the engine, waited for the wings to fold, then disembarked and joined Burton and Swinburne.
    It was their third landing in Leeds. The first had been to ask a constable on his night beat for directions. The second had been outside the Tattleworth Tobacconist on Meanwood Road.
    Mr. Tattleworth, swearing volubly at his rude awakening, had eventually confirmed that he knew Peter Pimlico.
    “A bloody thief,” he'd said. “What you might call a denizen of the underworld. But a regular customer. Lives a couple o' streets away. Number seventeen Black Brewery Road.”
    They could have walked, but, preferring to keep their vehicles in sight, they took off and almost immediately landed again.
    “It's this one,” Swinburne said, pointing at a terrace. “Let's see how many profanities our next customer can spit at us!” He reached for the door knocker and banged it with gusto.
    After a couple of minutes and a second attack on the door, a gruff and muffled voice came from behind it.
    “Oo's thah?”
    “Police,” Trounce barked.
    “Prove 'tis!”
    “I have credentials,” Trounce said impatiently. “Open up and I'll show you.”
    “Ah durn't believe thee. 'Tis a trick. Thou b'ain't no trapper. A tallyman, more like!”
    Swinburne squealed. “Ha-ha! Tallyman Trounce!”
    “Oo were thah?” came the voice.
    “Algernon Swinburne!” Swinburne called. “The poet!”
    There was a moment of silence, then the voice said, “Ah durn't need owt pottery fro' thee! Be off an' durn't come bah!”
    “Sir!” Trounce bellowed. “Open the blasted door this very moment or I'll kick the damned thing in!”
    The rattle of a chain sounded and a key turned in the lock. The door opened a crack and a rheumy eye peered out.
    “Wah durst thou want? Ah aren't dressed. Am havin' us