Read Online Gideon Smith and the Brass Dragon by David Barnett - Free Book Online Page A

couldn’t have had us land at North Beach Aerodrome and steam-bussed us in, though.”
    Terra firma within his grasp, Bent seemed more jovial, too. He nudged Gideon in the ribs. “That’s because we’re vee eye effing pees, ain’t it? Very Important Personages, that’s us. The Hero of the Effing Empire and his faithful chronicler.”
    Gideon said nothing. As Rowena studied the orders from Walsingham and began to swing the Skylady III around and down toward the grand Governor’s Residence on the east side of the Albert Gardens, his head and heart still danced high in the thin air far above them.
    *   *   *
    The Governor of New York, Edward Lyle, was a rotund man whose finely cut purple velvet jacket and black breeches proudly showed off his portly physique like a badge of office. He had thick, bushy eyebrows, one of which seemed permanently arched as though he questioned everything, and his mop of unruly dark hair was partially hidden beneath a stovepipe hat, taller than the current London fashion dictated.
    â€œThe Yanks try to do everything bigger than the Brits, even their effing hats,” murmured Bent to Gideon as they descended from the gondola to the stone apron adjacent to the Governor’s Residence. Bent nodded to the opulent building. “Very grand. Ruskinian Gothic, if I’m not mistaken. Not a bad pile.”
    Lyle was accompanied by half a dozen soldiers in dusky blue livery, each one flint-eyed and mustachioed, their wide-brimmed hats bearing the crossed-sabers insignia of the American Cavalry. Each shouldered a modern slide-action twenty-four-inch octagonal-barrel Winchester. Gideon smiled inwardly; he was getting quite adept in the recognition of arms.
    The governor stepped forward to greet the arrivals. He was a full head shorter than Gideon, and he pushed back the stovepipe on his head to properly look at the adventurer, his eyebrow arching even more sharply as the setting sun slid over the balloon of the Skylady III.
    â€œMr. Gideon Smith!” declared Lyle, holding out his hand. “It is a great honor to have the Hero of the Empire here in New York.”
    â€œIt’s an honor to be here,” said Gideon, shaking the governor’s hand. He thrilled slightly at the lilt of Lyle’s American accent.
    Lyle turned and took Rowena’s hand, kissing it softly, and said, “Miss Fanshawe, the Belle of the Airways. And Mr. Aloysius Bent, esteemed man of letters.”
    â€œYou’ve done your homework, Governor,” said Bent, though Gideon could tell he was more than satisfied with Lyle’s appellation.
    Lyle inclined his head. “No need for mugging up, Mr. Bent. Your exploits have thrilled America as much as Britain, I dare say.” He clapped his hands together. “Now, you must be exhausted after your long journey. There are rooms for you all in my humble residence yonder, and doubtless you’ll be glad of a good night’s sleep. If I might be so bold, however, to suggest you might freshen up and then join me for a spot of dinner? We have much to discuss.”
    â€œDinner?” said Bent. “I like the cut of your jib, Lyle.” He wiped a dark stain off his waistcoat and sniffed suspiciously at the shoulder of his black jacket. “Shall we skip the freshening up, though, and cut straight to the chase?”
    Gideon bowed his head. “Your hospitality is most welcome, Governor. We would be delighted to join you.”
    As Lyle and his soldiers led the way across the apron toward the huge residence, Gideon looked up at the soaring towers where gas and oil lamps were flickering into life against the encroaching darkness.
    *   *   *
    Bent poked with a carving knife at the carcass at the center of the oval mahogany table as he suppressed a belch. “Damn fine bird you served up there, Lyle. What do you call it?”
    Lyle sat back in his chair, deftly unfastening the