The Hunchback Assignments by Arthur Slade

Author:Arthur Slade
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: SteamPunk
ISBN: 9780385737845
Publisher: Random House, Inc.
Published: 2009-09-22T07:00:00+00:00

17

An Arrow Strikes Its Target

That same morning Oscar Featherstone awakened earlier than usual. He left his dreams behind, opened his eyes, and sat up. He blinked several times, removed his nightcap, and got out of bed. His body ached as though he’d been running for hours. As he removed his nightclothes, he noticed that his trousers, which were hanging on a chair, were spattered with sludge. There was a strong smell of sewage in the air. Having being cursed with a weak constitution, he waited for the inevitable bile to surge up his throat.

Nothing happened. Not even a cough.

He chose another pair of trousers, his favorite shirt, and one of his many vests. It was odd to be getting dressed, since he would normally lounge throughout the morning in his robe and nightclothes, then dress in the afternoon. Nonetheless, he shrugged on his frock coat and selected a top hat.

As he slipped on his shoes he had an inkling that something was wrong. He thought back to last evening’s meeting of the Young Londoners Exploratory Society. The details were fuzzy. In any case, nothing to bother about, he told himself. It was probably a particularly lively argument over the life span of beetles. He and Prince Albert would often have long discussions into the night over such matters.

He ran a gold-filigreed ivory comb through his hair and felt some satisfaction when it straightened with a slight curl above his ears. He wasn’t too modest to recognize that he was handsome. He was the son of a lord, after all. At dances he was very popular.

He carried his hat through the doorway to avoid bashing it on the top of the frame. There was an itch on the side of his neck, but he couldn’t make himself scratch it. How peculiar.

Oscar walked down the hallway, a continuous row of windows to his left. Outside it was misty, so he couldn’t see London. He felt the chill leaking through the windows. Far too cold to go outside. As he had no plans for the day, he would have Welles bring the Times to the study so he could read it while sipping his tea. The Illustrated London News was also delivered today. He would spend the whole morning reading. First, he would have Cook prepare a boiled egg and toasted bread.

He was surprised when he turned away from the kitchen, walked into his father’s study, and went straight to the desk. He hadn’t planned on doing that. His fingers found a key hanging under the desktop; his hand unlocked the third drawer down and withdrew his father’s pearl-handled vest-pocket pistol, a tiny death dealer that fired a single .22-caliber bullet. Oscar’s mind had become a flurry of thoughts flapping around like a flock of pigeons, but this had no effect on his actions. He pocketed the pistol.

Within moments he was outside the house. He felt the door as he closed it and the impact of his feet on the cobblestone path as he walked toward the stables.

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