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                                            Malarky’s Conveyance

                                             by Benedict J. Jones

               

 

Pitt smiled, to himself, as he stepped out of the Institute.  He adjusted his hat and skipped down the remaining steps.  Malarky was finished.  The thought filled Pitt with hope for the future.  Pitt’s report to the board of the Institute about what he had found at Malarky’s experimenting works in Southwark meant that the fiend would be cast out and that the police would be taking a great interest in the Professor.  But most of all it meant that Malarky would be out of dear Jane’s life forever.  Pitt checked his pocket watch.  He would have to hail a cab if he was to make it to breakfast with Jane and her father at the Langham.

A cab reached the kerb just as Pitt got to the bottom of the steps; its brass lamps glittered in the morning sunlight.

“The Langham hotel please driver.”

With that Pitt swung himself in and settled back in the heavily padded seat.  Thoughts of Malarky’s fate just about kept at bay the images seared onto Pitt’s mind from his visit to the experimenting works; hideous contortions of clockwork, steam and flesh.  Ruined faces atop steel bodies and the screams from the cellars.  How the man could call himself a scientist was beyond Pitt; the man was a butcher plain and simple.

Pitt moved his feet to provide more space for his long legs and felt something brush against his leg.  He looked down and saw an envelope on the floor of the carriage.  The previous passenger must have dropped it.  Pitt picked it up intending to either give it to the driver when he alighted from the conveyance or deliver it back to the owner himself if there was an address on the envelope.  His heart lurched when he saw the name written on the paper – Mr. Arthur Pitt, his name.  He opened the envelope and took out the paper from within holding it between his thumb and fore finger like something he had pulled from the sole of his shoe.  Gingerly he unfolded the letter and began to read....

My dear Pitt, by the time you are reading this I shall be safely ensconced on the boat train and be well on my way to the continent.  If you had the same powers of observation as myself then you would have noticed the subtle differences between the conveyance you have entered and a normal hansom.

Pitt looked around the cab; the windows appeared a little thicker than normal, the padding around the interior seemed heavier and the air staler than was usual.

Thanks to you my work has had to be paused but, rest assured, once I have found a suitable location my experiments will continue.  A mind such as yours cannot grasp the importance of work to mankind.  I felt, however, that I could not leave without leaving you a gift of our parting.

The windows are of my own design and cannot be shattered, even by a bullet.  Said gunshot would not be heard on the street if it was fired from within the cab.  Behind the padding is a half inch of steel which even you, oh my clever Pitt, will struggle to find your way through.  You will now be thinking of the driver and his beast and I am sorry to tell you that although they may look like your everyday cabbie and equine friend they too are my creations.  They require neither sustenance nor rest and will continue to move the conveyance around London until they wind down (by my calculations that will be ten years from now in 1903).  The thought of your mummified body being found a decade hence cheers me heartily as I head for a new life in foreign climes.

Pitt beat on the window with his stick but to no effect.  He felt bile rise in his throat and forced it back.  He took up the letter once more and continued to read.

In conclusion you may as well sit back and admire the sights.  I believe you were to have breakfast with my Jane and her troublesome father?  Well the conveyance will pass by the Langham so you may be able to catch a final glimpse of her. 

I am no devil and so have provided a small breakfast hamper for you with some cold cuts and a flask of brandy.  You really should not have meddled in my affairs Pitt, we would both have been happier had you not.  Although they say Au revoir where I am going I believe that goodbye says it better between us, as there shall be no next time.

Yours

Professor K.M. Malarky

 

 

 

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