Free The Curious Case Of The Clockwork Man by Mark Hodder Page B

for services rendered and whatnot! Besides, I noticed that your shoes are never polished, your cuffs are frayed, and your collars need starching!”
    “Ever the detective. What on earth has my personal grooming got to do with anything?”
    “I’m suggesting, Captain Burton, that you’re in dire need of a gentleman’s gentleman—a valet!”
    “I have a housekeeper and a maid. Any more staff and I’ll be managing a ‘household!’”
    “Only those that need managing,” Trounce said. He winked at Bhatti.
    The young constable smiled and called: “Enter!”
    A figure of gleaming brass walked in, closed the door, and stood, whirring softly.
    Fidget yelped and dived behind a chair.
    “My hat!” Swinburne exclaimed. “Is that the clockwork man of Trafalgar Square?”
    “The very same!” Trounce answered. “Constable Bhatti has been studying him for the past three weeks.”
    “We found a key that fitted him in the priory,” the constable added. “Then it was just a matter of experimentation. As I suspected, the little switches at the front of the babbage dictate his behaviour. He can be rendered more aggressive, subservient, independent; you can set him to respond to any voice, specific voices, or just your own. What do think, Captain Burton?”
    Burton looked at each of his guests, then turned his gaze to the brass man.
    “Frankly, gentlemen,” he said, “I’m at a complete loss. You mean me to keep this mechanism as a valet?”
    “Yes,” Trounce said. “It will do whatever you tell it!”
    Bhatti nodded and added: “It has enough independence to perform tasks without needing to be told all the time. For example, if you order it to ensure that your shoes are polished by six o’clock each morning, then it will never need telling again.”
    “I wish I could say the same about my missus!” Trounce muttered.
    “Wait, Captain!” Bhatti said, jumping up. He strode to the brass man and stood in front of it. “Everybody remain silent, please. Captain Burton, would you say a few words when I nod at you?”
    “Words? What words?”
    “Any! It doesn’t matter!”
    The constable took a small screwdriver from his pocket, turned to the clockwork figure, unscrewed the small porthole in its “forehead,” and used the tool to click down one of the small switches inside.
    “The next voice you hear,” he told the device, “will be the only voice you obey unless it instructs you otherwise.”
    He turned and nodded to Burton.
    Rather self-consciously, the famous explorer cleared his throat: “I—er—I am Richard Burton and, apparently, you are now my valet.”
    The brass man turned its head slightly until it appeared to be looking straight at Burton.
    It saluted.
    “That’s its way of acknowledging your command,” said Bhatti. He reached into the porthole and flipped the switch back, then closed the little glass door and started to screw it into place.
    “One moment, Constable!” Burton interrupted. “If you are all agreeable, I’d like the device set to accept commands from everyone present, and Mrs. Angell, too.”
    “You’re sure?” Trounce asked.
    Burton nodded and pulled a cord that hung beside the fireplace. It rang a bell in the basement, summoning the housekeeper.
    When she arrived, he told her about the new valet, and Bhatti went through the process again with her, with Trounce, and with Swinburne.
    Mrs. Angell left the study, a bewildered expression on her face, while Bhatti joined the others around the fireplace and lit a pipe. He watched, smiling, as Burton moved over to the mechanism, looked it up and down, tapped its chest, and examined the little cogs that revolved in its head.
    “Useful!” the king’s agent muttered. “Very useful! Might I train it as a fencing partner?”
    “Certainly!” Bhatti answered. “Though you’ll probably find it too fast an opponent!”
    Burton raised his eyebrows.
    “Incidentally,” the constable added, “it’ll need winding once a day, and, if