Free The Falling Machine by Andrew P. Mayer

me to notice a young lady sliding her bustle down a hallway, even if she was doing her level best to do it quietly.”
    Sarah felt a stab of panic rise up through her. “The others?”
    He shook his head. “No worries, Miss Stanton. I am the only one who knows of your current adventures in the Hall of Paragons. Uncovering things that are trying to stay hidden is my specialty, after all.” He took a look down at the Automaton, peering into his body where the light shone through. “The other Paragons express their considerable power using far more…direct means.” He slipped a magnifying glass from a hidden pocket inside his coat and focused it over Tom's shoulder, where the tin box had been before Sarah dislodged it. “I excused myself and left them to listen to the final words of our fallen leader. I'm sure they'll find them most upsetting.”
    Sarah closed her eyes. “Thank you for not saying anything.”
    He reached a hand down into Tom's torso. “Don't give me your gratitude yet, Miss Stanton.”
    Sarah felt a second tingle of fear run through her. “You wouldn't tell….I mean, there's no reason to…”
    He carefully and slowly pulled out his hand. A small cog, badly scored and bent, was trapped between his middle and index fingers. “There are some questions that need to be answered before I can safely say I'm willing to keep your secrets.” He pointed across the room toward the doors. “Follow me, both of you.”
    The grinding started up again as Tom rose, but this time he was able to move off the table. He took a tentative step forward, swaying dangerously before planting his next foot on the ground.
    The Sleuth nodded approvingly. “Simply creating a machine capable of mimicking human locomotion is an astounding feat, and yet Sir Dennis managed to build one that could mimic the mind of a man as well.”
    With each step Tom took, he seemed to teeter on the edge of disaster, but he managed to place the alternate foot down without falling. Sarah held out her arm. “Thank you, Miss…Stanton, but you cannot carry my weight, and I am afraid you will unbalance me if you try.”
    She let go of Tom, but stayed by his side as she spoke to Wickham. “Is it possible to simply ‘mimic’ thought?” she asked him. “Can something pretend to think and not be thinking?”
    He pondered it for a moment, and then smiled. “I'm afraid that uncovering the answers to those kinds of esoteric philosophical questions is quite outside the realms of my expertise.”
    The Sleuth strode toward the dark end of the chamber, his long legs giving him a gait that neither Sarah nor the broken Automaton could match. “My world is built from facts and the deductions I can make from them.” He turned his head and spoke loudly over his shoulder to them as he walked. “And currently it is one that is almost overwhelmed by a number of mysteries that have been much on my mind since the tragedy at the bridge.”
    “Could you slow down, please?” Sarah asked him.
    “Of course.” But his actual gait seemed to remain the same.
    “Tom,” the Sleuth said. “First question: who was responsible for the death of Dennis Darby?”
    Tom's voice rang out. “The…Bomb Lance.”
    “For his physical murder, yes. No question there.” The Sleuth stopped at the massive gate and waited for the others to catch up. “But that's not the same as having a genuine reason to kill a man.”
    Sarah tottered on her heels as she came to a stop. “He wanted the key.”
    “Clearly that. And, unfortunately for all of us, he got it.”
    “But why was it so important?” Sarah asked him. “What does it unlock?”
    “Dennis had a penchant for complicated metaphors. Men, machines…” He tapped his hand against the clasp holding the sliding doors together. “Keys, locks…” The Sleuth let his words trail off and regarded Sarah silently, wrapping his long fingers around his chin.
    She looked straight up at him. “You said you had some questions for