Free The Martian Ambassador by Alan K Baker Page B

expression and the shards of glass scattered everywhere. ‘Oh, my! Whatever ’as ’appened?’
    ‘Nothing, Mrs Butters,’ Blackwood replied. ‘A minor accident – do not concern yourself.’
    ‘But there’s glass everywhere!’ the housekeeper exclaimed. ‘An accident it may well be, but minor it most certainly ain’t! Oh my, oh my! Now, you take the young lady into the sitting room, while I fetch a dustpan and brush...’
    ‘Mrs Butters,’ said Blackwood in a tone which struck Sophia as grimly determined, ‘fetch the dustpan and brush by all means, but I will clean up the mess.’
    The housekeeper looked at her employer askance for a moment and then bustled out of the room, muttering, ‘Oh well, ’ave it your own way, Mr Blackwood. I’m quite sure I was only trying to be of service...’
    ‘And bring me the laudanum,’ Blackwood called after her, ‘for I have a damnable headache!’
    Sophia’s eyes widened a little at the profanity, and she raised a long-fingered hand to hide the smile that played suddenly upon her lips.
    Mrs Butters brought the cleaning implements and a little dark-brown bottle, which Blackwood took off her before ushering her out of the room. He went to a table by the window, on which stood several glasses and decanters, and poured himself a large brandy, to which he added a drop from the little bottle. Sophia watched him in silence. He seemed to have regained his vigour with remarkable speed, considering the horrific ordeal he had just endured. She waited patiently while he downed the brandy in two large gulps.
    Without looking at her, he said, ‘Let me assure you, Lady Sophia, that I don’t usually take this type of refreshment at this time of day.’
    ‘Not at all, Mr Blackwood.’
    ‘But I fear my manners have deserted me. Would you care for some tea, coffee?’
    ‘Thank you, no.’
    Blackwood brought forward a chair from a far corner of the room. ‘Please sit.’
    Sophia nodded her thanks and sat on the chair, while Blackwood, suitably fortified by the brandy and laudanum, busied himself with sweeping up the jagged shards of the cogitator’s scrying glass.
    As he worked, he said, ‘Notwithstanding my gratitude, I must confess I’m puzzled...’
    ‘In short, you’re wondering who I am and what I am doing in your rooms,’ said Sophia.
    Blackwood nodded.
    ‘The doorman let me into the building,’ she explained, ‘and when I reached the door to your apartments, I heard screaming coming from within. I entered as quickly as I could and found you in here, on the floor, with that... that unspeakable thing emerging from the cogitator’s glass. I knew that the only way to sever the link with the Æther was to smash the glass, so I took up the first object that came to hand, and...’
    ‘And saved me from shrieking madness,’ said Blackwood with a grim smile. ‘Again, thank you. But how did you get in so quickly?’
    Sophia opened her purse and withdrew a small metal device from which several sharp prongs sprouted.
    ‘A lock-pick?’
    Sophia nodded, a mischievous smile playing upon her lips.
    ‘Intriguing... but not as intriguing as the reason for your being here in the first place.’
    The smile faded as Sophia replaced the device in her purse. Lowering her voice to little more than a whisper, she replied, ‘I was given your address by Grandfather...’
    Blackwood barely hesitated as he swept the last of the shards into the dustpan. ‘Who?’
    ‘There is no need to feign ignorance, sir. You know of whom I’m speaking. I came here from the Bureau, at Grandfather’s suggestion.’
    Blackwood stood up and regarded his guest with a frown. ‘If you’ll forgive my saying so, Lady Sophia, you are full of surprises.’
    ‘An observation which I shall take as a compliment, Mr Blackwood.’
    He gave a slight bow, a sardonic glint in his eye, and was about to say something more, when a slight movement over Sophia’s left shoulder caught his attention, and he froze. One of