'Rage !'

Evening - Wed 12th Sept 1888.

efore it was simply a curious job, now it was personal. A guest in his own home had been brutally slain, this time, it would be war.

The police soon arrived, the district surgeon was astonished by the injuries Camellia had sustained.

"You say the dwarf shot her ? Incredulous. I know of no weapon which could cause such a wound."

"Are you calling me a liar sir ?" Replied Bing slowly getting more and more angered by the blundering fools.

"Of course not. It's just that ... "

"Just what Twyford ?" Said Chief Inspector Brownlow coming thought the door.

"Nothing sir."

"Right off with you to the morgue. Sorry to meet you again in such awful circumstances, Mr Richardson."

"Quite alright."

"Perhaps I can ask a few questions about the incident ?"

"By all means. I'll tell you what happened first." Bing told Brownlow about what happened.

"So there were no Russians or anarchists, just this peculiar midget. Most perplexing. I would suggest you don't stay here any more, the fiend may come back !"

"You're quite right, I'll stay at my club, while I'm hunting for him."

"Mm perhaps it would be best if you left it to the professionals now ! It might have prevented this tragedy."

Bing fumed, but saw the wiser course of action. "Certainly, I expect I've got quite a backlog of work to catch up on at work."

Bing left soon after unwilling to stay in the room with the flat footed fools and the body.

"Mm I need some new leads. I'll check the opium den tonight, but will he return there ? He seemed very active, not like one who'd turn to the drug again. This Sir Aubrey fellow I think I'll check on him, he seems to be involved in some way !"

"Maxwell my dear friend how are you ?"

"Glorious Bing, simply glorious. You've given me a new lease of life with your puzzles and conundrums. Marvellous. Do you know what one of my research students saw outside my laboratory while we were experimenting with the ape ? Ball lightning, that's what. Floating by the window. Melted half the drain pipe."

"Ball lightning, " burst in Bing. "Do you think it's related ?"

"must be. I've conducted further experiments and we've had it every time. I'm starting to get the hang of this engine of yours, it's going to cost me a fortune in chimps. Perhaps I better rustle up some lunatics from Bedlam. They couldn't be worse off than they are now, maybe it'll cure'em even. Fascinating prospect."

"Can I ask you about Sir Aubrey ?"

"Of course dear fellow. Fire away."

"Can you give me his address ? Who does he work for ? What's he like ?" It's best to get all the questions in first with Maxwell.

"Well he lives in a villa on Cavendish Avenue, St. John's Wood, right near the cricket pitch. It's number 8 I believe. He's a government scientist, their best. Comes up with all sorts of interesting stuff. He's a great character, married a real dragon though, so he's a bit of a one with the ladies."

"Thanks very much Maxwell, good luck with the experiments."

Off to St. John's Wood thought Bing as he hailed a cab. Number 8 was a secluded villa, set back from the road. As he reached for the bell-pull he noticed some fresh bullet holes in the plaster. He rang the bell. After a few moments, movement was heard from within and the door was opened a crack. A woman peeked out.

"Good afternoon. I wonder is Sir Aubrey at home ?"

The woman started to cry, hiding her face in her handkerchief. She was well dressed, about 35 and still quite handsome.

"O he's dead and I don't want anyone of you dark lantern types hanging around. What will the neighbours think ?"

"I apologise for my intrusion, but it was most urgent that I spoke to Sir Aubrey. How did he die may I ask ?"

"Well he must be dead. He's been gone for the past six days and what with all the murders and general mayhem that's being going on, he must be dead !"

"Mayhem ?"

"Yes, well right where you stand the police found a dead German agent, shot through the heart. My own butler was brutally knifed to death in my kitchen and some thugs have looted my late husbands laboratory."

"What a dreadful occurrence, did they take much ?"

"They took it all. All his books, the weird engines and the pistons. I've been at my wits end ever since the Dower boy burst in."

"George Dower's been here ? When ?"

"No, not George, it was that obnoxious Eric. It was about twelve days ago. He burst in and rushed down to the laboratory. We didn't see him again, he broke a window and ran out."

"Thank you ma'am you've been a great help to me and I'll leave you to your grief."

Whitechapel was just as unappealing as before, the dirt and the grime seemed worse if anything. The squalid opium dens revealed no trace of either Dower.

Bing yawned, time to get a good nights sleep, a fresh brain will deal with the problems all the better.

An early morning to try and trace Eric failed, nobody remembered seeing him for at least a fortnight or so. Nobody had seen George either. The only curious event, occurred when Bing was walking down an alley near to the Dower's shop, he was sure he'd heard some crying and moaning, but when he went to investigate there had been nothing there.

"Must have been a cat !"

Back at his club, Bing found a letter waiting for him. His reply to the Camberley questions. The asylum was owned by one Doctor Pavlov, an immigrant Russian with revolutionary new ideas. Dr Powers was a bachelor, both his parents were dead, in Scotland and his study had been at the asylum and had gone up in smoke in the fire. Narbondo also lived there, but hadn't been seen since just after the fire.

Bing remembers the doctor as a slight man with a wispy moustache and wearing spectacles and of about thirty years of age. The matron was plump, rosy cheeked and grey hair.

Bing does know some notable people who are masons. Lord Salisbury, the Prime Minister, Sir Charles Warren, the Metropolitan Police Commissioner, Frederick Fifield, Chief cashier at the Bank of England, Bishop Challenger, Professor Maxwell, Lord Guiness, Mr Harrod, Lord Caverswall, Mr Tate and Mr Lyle, Charles Dickens and several members of the Royal family.