Dougal Macintosh, renowned mesmerist, dashingly swept through the Empire’s second city in his stylish black cape. Since Princess Victoria’s convenient demise, his family’s pneumatics concerns had risen dirigible-like through the smoky vapours of Glaswegian society. One brother devised the Pneumatic Analytical Engine, and the other headed the North British Atmospheric Railway Corporation, whose air-driven carriages vigorously thrust through the tunnels beneath the former Dear Green Place. Yet beneath his dark brocaded waistcoat beat a heart of jet-black dastardliness.
