To my dear sister Susan:

Your letter was waiting for me when I arrived in London yesterday. I am sorry to hear that Mother was so upset by the latest dime novel about me. Really, I've told you before that my outlaw days are long behind me, and that you can't trust anything those writers set to paper. Those people are only trying to make a living by telling fantastic stories, and if they have to make things up to put food on the table, then that's exactly what they do.

As a case in point, the dime novel you describe is almost entirely false, or at least not completely accurate. For one thing, Dr. Wang is not some evil crime boss overlord, or whatever it is the author claims. He is a legitimate Shanghai businessman, and for a yellow Chinaman is very gentlemanly. As an example, he was quite understanding after the incident and did not press any charges, and as for those tales of his opium trade, I can assure you they are greatly exaggerated. Likewise, that whole bit about the dockside warehouse is complete conjecture on the author's part, as the authorities, once I had conferred with them, agreed that I was an upstanding citizen of considerable means and could not possibly have had anything to do with that very large explosion.

In any case, please assure Mother that I am doing well in London. In fact, I have a new job, with the same company that I wrote to you about before, the B. F. & C. Stein and Company. They have been using some of my patented designs, and Eustace Piddingquick, one of their employees, was quite eager to have me work on one of his projects. Please tell Mother that we are working on a top secret project for the Admiralty that has absolutely nothing to do with rocketry. I know she will be happy to hear that. But just between you and me, Mr. Piddingquick is very keen on the same dream that I have long pursued, that of building a manned rocket, and he has some ingenious ideas for it, the likes of which I of course can't divulge. But suffice it to say that I am 100% behind this project! The nay-sayers may say what they will, I know that we will one day have the means to launch a man into the upper limits of the sky, and perhaps even into the ether!

Meanwhile, I am plagued by newspaper reporters who can only focus on my past. They were waiting in the lobby of my hotel this morning, eager to interview the one and only 'Kid Rocket'. I swear, I don't know but that this outlaw celebrity rubbish isn't going to get me into trouble sooner or later. A man, especially a man of science, not to mention a man of means as I so recently find myself becoming, would like to arrive in a new town like London with a chance to establish a new reputation for himself, to turn over a new leaf, a new chapter in his life, and get on with the business of being a humble inventor. But I find that these dime novel stories have preceeded me wherever I go, and everyone knows that I am the famous 'Kid Rocket'. Why I ever allowed that writer in St. Louis to christen me with that ridiculous name, I'll never know. It is just like that unfortunate incident that happened recently in Bombay, where our ship made port. Speaking of which, should any of that make it into a future dime novel, let me assure you right now that it is all lies and rubbish, and I was never anywhere near that spice market, nor do I know anything about that unfortunate man who died in that mysterious explosion. In any case, he was up to no good, and deserved what he got, or so I heard.

As a case in point, a man was murdered in a mysterious manner the night of my arrival. People saw a bright flash of light, and because of the reputation these dime novels saddle me with, all the reporters instantly connected it with my arrival. Luckily for me, the murdered man was the brother of someone at the B. F. & C. Stein and Company, and I had already heard some of the details of his death, so I was easily able to defend myself. For one thing, the dead man was all in one piece, with no signs about that one might typically associate with an explosion. It was easy to see that I wasn't involved.

Unfortunately while the police were persuaded, others were not so. In the afternoon I found myself in a position of being kidnapped by some strange gentleman from Prussia. Apparently his name is Herr Hans Bopp, and he was quite a master of accents, able to sound like a proper British citizen or even an American when he chose, but he is really quite stupid, because he not only thought I was responsible for the murder of the man I mentioned earlier, but he also thought I was a spy for the American government -- imagine, me an American spy? I am quite proud of my service in the Union Army, but that was years ago and there are still some lawmen out West that would cheerfully see me hang. So as you can see, Mr. Bopp is in some ways quite clever, but in other ways quite stupid, for to top it off he thought he could kidnap me without first tying me up or incapacitating me in some way. I'm afraid I had to get a bit rough with him and his assistant, and naturally it was in all the papers later. I would say that this marred my attempt to establish a new life as a successful inventor and a gentleman of means, but in point of fact I was able to meet some interesting individuals because of this. My only regret is that Mr. Bopp and his assistant escaped, largely because of my carelessness and the distraction provided by the arrival of the local lawmen and also this strange English tenderfoot named Wooster or somesuch, who tried to help me by throwing pub darts at Mr. Bopp, who I assure you was a well-armed man, quite capable of killing someone less skilled with pistols than myself. I think that had I not been there, Mr. Wooster would have been as dead as a rooster at a convention of insomniacs.

I would be happy to say that that is where things ended, for that was quite enough excitement for any normal person for one day, but in fact there was a great deal more to come. First of all, I met a man named Benton Frazer, who was as remarkable a lawman as ever I have encountered. He was able to determine exactly what had happened during our encounter with Mr. Bopp and his assistant based solely on the evidence at hand, reading the scuffle marks on the ground (for instance) better than any Indian tracker I have known. It was party due to his intervention that Wooster and I were not accidentally arrested.

After this, I was invited to the home of Sir Cosmo Cowperthwaite, who is not only another inventor friend, but who may turn out to be a benefactor of sorts, and who asked for my help in certain matters that he is currently trying to resolve, which are connected to Mr. Bopp and to the dead man of which I spoke. He has some very strange people in his employ, and seems a bit eccentric himself, but I have always felt that eccentrics make the best inventors, as they are quite willing to try things that no truly sane man would ever consider. Oh, but do not say that last part to Mother, you know how much she worries about me as it is.

In any event, we soon learned that another associate of Sir Cosmo's -- a Miss Sinclair, who worked as a governess -- was very likely in grave danger. I of course offered my services, and a group of us sped off in Sir Cosmo's remarkable horseless carriage. Thank goodness we were in time to prevent what may have been a very nasty scene. I helped disarm a dangerous man who was threatening the children of the estate, but in the ensuing confusion a rocket was fired into the ceiling (and I can assure you it was not one of mine, but one designed by Sir Cosmo), and after that there was a great deal of confusion. I can't rightly explain everything that I experienced, but according to some of my more gullible new associates, they defeated a woman who was casting a spell of some sort on the premises. You may take that in any manner you choose, and I can only hope that nobody learns of this adventure who might be inclined to write one of those dime novels. Those stories of me are unbelievable enough without including magic and whatnot.

The end result is that Miss Sinclair's job as a governess at that estate was ended, as you might imagine, but she was immediately hired in a similar capacity by Sir Cosmo Cowperthwaite, who is not married nor has any children of his own, but finds himself employing two children who clearly have not had a good education or a strict upbringing. But I am certain that such will not be the case with Miss Sinclair around. Also, we were introduced to a Sir Anthony Blakeney, who occupies a unique position in the British military and who is the superior of that man Benton Frazer whom I met earlier in the day. Sir Anthony expressed a need of my services in the future, and while I am most keen on pursuing rocketry, rather than playing the part of a gun-slinging adventurer, it seems that I will be pursuing both paths for the time being. But the good news is that I will be working closely with Sir Cowperthwaite, who has a keen mind and an interest in rocketry. The others I am working with also appear to be good friends, with the possible exception of that Lt. Henry Wooster fellow, who I must admit is a pleasant enough person and quite agreeable, until he opens his mouth.

Please give my love to Mother and Father, and to James and Polly and all of the others.

Until next time, I remain your loving brother,

Jebediah

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