Steampunk story
Alright, having received feedback on chapters two and three (everyone thank zanthia494), I'm going to go ahead and post chapter four.

I've actually written up to chapter six so far, but I don't want to post five without six, because people may hate me, and I'm not ready to post six quite yet. I may wait a day, since I'm not entirely satisfied with it, yet.

However, I thought I would go ahead and post chapter four. Once again, your thoughts are absolutely welcome and encouraged, even if it's a simple comment saying, 'I like it' or 'I don't like it'.

Chapter One: In Which Mr. Jonathan Darby is Given a Strange Assignment.
Chapter Two: Our Unlikely Hero Boards a Train And Learns of His Role in Things to Come.
Chapter Three: Personal Revelations are Exchanged on Board a Train.
Chapter Four:

Chapter Four: The Tale of the Mysterious Flying Man

The rest of the train ride to Highbridge, including a change of trains in Bath, was uneventful, with no more revelations from Henry. The two men kept to themselves, with Jonathan contemplating the situation that awaited them in Highbridge watching Henry brood in silence, his thoughts unreadable. Thus when they arrived at their destination, an air of tension and anticipation had arisen between them.

“Don’t you worry none, John,” Henry said. “I’ve done this sort of thing before. Just don’t say nothing to no one, and it’ll all work out fine.”

“That’s very… reassuring, thank you,” he replied.

The two men, luggage in hand, stepped off of the train and made their way off of the train platform and out into the dirt street. Highbridge was near the mouth of the river Brue, making it an excellent location for shipping. Since Brue was used to transport goods farther inland, a market had arisen in Highbridge which made available all of the things which were shipped past and then spread across the countryside.

Since the town saw so much traffic in and out, it was easy for the two travelers to find an inn where they could store their belongings. Leaving the innkeeper with a half sovereign and a stern word against theft from Henry Furnis, the pair walked across town to the local branch of the Herbert and Georges Bank of London.

Since Highbridge was not a major port town, it held the dubious distinction of having misters Herbert and Georges own the largest bank in it, which, as Jonathan presently discovered, was quite dubious indeed. The bank was a shabby wooden building that was one of many in a row. It had a stone foundation that may have dated from the Roman occupation, but the remainder of the building was much newer and much less impressive.

Henry, leading the way, climbed the few small steps at the entryway and went inside. Jonathan blinked as he looked around at the inside of the building. It was surprisingly nice. Everything was well-kept and seemed to be in good order, including the counter and protective bars.

“Good day, sirs, and welcome to Herbert and Georges Bank of London,” the clerk said. He was a portly man, wearing a double-breasted vest that barely contained his girth.

“Good day, mister…?” Henry said.

“Ah, Watkins, sorry, sir.”

“Mister Watkins, I see. My name is Mr. Furnis, and this is my assistant Mr. Darby. We are here on behalf of Misters Herbert and Georges to look into your recent ah, problem, shall we say.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” The change in Mr. Watkins was immediate. “I’ve hardly slept at all since that awful day.”

“I’m sure it was terrible for you,” Henry said, giving a wink to Jonathan, who didn’t return it and instead cleared his throat.

“Good sir, I do not appreciate your disposition!” Mr. Watkins said. “I know full well how strange a tale it is, but it is nonetheless true. I swear it on the bones of my mother!”

“Calm down, Mr. Watkins. No one said anything about your poor old mum, God rest her soul. Now tell us about the money.”

Mr. Watkins seemed content to calm down, and invited them both into the back office. He unlocked the metal door and after they had walked in, he locked it again. Once they had all sat down around the office table, he began his tale. “It was on Tuesday, three days ago, that it happened, sir, and I’ve never seen the like of it in my entire life, nor do I hope to again. It was nearly closing time, so I was putting away my ledgers in the back and preparing to close the safe. All of a sudden, I heard the front door open and close. I yelled out, “We’re closed, come back tomorrow!” but there was no answer, and I didn’t hear the door again. After a few moments, I went to go deal with whoever came in, but no sooner did I turn around than he was standing right in front of me! He rightly scared the beejesus out of me, he did! My poor heart still hasn’t recovered. So I asked him what he was doing, and he said that he was going to make a withdrawl. He had a pistol in his hand, so I wasn’t going to argue, right, Gents? Well anyway, he went into the safe and took some valuables, but no coin. He told me to stay here in the office and that if he saw me before he got away, he’d just as soon shoot me dead. Now, this whole time I was thinking that I must have somehow left the door unlocked, and that I was a damned fool. Well, after counting to ten, I ran outside to go make a fuss and call the police, but I’ll be damned if the door wasn’t locked from the inside. That was when I saw it, the thing that gave me nightmares. I ran to the window to call for help, and what do I see but that same man flying away! Not flapping his wings like a bird or anything, but just as sedately as you please, floating off into the sky.”

There was a long silence. “Mr. Watkins,” Henry said, “are you a heavy drinker?”

Mr. Watkins slammed his hand down on the table. “God damn it, man, I’m telling you the truth! I thought I was crazy, too, at first, but I looked outside afterward and I could see where the man’s footprints just stopped.”

“Okay, okay, not a drinker, then, are we?” Henry said. “Can you describe this man for us? What did he look like, any distinguishing features, and the like.”

The trio heard the front door open and close, and Mr. Watkins yelled out, “We’re closed for lunch! Come back later,” and then, to Henry, said, “He was tall, with dark black hair. His clothes were very nice, he didn’t look like any thief that I’ve ever seen. They all have a kind of wild desperation in their eyes; this man’s eyes were like ice. It gave me chills, it did. He also had-“

Mr. Watkins was cut off when Henry abruptly raised his hand. “Wait,” he said. “Someone came in, but no one left.”