The professor left, still shedding stray fragments, and then Roberta turned to me. "While he prepares himself, you and I will put his study in order."

  I surveyed the wreckage, and it occurred to me that a carpenter and a glazier would be more suited to the job. Still, Roberta and I did our best, and within ten minutes we'd righted the shelves, replaced most of the contents and swept up the broken glass. I collected the scattered bronze cylinders, and as I did so I noted the writing on the labels, much of it faded and hard to read. There were names and dates, and I realised the professor's capturing days had spanned a decade or more. Indeed, one of the oldest cylinders, labelled 'C. Dickens', was dated December 1841, some thirty years earlier.

  "Ah yes," said Roberta, as she saw me inspecting the faint handwriting. "Father calls that one the spirit of Christmas past."

  I was still staring at the name. "Is this—"

  "Indeed. Father claims to have caught that particular phantasm in the great man's study, but he's been known to embellish a tale."

  I handled the cylinder with reverence, placing it on a varnished wooden rack with a dozen others. Was it possible the spirit trapped within had been the inspiration for the author's famous tale? A shiver ran up my spine at the thought. Imagine if that phantasm were now freed after so many years. Imagine the fury, the chaos, the destruction wreaked upon man, beast and property alike!

  "Do not fret, Septimus," said Roberta. "The spirits within these capsules are secure, and cannot escape."

  "Unless your father decides to release them, so that he might practice his swordplay."

  She glanced towards the weapon, which now lay on the professor's desk. "He can be impetuous at times," she admitted, "but you must admit, it was wise of him to test the new device on a weaker spirit. After all, it is likely we shall face a more powerful adversary at the Snetton residence, and if the weapon did not work here, in the safety of his study, then what use would it be against a deadlier foe?"

  I shuddered as I recalled the distorted, terrifying visage of the phantom I'd barely succeeded in subduing. "The weapon drove it back, but the professor's glasses only showed the foul being when it was directly before me, and I almost within its grasp. Had it moved any faster, I would have had no chance at all!"

  "Father is working to improve the lenses, but the process is slow, and the materials are costly to obtain." Roberta glanced towards the door. "Here is father now. Let me fetch the equipment, and we shall be on our way."

  Chapter 20

  We left the house together, with the professor sporting a top hat and walking stick, Roberta in her work overalls with her long hair concealed under a cap, and myself wearing my best coat and trousers. Roberta and I carried a haversack each, while the professor, unburdened, strolled ahead. He showed no ill-effects from his most recent catastrophe, and I assumed his remarkable recovery owed more to the restorative power of brandy than to his ablutions.

  Upon reaching the street, Roberta raised her arm to signal a passing cab, but the professor waved it by. "We are not wasting money on hansom cabs," he proclaimed, "and furthermore, I will not travel on the underground. Come! The high street is but a few moments walk, and there we shall catch the omnibus."

  He set off without waiting to discuss the matter, stepping into the road directly in the path of a horse and cart. The driver hauled on his reins, bringing the heavy vehicle to a sudden halt, then proceeded to curse the professor loudly, creatively and at great length.

  The professor tipped his hat in apology before forging ahead, this time stepping in front of a speeding cab travelling in the opposite direction. The cabbie swerved at the last second, and we lost sight of the professor behind the towering horse and shoulder-high wheels. Once the driver had regained control, he stood in his seat and shouted uncouth epithets over his shoulder at the professor, who appeared oblivious to the commotion.

  "Come quickly, before he is run down," muttered Roberta, and she took my hand and pulled me into the road. We crossed more carefully than the professor, but the street was so busy we were forced to dart between moving vehicles with little care for our own safety.

  Upon reaching the other side, we found the professor waiting to chide us. "You must keep a faster pace!" he said impatiently. "I have no wish to waste an entire afternoon on this expedition."

  I felt this was a trifle rich, as it was his last-minute experiment with the forked weapon that had delayed us in the first place. Then, after eyeing Roberta's knapsack and inspecting my own, I realised the device was nowhere in sight. Had he forgotten to pack the thing? "Professor, where is the new weapon?" I asked him, already fearing the response.

  "Did you not bring it?" he enquired.

  "No! I thought you had picked it up!" I exclaimed, my voice anguished.

  We turned as one to look across the busy road, and at the professor's house beyond. A stream of carts and riders and cabs moved in both directions, and the thought of crossing that hellish stretch once more left me cold. Why, just last week a pedestrian had been grievously injured on a nearby street!

  "Well, I dare say we won't be needing it," said the professor at last. "After all, there is no evidence Lady Snetton was killed by a phantasm."

  Roberta and I exchanged a glance, and I knew we shared the same opinion. "I shall fetch the weapon," I declared. "It will take but a moment."

  "If you must," said the professor, with an airy gesture. "Roberta and I will proceed to the high street. If you cannot find us, it is because we have caught the omnibus and gone ahead of you."

  The professor departed without waiting for my response, swinging his cane in time to his paces, his top hat at a jaunty angle. Roberta remained long enough to squeeze my hand and whisper "I had better get after him" before hurrying after her father.

  I confess I was taken aback by the speed with which my fellow travellers abandoned me, but consoled myself with the thought that I could find the Snetton house without too much trouble. Moreover, if they reached the residence and encountered trouble of a most unnatural kind, I would arrive soon after with the professor's new weapon, giving me the opportunity to prove my worth by saving the day.

  I hurried across the road, avoiding the worst of the traffic, and let myself into the relative calm of the Twickhams' house. It took me but a moment to reach the professor's study, where I found the weapon atop the desk. I took it up, fastening it to my pack, and was just turning to leave when a thought occurred to me. With the professor and Roberta absent, could I not use this opportunity to look around a little?

  "Mr Jones, whatever are you doing?"

  At the sound of Mrs Fairacre's voice I leapt fully twelve inches into the air. The housekeeper was standing in the doorway, regarding me with the sort of expression reserved for brush salesmen, thieves and wayward children. "Th—the professor s—sent me back for his w-weapon," I stammered, as my heart threatened to burst from my chest. It was pounding nineteen to the dozen from the shock, and I wasn't sure it would ever slow to normal pace again.

  "And you have it?"

  "Yes ma'am."

  "Then why do you tarry in his study?" she demanded, in a sharp tone of voice. "Come, out with you this instant!"

  As she ushered me from the room, closing the door firmly behind us, it occurred to me that Mrs Fairacre was more terrifying than any phantasm I had encountered to date. She was implacable and unshakeable, and, should I happen to fall on the wrong side of her, I had no doubt my life would become the worse for it. "I must take this to the professor," I said, indicating the weapon attached to my pack.

  "Tell him dinner will be set for seven," said Mrs Fairacre, her severe expression softening at the mention of the professor.

  "We may be later than that."

  The hint of humanity vanished. "In that case," said the housekeeper brusquely, "he shall have a cold supper instead."

  I departed the house at speed, partly at Mrs Fairacre's urging, and partly due to the fact the professor and Roberta were currently en-route to the Snetton residence without me. At that moment a hansom cab hove into view, and I came to a rapid decision. While the professor and Roberta negotiated the route by public omnibus, moving slowly through the late afternoon traffic, I myself would take the underground train! In this way I would arrive at the same time, if not sooner, and I would be on hand with the newly-retrieved weapon before they commenced the investigation into Lady Snetton's murder.

  Fortunately, I had funds enough for the journey, and as I gave the driver my destination and settled back in my seat, I decided this was the way to travel.

  – — Ω — –

  I bought a ticket at Kensington Station and took the underground to Westminster. During my journey I marvelled at the engineering prowess involved in the construction, which seemed new to me even though I had travelled the same route the previous day. This time, without Roberta in close proximity, I found I had more time to inspect the tunnel, and the design of the carriages, and the method by which the lights were fed from bags of coal gas installed atop the roof.

  But before long my thoughts turned to my travelling companions once more. Somewhere above me, I knew, Roberta and the professor would be making their own progress across the city. At least, I hoped they were, for it would be unfortunate indeed if they had decided to wait for me in the high street near the Crown and Feather. Even now, they might be glancing impatiently down the road, expecting me to appear at any moment, and instead I was travelling at speed in the opposite direction.

  I resolved to wait for no more than one hour at the Snettons', and if the pair of them did not arrive by then, I would abandon the errand and take the underground home once more. No doubt we would laugh at the unfortunate mix-up, and postpone our investigation until the morrow. After all, the unfortunate Lady Snetton was already deceased, and I did not think she would be unduly troubled if we delayed our investigation into her demise for a day.

  Once the train reached its destination, I climbed the stairs and emerged in the street. After looking in vain for a cab, I decided instead to walk the short distance to Lady Snetton's. It was a sunny afternoon, my haversack was not excessively heavy, and, of more significant import, I did not wish to spend any more of my own funds.

  The streets in this area of London were much quieter than those surrounding the professor's residence, and many of the carriages were elaborate, highly-polished affairs that might have suited Queen Victoria herself. I felt out of place despite my tailored coat, and the haversack on my back did little to dispel the impression of a wandering salesman. I had every right to be there, but even so, I felt the gaze of the fine ladies and gentlemen in their carriages, who no doubt feared I would lower the tone with my very presence.

  As I approached the Snetton residence I saw the windows had been shuttered. Whether it was due to mourning or the rest of the family having departed, I could not tell, but in either case the forlorn sight gave me pause. I could not very well knock upon the door, and so I decided to wait nearby, in the street. I had passed a fashionable tea-room on my way from the station, and I was tempted to return and take a table. However, barely had I taken two steps when I realised my idea was unsound. Who knew where the professor and Roberta might disembark from their omnibus? How could I tell which route they might take to reach my current location? No, I would have to wait within sight of the Snetton house, closed shutters and all. It was the only way I could be sure to encounter Roberta and the professor.

  There were trees lining the street, and bedraggled and ill-looking though they might be they still afforded a little shade. I stepped under the nearest and turned towards the house, keen to observe any signs of life. As I stood there I pulled out my pocket watch, discovering it was still twenty minutes until five o'clock. The sun would not set for two or three hours yet, and I relaxed a little as I realised there was plenty of time until nightfall. I tucked my watch away, and that's when I saw a small procession walking towards me. At the head was a large woman carrying a basket at her hip. She wore a frilled cap and well-used workclothes, and I realised she must be a washerwoman. Behind her trailed three small children, each struggling with their own basket, which in the case of the youngest child was almost as big as she was.

  I stepped back as the group approached, but the woman stopped under the tree and set her basket down, clearly intending to rest. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, glanced at me, then nodded towards the house. "Terrible thing, that was. Couldn't walk down the road yesterday without there was so many people gawkin'."

  Terrible it might have been, but she spoke with some relish, and I guessed the death had been the talk of the area. "A tragedy indeed," I intoned gravely. "Tell me, do you know what happened? I only heard that the poor lady passed in her sleep."

  "You a blue devil?"

  "I'm sorry?"

  "A rozzer." She spat in the gutter. "Police."

  "Oh no, most certainly not."

  "You wiv' the newspapers?"

  "I work with papers," I said, skirting the truth.

  She spat in the gutter again. "Load of hoity-toity trash."

  "I cover financial matters."

  "Pity."

  "Why's that?"

  "Our Mavis, she had a tanner from a newspaper feller once. Said 'e wanted a story from her." She looked at me shrewdly. "What will you give me for answerin' questions?"

  I thought of the dwindling supply of coins in my pocket, and decided I could spare a penny or two. Then I happened to notice the woman's children. Their clothes were old and oft-mended, although clean enough, but as to footwear I saw that two of the children lacked shoes, while the other sported a pair of tatty boots which were far too large for her feet. All three looked tired from carrying the washing, and my heart went out to them. "Here," I said, pushing a handful of coins at the woman.

  "What's this, then?" she demanded, her voice laden with suspicion. "I ain't doing nothin' more than answer questions, and if you have a mind to anythin' else I'll yell for a constable, so 'elp me."

  "No, no," I said, trying to placate her. "The money is for you. My, er, editor will reimburse me."

  "Well, I don't know that I 'ave that many answers," said the woman doubtfully. Despite that, the coins disappeared inside her dress remarkably quickly. "But you ask away, sir. Ask away!"

  "What have you heard about the death? Was there any foul play involved?"

  The woman lowered her voice. "Some say the 'usband did it. Naval gentleman, he is, and they're used to all that killin', ain't they?"

  "I thought he was posted overseas?"

  "Nah, 'e's a big nob at the Admiralty. Lord something-or-other." She gestured. "Gentlemen like 'im, they sleep at their clubs instead o' coming home late. Afeared of robbers and the like. Or maybe afraid of wakin' their wives, what with the whisky and cigars on their breath."

  "So his Lordship was not at home yesterday?"

  "I ain't his housekeeper."

  "Of course, of course."

  "But I heard tell 'e was terrible upset this morning. Wailing and shouting and the like. Linda's boy what does deliveries, he heard the fuss and said the language was shocking."

  I began to think my money had been ill-spent, but consoled myself with the thought that some of it might make its way to the children. Also, I had nothing better to do until the professor and Roberta appeared, and I was far less a suspicious figure in conversation with the washerwoman than I would have been standing under the tree by myself.

  There was one question I desperately wanted the answer to, but I was afraid the asking would mark me as a madman. I could only imagine the washerwoman's reaction if I enquired as to any sightings of ghosts in the vicinity. Most likely she would draw up her skirts and leave post-haste, with the children following in her wake like over-burdened ducklings. But forewarned is forearmed, as they say, and the confirmed presence of a spirit would be useful news indeed to the professor. Roberta, too, might view me favourably.

  Also, assuming the woman had no further titbits to impart, was there truly any loss in asking my question? She might huff a little, and withdraw from my company, but that was all. But then, before I could ask, I saw the familiar figures of the professor and his daughter approaching along the road. "Thank you ma'am, for your patient replies to my query. Do please have a pleasant afternoon."

  "Pleasant afternoon, is it?" She took up the large basket of washing, then gave me a look. "Some of us 'ave to work for a crust," she said tightly, and then, after an impatient gesture at the children, she departed.

  As the professor and Roberta drew closer, I noticed they were walking some distance apart. Was this the result of some argument? Had they fallen out during the omnibus ride? Then they got closer still, and I was overwhelmed by the smell of fish. Plucking a handkerchief from my breast pocket, I pressed it to my nose in an attempt to block the stench. "Whadever happered?" I managed, speaking indistinctly through the wadded cloth.

  "Septimus!" cried Roberta. "However did you get here first?"

  "I took the underground train," I replied, removing the handkerchief so as to speak more clearly.

  Roberta gave her father a meaningful look. "You see, father? Even Septimus, with limited means at his disposal, saw fit to spend a little extra so as to avoid the omnibus."

  The professor grunted in reply, and at this point I realised that it was he who stank of fish. Indeed, I could see silvery traces all over his coat. Some traces had deposited themselves on his top hat, and while I couldn't be certain, I thought I spied a patch on his cheek.

  Roberta, meanwhile, was struggling not to laugh. "Unfortunately, the omnibus was rather crowded, and a lady carrying a parcel of fish lost her footing as the carriage moved off. My father, bless him, managed to save most of her catch before they landed on the floor."

  "Not intentionally!" snapped the professor. "That blasted woman threw them all over me!"

  "You did complain to her about the smell," said Roberta mildly.

  "Gah!" snarled the professor, and he whirled around to look at the house. "Is that the residence?" he demanded, pointing at it with his walking stick.

 

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