A Riddle in Bronze, page 17
I reached out and turned the device, as Roberta had done the day before. Moving it one way slowed the needles, while moving it the other made them swing like fury, until I worried they would fly off completely. Then, after I'd aligned it once more, the hands began to move so quickly they were but a blur. A haze began to rise from the device, and I felt rising alarm as I detected a smell of burning. I picked the device up, intending to slow the frantic motion with my fingers before locking the hands once more, but the metronome was so hot it burnt my fingers.
Shocked, I let go, and the device clattered on the hard wooden floor. The hands flew off, skating across the polished floorboards, and the metronome spun like a top before finally coming to rest on its side. In a panic at the damage I'd caused, I crouched to pick it up, using my coat for insulation. But when I gathered the thing, it was now as cold as a block of ice!
I set it down on the nearby desk, and could see frost glittering on the face. Then I remembered the missing needles, and I crawled upon hands and knees, seeking beneath various pieces of furniture until I had located all three. The largest had a bend at the very tip, but I straightened it without trouble, and then I returned to the desk and attempted to refit the hands. Each had a square hole bored through its thickest portion, a hole which fitted over the stepped peg protruding from the lowest point of the metronome's face. Once all three were positioned I latched them securely, and replaced the metronome in the bag.
Unfortunately, I did not know whether the metronome had signalled the presence of an ancient, malevolent danger, or whether I had merely set it up incorrectly. And, if I was foolish enough to describe the device's reaction to either the professor or Roberta, they would soon discover that I had been careless enough to damage it.
Caught in a bind of my own making, I decided to remain silent for the time being. And so, after gathering the materials and tools I had brought with me, I took to the stairs and returned to the ground floor.
Roberta was in the corridor, and she was surprised to see me descending the stairs. More surprised still, when she saw the haversack over my shoulder. "Whatever are you doing?" she demanded.
"I was inspecting the bedroom," I whispered, lest our host overhear me.
"There's no need to lower your voice. Lord Snetton just left the house in order to make funeral arrangements."
"Was his mood improved by your ministrations?"
Roberta gave me a look. "He spoke to me of his wife, if that is what you're asking." Then she glanced up the stairs. "I promised his lordship we'd leave immediately, but do you think we ought to…?"
"There is no need, for I found neither evil spirit nor phantasm."
"I am pleased you have already learned the difference between the two," said Roberta.
I kept my silence, for I suspected there was none, and she was merely chiding me after I'd suggested that Lord Snetton had received more attention than perhaps was proper.
"Incidentally, my father will be pleased with the outcome of this visit," said Roberta.
I thought of the damaged metronome. "Are you certain?"
"Most definitely. Lord Snetton agreed to pay us ten pounds the moment he receives an invoice."
"Why, that is wonderful news!"
"Indeed," remarked Roberta. "It was worth a little attentiveness on my part, wouldn't you agree?"
"I'm sorry. I spoke out of turn. I was just…" I hesitated. "I was concerned for you, that is all. There have been two Lady Snettons already, both of whom met untimely ends. I did not want you to… er…"
"Me? Marry?" Roberta laughed. "Mr Jones, you may rest assured I have no intention of chaining myself to any man!"
I did not know how to respond to this, so I indicated the corridor. "Shall we? Your father left already, and I see no reason to remain here a moment longer."
"You feel it also?" Roberta looked up at me searchingly. "A cold, unfriendly chill, like the inside of a tomb?"
"Indeed I do."
"Then let us collect our things and depart this sorrowful house. Hopefully, never to return!"
– — Ω — –
We arrived home an hour later, and it was a relief to step into the now-familiar surroundings of the professor's house. There was no hint of the bone-chilling cold I had experienced at Lord Snetton's, nor the air of sadness and loss.
Roberta sought out her father, intending to give him the good news about the ten pounds she'd been promised, while I took our haversacks upstairs and left them at her bedroom door. I feared a heated discussion once the metronome was unpacked, but I hoped Roberta would think any damage had been caused within the haversack. I knew it was cowardly to avoid confrontation, but I was new to the household, and I feared they would dispense with my services if I did not live up to expectations. In time to come, once I'd succeeded in proving my worth, these little mistakes and mishaps would not be cause for such alarm.
After leaving the haversacks I took the stairs once more, this time to my bedroom. I removed my travel-stained coat and brushed it vigorously, before hanging it carefully in the wardrobe. Then I washed my face with cold water, and smoothed my hair with the flats of my hands, all the while studying my less-than-impressive reflection in the small mirror. I recalled Roberta's uncontrolled laughter at the notion of marriage, and I wondered whether she'd been giving me a none-too-subtle hint. I could almost hear her speaking the words: Do not expend any effort in that direction, Mr Jones, for you and I are quite unsuited to one another.
Still, I had employment, and regular meals, and a roof over my head, which is more than could be said for a vast proportion of the city's inhabitants. I also had a number of troubles requiring my attention, and my time was better spent on those than agitating myself over matters of the heart.
I recalled the mysterious box concealed in my desk drawer, and decided to inspect it that instant. Barely had I taken two steps towards the door, however, when there was a knock. "Yes?" I called out. "Come in!"
The door opened, admitting the maid, Elsie. She carried a silver tray, and upon it, a sealed envelope. "Begging your pardon, but there's a letter for you. Hand-delivered, it was."
I took the envelope and thanked her, and she was just turning to leave when I saw my name scrawled across the front. I recognised the style immediately, and a cry escaped my lips. It was from the scar-faced man!
"Is everything all right, sir?" asked Elsie, her thin face exhibiting concern.
"Yes, yes. Run along now."
She hesitated a moment, then turned and left, closing the door behind herself. As soon as I was alone, I tore into the envelope with shaking fingers, pulling out the folded sheet of parchment within. It was barely a quarter of a page, but that was all that was required for the brief instruction written in the same bold hand:
Crown and Feather
Nine p.m. sharp.
My heart hammered in my chest. I had yet to secure any kind of drawings for the scar-faced man, and now I must obtain something of value before nine! The professor and Roberta were both home, and Mrs Fairacre and the maid would be moving around the house as they prepared and served dinner. With a sinking feeling, I realised my chances of obtaining a prize for the scar-faced man were something approximating zero.
Then I recalled the locked box once more. That was the ticket! Open it, and there were sure to be items inside I could trade for my parents' safety.
Quickly, I stuffed both envelope and note into my pocket, and then I donned my spare coat and left the bedroom for the floor below. Barely had I stepped off the staircase when I heard the dinner bell, and I cursed under my breath at the timing. I could not forgo the meal without drawing attention to myself, and in any case I had not eaten a bite since lunch. No, I would have to take dinner with the professor and Roberta, and immediately after I would beg their leave and tackle the mysterious box.
Chapter 23
It was a shame I was in such a hurry at dinner, for Mrs Fairacre had outdone herself. A large platter of roast beef sat on the sideboard, with thick-cut slices exhibiting just the right amount of pink in the centre. To round out the feast there was a dish of roast potatoes, a tureen brimming with fresh garden peas, and a jug full of steaming hot gravy.
The professor was in attendance, and for once he was not hidden behind his newspaper. He'd donned a smoking jacket of antique vintage for the occasion, the fabric consisting of a diamond pattern picked out in orange thread. With dark purple lapels and cuffs fashioned from plush velvet, the extraordinary piece lent him a certain air of gentility. It also lent him a vibrancy that was most troublesome to the eye, and I avoided looking at him as much as possible.
Roberta was absent, and when the professor helped himself to a platter and began to eat, I felt I should enquire as to her whereabouts before I, too, began my repast.
"Roberta is getting ready," replied the professor proudly. "This evening my daughter attends the theatre with a friend."
I was surprised, for Roberta did not strike me as the theatre-going type. Also, the professor had placed special emphasis on the word 'friend', and I pondered the significance. Was it some beau she was stepping out with, of whom I had been hitherto unaware? I was still thinking on the matter as I began my meal, and the excellent food barely registered.
The dining room fell silent for some time, with nothing but the clink of cutlery to disturb us. Despite the lack of conversation, the professor behaved as though in high spirits, occasionally humming to himself, while at other times he gave a brief utterance of joy and slapped his thigh. I had little doubt this remarkable transformation in his demeanour was due to Lord Snetton's willingness to pay the oft-lamented ten pounds, for the professor's love of money was only exceeded by his enthusiasm for a restorative pint or so of neat brandy. As for myself, I'd been hoping for Roberta's company at the dinner table, for it would be my last chance to converse with her before I had to face the scar-faced man.
Then I brightened, for if Roberta was attending the theatre, it would give me the perfect opportunity to sneak a diagram or two from her bedroom! I would copy them as quickly as possible, adding my own embellishments, and there would be time aplenty to return them before I left to meet my tormentor at the Crown and Feather.
Some of my enthusiasm must have transmitted itself to my face, for I noticed the professor studying me. "You look uncommonly pleased with yourself," he remarked.
"The beef is excellent, sir."
"The very best," agreed the professor. "Did I not tell you Lord Snetton would pay his bills? See? This is the result."
I distinctly recalled him stating the direct opposite, and at great length, but I decided not to mention it. However, I hastened to set him straight on one matter. "Sir, are you aware I have not yet drawn up the invoice?"
"No matter," he said, waved his hand. "With these wealthy clients it's money in the bank, Mr Jones. Money in the bank!"
I wished I shared his confidence, since I knew first-hand that few of the professor's clients troubled to pay their bills, and what meagre funds they did remit rarely made it to the bank. However, I did not wish to dampen his good mood, and once again I held my tongue.
We ate in silence until our plates were almost clean, and I was about to finish my meal when there was a rustle behind me. I turned, and my eyes almost started from my head as I saw a beautiful woman in the doorway. "Good heavens!" I exclaimed, as I recognized Roberta. Her working clothes and heavy boots had been whisked away, replaced by a fashionable skirt and gleaming shoes. Her hair was done up with ribbons and a bonnet, with ringlets framing her face, and her cheeks were graced with the merest hint of rouge. I was quite entranced at the heavenly creature standing before me, and barely noticed as a morsel of potato and gravy slipped off my fork and landed in my lap.
Roberta looked nervous in her finery, and she greeted me with a shy smile. "How is dinner, Mr Jones? It smells divine."
"It is!" exclaimed the professor, before I could answer. "Roberta, my dear, are you sure you won't join us?"
"I dare not, for I would incur Mrs Fairacre's displeasure should I manage to spill gravy on my skirts."
"Yes, of course. In any case, I suppose Charles is due any moment."
Charles? My stomach lurched at the name, my euphoria dissipating to leave a sour sensation in my stomach. Was this Charles a family member like cousin Edgar, or something else entirely? I did not believe for an instant that Roberta harboured feelings for me, but I'd hoped that our friendship might blossom into something more as we faced dangers and perils together. Now, those hopes had been dashed, and I was disappointed that she had not thought to mention this rival, even in passing. It was none of my business if Charles were courting her, of course, but I felt it would have been merciful if Roberta had set me straight a little sooner.
I decided I did not want to meet this Charles, and I finished my dinner promptly. "I'll bid you both a good evening," I said, my manner a little stiff. "Professor, I will attend to the accounts tonight as promised."
"Do not trouble yourself, Mr Jones, for the bookwork can wait until morning," said the professor expansively.
"That is kind of you, sir, but I am eager to continue my work." I hesitated. "I may pass by the Crown and Feather this evening, just for a half hour or so."
"My dear boy, you need not advise me of every outing. After all, you are not a prisoner here." The professor looked thoughtful. "You know, it is some time since I visited an alehouse. I have half a mind to accompany you."
My heart sank, for this would truly be a disaster. The scar-faced man would be waiting for me, and should I appear in company with the professor, he might decide to murder us both! But what could I say to prevent the meeting? Then I caught Roberta's eye, and she must have noted my alarmed expression for she interjected on my behalf.
"Father, I will not have you trawling alehouses after the knock you took this morning. I insist you stay home and rest."
The professor opened his mouth to argue, but Roberta hadn't finished.
"When Charles and I return later this evening, you will be here to greet us. Is that clear?"
"But—"
"I insist!" Roberta indicated her fancy skirts. "This was your doing, was it not? Would you like me to develop a headache and refuse to go out at all?"
The professor knew when he was beaten, and he backed down immediately. "Of course, dear. I shall remain here like your dutiful and obedient father."
"I am glad to hear it."
I was relieved too, for disaster had been averted. However, I was puzzling over something Roberta had alluded to. It seemed the professor had organised her night at the theatre, and I wondered whether this Charles fellow was a business associate of his. Or perhaps the man had ties to a wealthy family, and the professor was hoping to gain introductions through Roberta. My spirits rose at the thought, for that was an entirely different situation. She wasn't courting, she was the unwilling player in her father's plans!
Roberta had been eying the sideboard while these thoughts had been tumbling around inside my head, and now she uttered a mild oath and took up a plate.
"Dear, your skirt!" protested her father.
"Hang the finery," growled Roberta. "I'm hungry."
I felt an inner glow at her rebellious words, for this was the Roberta I knew. I wanted to remain there, to spend as long as possible in her company before she had to leave, but time was passing and I had much to do. "I wish you both good evening once more. Roberta, I hope you enjoy the theatre."
"Endure," she said, looking up from her meal.
"I'm sorry?"
"I shall endure the theatre, and enjoy returning afterwards."
The professor sighed at this, and I took my leave before they started another argument. As I climbed the staircase to my study, I found myself wishing that I was the one escorting Roberta to the theatre. Touring actors had visited my home town on occasion, but I had never experienced a performance in a London theatre. But to be frank, it was not the theatre that interested me, but Roberta's company.
I reached my office and sat in my chair, and within moments I'd extracted the locked box from the lower drawer. I decided to carry it to my bedroom for closer inspection, for my window looked out on the road and I would be able to witness Roberta's departure. At that point I would enter her bedroom to secure the drawings I needed.
I placed two ledgers on top of the box and tucked the whole under the flap of my coat, disguising it as best I could. Then, praying I was not seen, I left my office and mounted the stairs as quickly as I dared.
– — Ω — –
I reached my room without incident, and I carried the box to my bed, concealing it under the counterpane. Next I moved a side-table to the window, placing it so that I would have a view of the road. Finally, I adjusted the gaslight, turning it up so that I might see better.
Preparations complete, I moved the metal case to the side-table at the window, where I sat down to give the lock a thorough inspection. There were two dozen buttons, each of which could be centered, or positioned up or down. Each could be pressed in, or left flush with the surface. And the button to the far right acted as a reset, moving the rest to their default position.
If zero represented the default state, then there were five other states the button could be made to represent: Centered and pressed-in, up and flush, up and pressed-in, and two more with the button in the lower position.
Six states per button, and twenty-four buttons? Why, the number of combinations was immense! My heart sank, for I knew it could not be guessed. Then I brightened, for I suspected it could not easily be memorised either. Surely the owner would have left themselves an aide-memoire? A diagram or drawing, perhaps disguised or concealed? Not on the case itself, for that would be obvious, but it might be elsewhere in my study.
I got up, intending to seek out the answer that instant, and then I happened to glance out of the window. What if Roberta left while I was away from my post? If so, I would not know whether she was still in the house when I attempted to obtain the diagrams from her room.
