Chapter 19
“So you’re saying that MacArthur is not up to anything nefarious?” asked Raven after Charlotte finished recounting the events of the previous night.
She drew in a measured breath as she looked at the four solemn-faced Weasels seated around the schoolroom’s table, taking great pains to choose her next words with care.
“For now, we are satisfied with the explanation offered by Mr. Perkins for the group’s presence in London. His reputation is known to Mr. Sheffield, who confirmed that the American inventor is well respected in his country.”
“But …” Raven’s eyes narrowed. “But we don’t know that he really is Mr. Perkins, do we?”
“Actually we do,” she answered. “Kit visited Mr. Heath’s printing establishment first thing this morning and sent word that he has verified Heath’s identity, who in turn assured him that Perkins is who he claims to be.
Furthermore, Kit was also shown an American magazine with an engraved portrait of Perkins illustrating one of the stories, and he is satisfied that the face matches that of the man we saw last night. ”
Eddy, who hadn’t said a word since being summoned to the schoolroom, looked relieved as she nodded thoughtfully. “The aura around Mr. MacArthur shimmered with light, not darkness, the first time I saw him. So I was quite sure that he wasn’t a force for evil.”
“Perhaps that was because he was standing in front of a window,” muttered Raven.
“Don’t disparage an observation simply because you see it from a different perspective,” counseled Charlotte. “Your mathematical equations look like gibberish to her—and to me— because we can’t interpret them the same way you do.”
Raven ducked his head in contrition. “Oiy, fair enough.” A sliver of silence. “Sorry.”
The oblique apology earned a wordless shrug from Eddy.
“Will Mr. MacArthur continue to come give us drawing lessons?” asked Hawk.
“Yes, Wrex specifically asked him to continue, and he agreed,” replied Charlotte, which appeared to please him and Eddy.
As for Raven …
“If we’re done here, might I be excused?” he asked after shooting a quick glance at the mantel clock. “I promised Mrs. Sheffield that I would help her finish our weekly calculations for Mr. Ricardo.”
Sheffield watched in concern as Wrexford slowly rose from his desk chair. “Don’t feel obligated to accompany me to the demonstration,” he said. “Perhaps you should stay here and get some rest. I daresay there’s no risk in me making a visit to the Bank of England in broad daylight.”
“Hell’s teeth, don’t you, too, start clucking at me like a mother hen,” grumbled the earl. “I suffered far worse injuries on the Peninsula and lived to tell about them.”
“I’m not sure that would make Charlotte feel any less on edge,” replied Sheffield dryly.
A sigh. “But to be truthful, I would welcome your company—and technical expertise. Ainsley wishes to show us some of the current innovations the Bank is using to create their banknotes, and perhaps a detail we don’t yet know of will spark some new ideas on how to continue our hunt to solve Campbell’s murder. ”
Wrexford responded with a grunt. The fact that he had made no headway was deeply frustrating.
Indeed, no further clues concerning any of the mysteries-tangled-in-mysteries had come to light.
Campbell’s murder, Langdon’s suspicious death, the heart-and-dagger rings, Henning’s furtive behavior and his link to Duff Murray—the earl felt like he was simply stumbling around in the dark, hoping to bump into an answer.
“Don’t look so discouraged,” counseled Sheffield. “We’ve solved hellishly complicated crimes in the past.” However, the cheeriness of his voice belied the uncertainty in his gaze. “Perhaps we are thinking too hard and trying to link things that, in truth, have nothing to do with each other.”
Wrexford acknowledged the observation with a muttered oath. “The same thought has occurred to me. Let us make more of an effort to be guided by empirical evidence, rather than assumptions.”
With that assertion still fresh in his mind, Wrexford followed his friend out to the waiting carriage, which soon delivered them to the imposing fortress-like headquarters of the Bank of England.
“Greetings, gentlemen,” called Ainsley as a porter led them into one of the interior rooms off the main entrance hall.
He moved away from the wooden counters ringing the Shutting Room, a vast space where a legion of clerks were at work, and gestured for them to follow him into a marble-tiled corridor that led through the ornate Dividend Room and then brought them to a set of carved mahogany double doors.
“I’ve invited several other interested parties to join us for my update on the Inimitable Banknote Competition. ”
“Let us hope that such a triumph is easier to achieve than to say,” quipped Sheffield.
Ainsley gave a perfunctory smile before taking a tasseled key from his waistcoat pocket and holding it up. “One can’t be too careful these days.”
A flash of light from the wall sconce winked off the polished brass, and Wrexford caught a good glimpse of its unusual design.
Hell’s bells. Unless his eyes were deceiving him, it was the exact size and shape of the key that Raven had been given by his urchin friend.
Perhaps one of the myriad mysteries of the investigation has just been unlocked. If Campbell’s killer possessed a key to the Bank of England’s inner sanctum …
But speculation would have to wait for another time. Wrexford forced his attention back to the moment
“This section of the building is kept locked at all times for security reasons, as we keep our banknote machinery here,” continued Ainsley before opening the doors. Another corridor brought them to a second set of doors, which he opened without the need for a key.
A number of worktables had been set up in the cavernous space.
The one closest to the entrance was manned by a scrivener, with an array of inks and pens positioned by his blotter, and the one after it was stacked with pasteboard storage boxes and flanked by a pair of official-looking administrators.
Beyond them, the earl could make out an assortment of small machines on display.
“Ah, Lord Wrexford!” hailed Duff Murray as he and another gentleman turned from perusing a number of technical sketches hung on the side wall. “Has Ainsley succeeded in changing your mind about joining the Royal Society’s committee?”
“Are you now part of the group?” countered the earl, curious as to why the Scotsman was here.
“Good heavens, no! I don’t belong in such exalted circles,” answered Murray.
“But as I am a member of the Royal Society of Arts, which is partnering with the Bank of England on funding the prize for devising a banknote that can’t be counterfeited—as well as a merchant with a vested interest in the security of Britain’s currency—Mr. Ainsley kindly invited me to be an observer at this meeting. ”
Wrexford raised a brow at the gentleman standing next to Murray. “I take it you’re here officially, Stoneham?” he said to his fellow chemist, who had been the one to suggest that he seek out the former supervisor of Matthew Boulton’s Soho Mint.
“I am, milord,” answered Stoneham, a stout, saturnine fellow with greying side whiskers and a receding hairline. “When you refused to serve as a metallurgy consultant they turned to me.”
“Then I don’t feel a whit of guilt.” To Ainsley he added, “Stoneham is just as skilled as I am in the field of metallurgy, so you’ve no need to keep badgering me.
” His elder colleague— Wrexford guessed he was a decade older—was in fact very talented, but not quite inventive enough to have distinguished himself as a true leader in the field.
So Wrexford didn’t mind singling him out for praise.
“Nonetheless, like Mr. Murray, I’m happy to be an unofficial observer today,” finished Wrexford.
“Allow me to introduce Mr. Damien Manchester, who is also a part of our advisory committee,” said Ainsley to the earl and Sheffield, indicating the gentleman who had just moved from the machinery at the far end of the room to join them.
“Like Mr. Murray, he is a member of the Royal Society of Arts, and I’ve asked him to join the committee because of his expert knowledge in the field of decorative arts—especially guilloche designs,” he explained.
“It is good to have you with us, Manchester,” said Murray, after the earl and Sheffield had introduced themselves.
“Well, now that we’ve finished the requisite niceties, shall we begin?
” said Ainsley, clearly impatient to move on to the business at hand.
“It occurred to me that you all might wish to learn something about how we currently create banknotes, so as to have a better understanding of the challenges when we begin to judge the entries that will be submitted to our committee.”
A smile touched his lips as he looked at the earl. “I still haven’t given up hope of convincing you to join our committee, sir. As I’ve been told that innovations in metal will likely play a big role in the future of banknotes, it would be a great asset for us to have two experts.”
“Hope springs eternal,” quipped Wrexford, which only caused Ainsley’s smile to become more pronounced.
“Counterfeiting, and how to prevent it, is of fundamental importance for the future of our country, milord,” replied Ainsley “Why, even that sarcastic scribbler A. J. Quill has called our committee’s mission a very worthy endeavor.”
“Well, if Quill says it is so, then who am I to argue?” drawled the earl. “The fact is, I agree. However, I simply don’t feel that I’m the right person for your needs.”
Ainsley accepted the statement with a gracious nod. “I shall not pester you further.” A pause. “At least, not for today.”
Sheffield had already strolled over to the scrivener’s table and was inspecting the papers on its tabletop.
“Mr. Saugus is one of our most skilled calligraphers,” said Ainsley, coming to stand beside his employee. “Do show our guests how you create a traditional ￡1 note.”