CHAPTER 3 #2
“Perhaps you can clarify what happened to the three bottles that appear to have gone missing from this cabinet?” called Wrexford.
Drummond dropped his stirring spoon and rushed over.
“According to your very detailed notes, the missing substances are rhodium, palladium, and mercury.” Which also matched the ingredients of his own experiments.
Wrexford held up the notebook. “You list the position of each container and the date it is used up. There is no entry for those three, so I assume they, too, were stolen.”
The chemist blinked. A sheen of sweat coated his forehead. Whether it was from the heat of the crucible or some other cause was impossible to discern. “That cabinet should have been locked!”
“It wasn’t,” said Wrexford. “Rhodium is quite expensive. And the amount of mercury listed is rather large. Did you have them for a reason?”
“I . . . I wished to try out an idea I had in mind, once the current phase of my experiment is finished,” answered Drummond stiffly. “I would rather not elaborate on the details, milord. I believe it to be a very original idea.”
“I have no intention of stealing a march on you,” said Wrexford dryly. “Tell me, do you keep the main door to your laboratory under lock and key?”
“Yes, of course. And as I told Mr. Tyler, there was no sign of forced entry,” replied Drummond.
“Perhaps now the Institution will take my complaints seriously. It’s plain as a pikestaff that this was no random prank.
Someone who is familiar with the laboratories here wants to discredit my reputation with Davy and ruin my career! ”
The chemist’s mouth pinched to a pout. “I had high hopes of presenting some very exciting results at the next meeting of our members, but I was forced to start over on my experiment, as the theft ruined the timing.”
“Did you report the theft to the authorities as well as the superintendent here?” inquired Tyler.
“No, I didn’t waste my breath. Do you really think a Runner is going to bother hunting for a few bottles of powders and liquids?” snapped the chemist. “Especially as the Institution has not deigned to take any of my complaints seriously.”
The earl made no reply.
Bitterness welled up in Drummond’s voice. “And nor, it seems, do you. Why are you asking me these questions? I’ve given all the details I know to the head watchman. You should be interrogating the others who work in this section of the building to find out who the culprit is.”
“You truly believe one of your fellow men of science was responsible?” asked Wrexford.
“Yes!” insisted Drummond, his face flushing in anger.
“I told you, there are vipers here who are up to no good. I often work late and I’ve seen the slithering that goes on late at night when they think no one is paying attention.
” He sucked in a sharp breath. “Strange noises, odd packages, people who clearly have no business being in a laboratory.”
Wrexford held back the sarcastic retort that immediately came to mind. “Suspicious people, you say? Like whom?”
Drummond let out his answer in a huff. “Like that reverend who has been preaching sermons about the evils of science.”
* * *
Charlotte turned from the stove, hearing the metallic clink of the outer door latch. The lads trooped into the room a moment later, looking well pleased with themselves. A telltale smudge of strawberry jam on Hawk’s chin explained why.
“Sorry we was—were—late, m’lady,” said Raven. “We were asked to wait for the gentleman to write his reply, and then we stopped by Bow Street to see what we could learn—”
“The Runner asked His Nibs where he was last night, and His Nibs admitted he had been out walking—alone!” interrupted Hawk in a rush.
His brother shot him an aggrieved look.
“Sorry,” apologized Hawk in a small voice.
“Come sit,” said Charlotte. “You must be hungry after all your travels.” Notwithstanding the strawberry tarts they had been fed by Jeremy’s cook. “You can both tell me all the details while we eat.”
Raven’s expression brightened. He crossed to the table, but before taking a seat, he reached into his pocket and fished out a folded piece of paper. “Here’s the letter, m’lady.”
Both boys watched intently as she cracked the wax wafer and skimmed over its contents.
“Is it helpful?” asked Raven.
“Very,” replied Charlotte, exaggerating only a little.
She was inordinately fortunate that her friend was willing to pass on information that she could access nowhere else.
But she knew she was dancing along a razor’s edge with her questions.
Their friendship had been formed in childhood, when his circumstances had been far more humble than they were now.
They had formed a strong bond of trust, and had shared secrets.
But life had changed for him, and she didn’t want to force him to decide where his true loyalties lay.
“These letters are important, and I don’t know how I would manage them without you.”
“S’all right,” mumbled Raven through a mouthful of stew. To his brother he added, “Oiy, mind your manners. No slurping.”
Charlotte bit back a smile.
“We can go whenever you need te send one,” continued Raven.
“Or any other errand,” chirped in Hawk.
“Thank you.” She passed them both an extra hunk of bread.
“I almost forgot, we heard more from Skinny about the Runner,” said Hawk, once he had chewed and swallowed his food. “His Nibs—”
“Lord Wrexford,” corrected Charlotte.
“Yeah, him—when the Runner was questioning him, there was another cove in the room. His name was Field . . . Field . . .”
“Shef-field,” finished Raven. “The Runner told Skinny he was a friend of Lord Wrexford.”
Sheffield. Charlotte made a mental note to ask Jeremy about the earl’s circle of friends. “Did the Runner describe him?”
Raven repeated what he had heard. Tall, fair-haired—It wasn’t a lot to go on, but Charlotte saw a way to add a new element to her drawing before sending it to the engraver.
“Oh, and Skinny said one of His Lordship’s servants delivered your print—the one wiv all the blood—while His Nibs was being raked over the coals,” added Hawk.
That would make a nice touch, she thought wryly. There was just enough room to work it into the drawing before sending it off.
“And Skinny heard that Lord Wrexford was oogling the ’orrible burns on the reverend’s face.”
“Ha! The devil admiring his handiwork,” said Raven after spooning up the last mouthful of his stew.
“We don’t know that he committed the crime,” she pointed out, though the concept of truth likely meant little to the boys. In their world, guilt or innocence was about how fast one could run or how much money one had for bribes.
The truth was, all signs pointed to Wrexford being the culprit. But pedigree and prestige were dauntingly powerful, as she well knew. The authorities would have to be awfully sure of themselves to arrest him.
“Cor, you should have seen the body, with all that scorched flesh and putrid color, Hawk.” Raven made a face. “It was disgusting.”
Intent on changing the subject before it turned too gruesome, Charlotte gathered up the empty bowls and set them down by the wash pail. “If you’re not too tired, would you be willing to take my drawing to the engraver later this evening instead of tomorrow afternoon?”
She was loath to ask the boys to go out at night.
But they often went off on their own, and from what they had told her, the authorities looked to be intensifying their scrutiny of the earl.
Come morning, a new print in the shop’s display window would fan the public’s prurient interest. It would sell well, and it was wise to take advantage of such a juicy scandal.
“Yeah, all right,” agreed Raven with a shrug. “S’no trouble. We were already planning te head that way.”
She didn’t ask why. Though a part of her yearned to play the mother hen, she knew they wouldn’t thank her for it.
The laws of life here were a world away from those of her own childhood, but she had learned to accept them.
The choice to cross the boundaries and venture into unknown territory had been a voluntary one.
There was no going back.
“Thank you. Just give me a little time to add the extra details.”
Raven sprawled out on the rag rug by the stove and began toying with a handful of skittles he had pulled from his pocket. Hawk was quick to join him. “Aye, m’lady. We’ll be right here when you need us.”
* * *
“Are you saying you saw the Right Reverend Josiah Holworthy here inside the Royal Institution?” demanded Wrexford.
“Yes,” insisted Drummond. “More than once.”
The earl thought about the corridor and the fact that the wall sconces were few and far between. “Are you sure? At night the shadows must be nearly black as Hades.”
The jut of Drummond’s chin rose another notch. “I know what I saw.” A pause. “And heard.”
All of Wrexford’s senses had now come alert. The reverend had a deep, sonorous voice. It was very recognizable. If what the chemist claimed was true—
Drummond seemed to read the earl’s thoughts and a self-righteous smile slowly spread over his face. “I’ve heard the reverend preach several times. His oratorical style is unique.”
“Indeed.” And yet something didn’t ring quite true. “However, if he was here at night, and—as you point out—had no business being here, I doubt he was rattling the walls with his preaching voice.”
A sharp crack rose from the bubbling crucible, along with a ghostly plume of steam. Drummond flinched.
“Which means you must have been rather close to him to identify his voice.”
“I—” The chemist wet his lips. The smile had quickly faded to a petulant pout. “I had every right to investigate when I heard people in the corridor at odd hours. As you see, the theft shows I had every right to fear mischief was afoot.”
“More than you might think,” murmured Tyler. “You are aware, aren’t you, that the reverend was murdered last night.”
Drummond gasped, the blood draining from his face.