CHAPTER 20 #2
It was Tyler who answered. “Lord Wrexford is one of the most expert chemists in London. His skills lie in analyzing the structural nuances of different compounds. In fact, he’s identified a number of new elements.
For example, he isolated sodium from molten sodium hydroxide—though he’s allowed Davy and Faraday to take the public professional credit.
” He paused. “I suppose he worries that were it widely known that he possesses a serious scientific mind, it might ruin his reputation.”
Charlotte hadn’t realized the full measure of his expertise. She had been under the impression that it was merely an odd hobby.
“Hell’s teeth, do be quiet! Your chin wagging is an infernal distraction.” Wrexford slid the sample beneath a complicated array of brass tubes.
Charlotte guessed they contained some sort of high-powered lens. Fascinated, she edged her chair closer to watch the procedure.
“That’s close enough, Mrs. Sloane,” counseled the earl without looking up. “Just in case there’s an accident, the flying shards of glass and metal could be dangerous.”
“It appears to require a strong percussive force to set it off. And yet . . .” Tyler made a series of adjustments to the tiny mirrors that amplified the light. “And yet, it seems to have the same properties of Land’s discovery . . .” His voice trailed off again.
Wrexford took charge of the controls and leaned into the eyepiece. “Which was?”
His valet drew a deep breath. “Mercury fulminate.”
* * *
A spin of the gears brought the chemical sample into focus.
Wrexford was momentarily mesmerized by the sight.
Under the high-powered magnification, its crystal structure had a striking abstract beauty.
That such tiny elemental particles could combine in so many infinitely complex ways was still a source of never-ending fascination to him. Science was full of wonders.
And terrors, if Drummond was to be believed.
“Explain to me why you thought that,” he said, bringing his thoughts back to the problem at hand. His valet was a meticulous researcher and rarely jumped to wrong conclusions.
“Based on Drummond’s accusation and the recent thefts of mercury, it’s a logical deduction.
Land discovered the compound twelve years ago, and wrote extensively about its properties.
” Tyler picked up one of the open books that were stacked along the work counter.
“He presented a paper to the Royal Society called ‘On a New Fulminating Mercury,’ which was subsequently published in the Society’s journal. ”
“Philosophical Transactions is a very well-known scientific publication,” interjected Wrexford for Charlotte’s benefit.
“At the time, there was great debate on how such a powerful substance might be used in practical applications,” explained Tyler. “The thing is, if it’s mercury fulminate, interest in it quickly died out because of its extremely unstable volatility.”
His interest in chemistry was in other areas, however. Wrexford vaguely recalled reading about it. “One possible use was in mine excavation, wasn’t it?”
“Correct.” Tyler’s expression tightened. “But what sparked an even greater interest was whether it could be used to revolutionize the way weapons fire bullets.”
Charlotte’s brows pinched together in puzzlement. “How could that be possible?”
“As we just saw, it’s a more powerful explosive than gunpowder.
A number of inventors discussed the possibility of making a chemical primer encased in a copper cap to replace the traditional firing mechanisms,” replied Tyler.
“The caplock system would make a weapon quicker to load, and be far more effective than gunpowder in damp weather.”
He reached for one of the other books stacked on the counter. “In fact, a Scottish clergyman by the name of Alexander Forsyth invented just such a cap in 1807. But it was deemed impractical because mercury fulminate was considered too unstable—and too dangerous.”
She still looked mystified.
Tyler’s explanation sparked something in Wrexford’s memory.
He took up a pencil and piece of paper from the worktable and drew a quick sketch.
“Yes, yes—now I recall the concept. Pistols and muskets could easily be redesigned, eliminating the flint, frizzen, and flashpan. Boring out the flash hole would allow the insertion of a small cylinder with a tiny nipple at one end. A cap would be inserted into the cylinder, like so.”
He added a few details to the diagram. “Pulling the trigger would release the hammer, which would strike the cap holding the mercury fulminate. The nipple would pierce the cap, igniting the chemical—and bang, the bullet and powder charge in the barrel would fire.”
“It would no longer be necessary to use fiddle with a powder horn to load the flashpan,” added Tyler. “One would simply insert a cap, saving precious seconds during the heat of battle.”
“Mother of God,” she whispered as the import of the invention dawned on her. “Anyone who possessed such a weapon would have an unbeatable military advantage against any adversary, wouldn’t they?”
“Precisely,” said Wrexford grimly.
“Yes, but as I said, tests showed mercury fulminate was too unstable to be reliable. It tended to explode unexpectedly, so any plans for practical use died,” pointed out the valet.
“That was back at the dawn of the century,” murmured Wrexford. “Since then, we’ve made great strides in science. There are new discoveries being made all the time.”
He drummed his fingertips together and shot a sidelong look at the glass vial. But as he studied the crystals, something didn’t look quite right. “Have you a list of all the elements that make up mercury fulminate?”
“Yes,” answered Tyler.
“Read them to me.”
“Mercury, acqua fortis . . .”
The earl made a few adjustments to the lenses as Tyler rattled off more chemicals, enlarging the specimen’s magnification. “No sulfur?”
“Not according to Land’s recipe.”
Wrexford was positive that this compound contained the mineral. But several of the other ingredients were puzzling. “Come have a look,” he said to Tyler. “Any idea what the diamond-clear granules might be? Or that pulverized greenish powder.”
The valet took his time in studying the material. “I haven’t a clue,” he admitted.
Several ideas came to mind. Highly unusual ones. But science was all about tossing aside preconceived notions. “Prepare some acids for testing.” Wrexford picked up the glass vial and grimaced. There was precious little with which to work. They would have to be precise.
And lucky.
“I’m convinced your surmise is right and that the basic compound is mercury fulminate. But it’s been altered.”
“Y-You think . . .” Charlotte didn’t finish her question. She didn’t have to.
“Do I think that Lowell has discovered the secret to making the explosive more stable?” he said. “Yes, I think that’s a reasonable conjecture, based on what we just witnessed. But conjectures are worthless. We need to prove it, and that will take time.”
“Something of which we have little to spare,” mused Charlotte. “If that sample proves he’s succeeded in making a new explosive, he must be ready to put whatever plans he has for it in motion.”
Wrexford was thinking much the same thing.
“I’m so sorry.” Contrition shaded Charlotte’s voice. “My satirical print likely made him bolt, just when you might have caught him at work on his devil’s brew.”
“I think not, Mrs. Sloane,” answered the earl.
“Lowell was too cunning for that. My search showed that he didn’t use his laboratory at the Institution for brewing up his experiments.
It’s too small a space, and chemical smells would have attracted unwanted attention from the other members.
Based on Drummond’s claims of people prowling through the corridors, my guess is he used the room for collecting chemicals and research materials, like old books and manuscripts on chemistry, that he stole from other laboratories.
As to the real work, I would guess he has another laboratory somewhere in the city. ”
The ring of clinking glass and metal punctuated the opening and closing of the cabinet doors as Tyler moved with methodical quickness to prepare the various solutions of acid. Charlotte took up a pencil from the desk and rolled it nervously between her palms.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.
“This will probably take hours. I suggest you return home,” he replied. “I’m sure you wish to check on the lads—but don’t ring too fierce a peal over their heads. I’m to blame for their transgression, so if punishment is to be meted out, I should be the one to receive it.”
Her gaze held his for a long moment. “I shall,” she said softly, “think of a suitable one.”
An interesting response. Her mood seemed as changeable as quicksilver. But before he could explore the matter, the sound of footsteps—running footsteps—reverberated through the corridor.
Griffin? Springing to his feet, the earl lunged for the door, intent on barring entry to the Runner.
A fist thumped against the paneled oak. “Hurry, Wrex! There’s not a moment to lose!”
Wrexford slid the bolt back and admitted Sheffield.
“I’ve just learned that Canaday has fled the country. And Stoughton is panicking as well.” His friend paused to catch his breath. “Apparently Quill’s pen has pricked at a vulnerable spot, for his latest drawing has unleashed holy hell.”
“What’s happening?” demanded Wrexford.
“As you asked, I’ve been keeping an eye on St. Aubin, and a message was just delivered to him while he was playing at the gaming tables of the Scarlet Cockerel. Stoughton has summoned him to a meeting at the clubhouse of The Ancients, and if we hurry, we can catch them at it.”