His mother could have happened upon the criminal, or criminals, at any time, or . . . Gemma and Oscar could have happened upon them while scavenging about in his workshop, a thought that had his fury level rising exponentially.
Because whoever had tried to locate that research had been unsuccessful that morning, as his papers were still safely stowed away in a safe he’d created to look like an abandoned washing machine, that meant there would certainly be additional attempts to locate his papers. His mother had grasped that point immediately, which was why she’d already hired more Pinkerton men to guard not only him, but also to guard her property.
Those Pinkerton agents had arrived promptly after receiving the note Agent Cochran sent them, and their presence was the only reason Norman had felt comfortable leaving his home—that, and his mother had plans for the afternoon and wouldn’t be at home anyway.
After rising to his feet, Norman accepted a towel from Mr. Daniel Batchelor, an engineer at Nesbit Steel Factory, and began wiping the grease from his hands. Attempting to push his disturbing thoughts aside, knowing they’d come barreling back to torment him soon enough, he nodded to Daniel. “I rerouted some circuits and found a few breaks in the cables. I took care of those, and as soon as Miss Robinson returns with that magnetized ring I told you about, I’ll install that and the generator should work more efficiently.”
“Sure do appreciate it,” Daniel said. “This particular generator fails about three times a week, forcing us to shut down some areas of production while we get it up and running again.”
Norman frowned. “Do you frequently encounter difficulties with the machines?”
“Every single one of them has their problems, but your father and brother have numerous engineers such as myself on the job, so we’re always able to get operations up and running again.” Daniel shrugged. “Just takes a lot of time throughout the week.”
“What seems to be the problem now?” a voice called from behind Norman.
Turning, Norman found his older brother, Stanley, striding his way, coming to a stop directly in front of Daniel. Stanley shot a look to Norman, frowned for all of a second, then his mouth dropped open. “Norman, I didn’t recognize you at first. Where’s your hair?”
A touch of the anger still lingering in Norman’s veins faded as he stepped forward and shook his brother’s hand. “I left a great deal of it behind at the barber shop.”
“It’s about time. What are you doing here?”
“I dropped by the factory to pick up some steel to use for a peddle-boat that Gemma, Oscar, Theo, and I are in the process of making.” Norman glanced to Daniel. “But then I came across Daniel, and he told me about the generator. Because I welcomed the distraction, I figured I might as well have a look.”
“Distraction from what?”
“Long story.” Norman nodded to the generator in question. “I recalibrated a few things, which should see it performing better, and after Theo brings me a certain part, I’ll get that installed and that’ll have the generator up and—”
“Theodosia’s here?” Stanley interrupted, glancing around as he raised a hand and took to smoothing down his hair.
“Not presently. She’s gone off to get a part, but she’ll be back directly.”
“Ah, so she drove you here?”
“No, I came with Mort, but Theo drove her wagon beside us.”
Stanley blinked. “Who’s Mort?”
Norman shrugged. “That’s a long story as well, but what are you doing on the factory floor? I thought you usually spent the afternoons in your office, going over orders.”
Stanley blew out a breath. “Seems to me as if you and I have quite a few things to catch up on. Let’s go to my office so we can exchange stories in a quieter setting.”
Finding that to be an excellent suggestion, Norman nodded before he turned to Daniel. “Would you send Miss Robinson up to Stanley’s office when she returns?”
“Certainly,” Daniel said, returning the nod. He then nodded to Stanley before he walked away.
Falling into step beside his brother, Norman moved across the factory floor and up a flight of stairs. Walking into Stanley’s office, he took a seat on a chair that had seen better days as Stanley closed the door.
After taking a seat behind a desk brimming with paperwork, Stanley considered Norman for a long moment before he shook his head. “Mother’s been saying for a few weeks now that there’s something the matter with you, and I have to say, given that you just took it upon yourself to fix a generator, she might be right.”
“Nothing’s the matter with me, and I’m sure I’ve fixed a machine here or there for you.”
“No, you haven’t.”
Norman frowned when not a single instance sprang to mind where he’d fixed anything at any of the factories his family owned. “I feel I must beg your forgiveness for that lapse because it’s inexcusable that I’ve never offered to help before.”
Concern flickered through Stanley’s eyes. “You’re dying, aren’t you?”
“I’m not dying.”
“Then you’ve lost all your money, and this is your way of buttering me up to extend you a loan.”
“Don’t be insulting. My wealth has increased tenfold this year through investments I made with the Standard Oil company.”
Stanley frowned. “You make investments?”
“Of course I do. I take an hour every week to scan the stock market, then purchase stocks I believe are going to trend well.”
“And you are successful with your investments?”
“I just told you I’ve increased my fortune tenfold this year alone.”
Something that looked very much like disgruntlement flickered over Stanley’s face. “Is that why you didn’t want me to invest your money years ago, after you came into your trust from Grandfather Nesbit?”
“Yes, but I would have thought you knew that from the moment I declined your offer.”
“How could I have possibly known that?”
Norman began drumming his fingers against the arm of the chair, until
