– — Ω — –
It was some hours later, and I was making excellent progress on the bookwork when I was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Roberta, and I placed my quill in the inkpot and pushed my chair back.
"Do not rise on my account, Mr Jones," she said quickly. "I came to say that you may not be needed for my investigation, as my father has decided to accompany me to Lady Snetton's after all."
My first reaction was surprise, for the professor had been adamant he'd have nothing to do with the Snetton case, and I wondered what might have altered his thinking on the matter. My second reaction was relief, for I was in no hurry to face the phantasm that might have killed the poor woman. It had to be a powerful spirit indeed to end her life, and I, as a complete newcomer to the hunting of evil spirits, was more likely to become its next victim than its captor. My third reaction was regret, as I would not have the opportunity to enjoy Roberta's company for the afternoon. "I understand," I said, with a brief nod. "It is for the best."
"Septimus, do not look so downcast," said Roberta, approaching my desk. "There will be plenty of chances in the future for you to grapple with the spirit world, and you still have much to learn."
"Indeed I do." I gestured at the ledgers piled on my desk. "In any case, this was the work for which I was employed."
Roberta gave me a curious look, and seemed on the point of saying something.
"What is it?" I asked. "You know you can trust me." Even as the words left my mouth, I felt like a cad of the highest order, for my statement could not have been further from the truth. "You don't have to say, of course," I added quickly, in a vain attempt to salve my conscience.
"It is something best demonstrated, rather than discussed."
My heart quickened, both at her secretive manner, and at the idea that some magnificent secret was to be revealed to me. "Please demonstrate, I beg you, for my nerves will not take the suspense much longer."
She laughed at my overzealous response, and bade me follow her from the study. We took the stairs down to the next floor, where she led me to her bedroom. If possible, the interior was even more disordered than the first time I'd laid eyes on it, with equipment strewn hither and thither with no regard for order or propriety. To my horror I beheld a chemise, petticoats and corsets scattered upon the bed, and I averted my eyes from the display, my face reddening with embarrassment.
Roberta was unaware of my discomfort, for she was seeking something amongst the piles of clutter on her workbench. "I know I left them somewhere around here," she muttered, as she sought whatever it was beneath tangles of wire, small plates of metal and sheets and sheets of intricate drawings.
As she ferreted out her prize, muttering to herself at intervals, my gaze was firmly affixed on those diagrams. The professor and Roberta would be absent for the afternoon, leaving me alone with the servants, and one or two of those pages could be secreted easily about my person. There were so many of them, and in such disarray, that a page or two would surely not be missed? Also, Roberta was treating them with disdain, throwing them around like refuse, and while they might hold no value for her, the scar-faced man would surely give his front teeth for a sight of these drawings and diagrams.
Then I had a fresh idea, one that excited me to such a degree that I struggled for breath. It was the answer to all of my problems, and I cursed myself for not seeing it sooner. I would not steal drawings and devices from Roberta and the professor… I would make crude copies of their work in my own hand, and pass those to my blackmailer! His organisation might spend weeks attempting to build devices that had no earthly function, and for my part I would continue to serve up sheet after sheet of useless diagrams and made-up observations.
All of a sudden, the weight that had been bearing down on my shoulders was lifted, and I felt a lightness of spirit which had been sorely lacking these past few days. My plan was genius, sheer genius, and I beamed with delight at the thought of the scar-faced man and his cronies wasting their time, effort and money on my idiotic creations. I would have my revenge upon them, and they would never know it! My parents would not be made to suffer, and in addition I would be betraying neither Roberta nor the professor.
At that moment Roberta gave a satisfied cry and turned to me. She was holding up an old-fashioned pair of spectacles, but when she saw the huge, foolish grin on my countenance her own expression faltered somewhat. "Why, Mr Jones," she said uncertainly. "Whatever are you so happy about?"
"It's nothing," I said quickly. "My mind was wandering, I assure you."
Roberta must have suspected I was amused by her lack of tidiness, and she gestured at her workbench. "I am well aware of the state of my things, Mr Jones, but I know the precise location of every item." Then she glanced down at the spectacles, which had taken a good five minutes to locate. "Well, almost every item."
"Do you need those to see by?" I asked her, for I'd not noticed Roberta wearing eyeglasses before. Aside from the curious pair of lenses she'd used at the Snettons', of course.
"In a fashion, yes."
