Roberta's device was meant to be fashioned from bronze, but I changed mine to good strong oak. Had I not done so, the machine in my diagram would have weighed as much as the great bell of the Clock Tower, and required even more metal.
I spent some time adding meaningless tables of figures to the margins of the drawing, along with notes and comments on the construction. So distracted was I that I barely noticed the passage of time, and I was shocked to discover it was almost thirty past eight. I set the plans aside to dry, for it was too soon to fold them away, and decided to spend a few minutes on the combination to the locked box. I took another sheet of parchment and drew a pair of parallel lines across the page, then crossed them with twenty-three short vertical lines. This formed a rough representation of the lock mechanism, and all I needed — all I needed! — was the correct pattern. A dot or a cross in one of the three vertical spaces would indicate whether a button were pushed in, as well as its vertical position - up, down or centered. To experiment, I drew several circles with my quill, and as I inked them in, it created a pattern eerily similar to notes on sheet music. Could that be the answer? But then, none of the books in my office had anything to do with music.
As I studied the drawing, with its intermittent dots and blank squares, I felt the first stirrings of recognition. Not music, but a similar pattern which I had seen only recently. I tried to grasp the memory but it slipped away, and the harder I tried, the more it hid away in the shadows. Black dots inside squares, displayed in three rows! Where oh where had I seen such a thing? And why was I picturing tiny figures with fierce faces?
All of a sudden it came to me, and I leapt to my feet with a cry of triumph. I crossed the bedroom at a run, hauled the door open and ran downstairs at top speed. On the next floor I burst into my study, where I almost ran into the desk in my haste. Off-balance, I skirted the desk and fetched up at the rear wall, where the paintings were hanging. I had no interest in the country scene, and instead turned to the one depicting the Battle of Trafalgar. I leaned closer to study the ships, paying particular attention to the three rows of guns. My excitement grew as I saw the round black muzzles protruding from the square gunports like… dots! And many of the gunports were closed, which would never happen in a true sea battle.
Certain I had it now, I lifted the painting off the wall, tucked it under my arm and ran for my bedroom.
– — Ω — –
I laid the painting on my bed and fetched the locked box, sitting down and placing the heavy metal case in my lap. My fingers shook as I copied the pattern of open gun ports, sliding this button up, that button down, and pressing them in to match the arrangement in the painting. Once finished, I held my breath and waited for the lock to activate. Nothing happened, so I turned the case on its side and tried to pry the lid open, without success.
I glanced at my watch and swallowed. It was a quarter to nine, and I had to leave immediately if I was to make my appointment with the scar-faced man. On the other hand, I suspected the drawing in my pocket might not be enough to satisfy him. If I could only persuade the obstinate case to yield its secrets!
I felt a rising panic as I realised the painting might be a red herring, for I had wasted what little time remained trying to open the case. But I was reluctant to let it go, for I was convinced I'd hit upon the solution. Had I made an error copying the pattern? No, I double-checked the buttons, and their positions were a perfect match for the open gun ports in the painting.
I placed the locked case on the bed, set the painting beside it and stood up. For now, I would cover both with the counterpane, and would return them to my study after my meeting with the scar-faced man. Assuming I survived the meeting, that was. To improve my chances I decided I would steal one of the smaller cubes from the sitting room as I left the house. Someone might see me taking it, and even if they did not the cube would likely be missed, but I had no other option.
I moved to the foot of the bed and bent to take hold of the counterpane, and as I straightened I glanced at the painting and the case lying beside it. From my position the painting was now upside-down, and the pattern on the case was a mirror image in the horizontal plane. Quickly, I glanced over my shoulder, towards the small shaving mirror affixed to the wall. Could that be the answer? Requiring that the pattern be reversed… now that would put almost anyone off the scent!
By this time I knew I would have to run all the way to the Crown and Feather, but I simply had to try that case again. So, I detached the mirror from the wall and carried it to the bed, where I held it in such a way it reflected the hulls of the two ships. Then I copied the new
