At that, my worry only increased. I'd given scaled-up plans for this device to Sykes, and I'd been hoping the gem in the middle would be impossible for him to obtain, especially as he'd need one around six inches across. Now, it seemed, he could obtain such a crystal with little trouble. "So tell me, professor. What would happen if you built a machine of a similar design, but made it even larger?"
He shook his head. "Double the size, and the power requirements would be squared."
"Let's say you could power it. Hypothetically."
The professor thought for a moment. "The attraction field would increase substantially, of course. You'd draw in spirits from an area measuring dozens of yards, instead of a few square feet."
"And if the machine were, say, six feet across and ten high?"
At this, he laughed aloud. "Why, you'd need the power of a thousand steam locomotives for a device of that size. And electrical power at that!"
Relieved, I turned back to the generator.
"Of course," continued the professor, "if one did manage to power such a monstrous contraption, every spirit, evil shade and phantasm would be drawn to it from across the length and breadth of England. Could you imagine the chaos if such a thing were unleashed upon the heart of London?"
Chapter 29
With the professor's doom-laden words still ringing in my ears, I approached his hand-cranked generator to see whether I could find a way to increase its output. Now, I was not versed in engineering or the mechanical arts, but recent events had shown me that I possessed a certain instinct. As I viewed the machine I tried to think of it in terms of numbers and equations, with variables for every part.
I was still considering these when the professor cleared his throat. "Mr Jones, I just want to say that I'm very pleased with your dedication thus far."
This gave me pause, for my first thought was of Sykes and the drawings I'd copied for him.
"There was a young man before you, you know," said the professor. "A cousin of Roberta's on her mother's side."
"Do you mean Edgar?" I asked him. I was still busy inspecting the machine, but if the professor was willing to volunteer information, I was not going to stop him.
"Yes, that's the lad. I suppose Roberta told you about him."
"She only told me that he died."
"Hmph." There was a pause. "Well, I might as well tell you, for it will serve as a cautionary tale. I was against hiring him from the start, for Edgar was a cunning sort. And, sure enough, I began to notice items disappearing."
I started guiltily, which was unfortunate because at that moment I'd been holding two slender wires apart. One pulled clear of its connector, and I fumbled to rejoin it before the professor noticed.
"I thought he was selling the items to line his pockets, but his plans were grander than that. Would you believe he hoped to set up in competition to me? Me, with a lifetime of experience! But Roberta and I knew nothing of this until it was too late."
"What happened?"
"Much as you'd expect. He stole plans from Roberta and vital pieces of equipment from me, and then he tried to construct a simple machine of his own. Of course, the foolish boy got it all wrong, and he unleashed a phantasm which promptly took his life. Then his unstable contraption of a machine exploded, and they do say the flash lit up half of London."
"I'm sorry to hear of your loss."
"My only loss was the equipment," said the professor curtly, which to my mind was somewhat callous. "Edgar was a thorough disappointment, and he deserved everything that came to him."
I wondered whether he was warning me, in an oblique fashion. But instead, he praised me.
"Now you, Mr Jones, you are clearly a cut above. An upright sort." The professor clapped me on the shoulder. "I am so pleased we met, and I believe you will become a tremendous help to my little enterprise."
It was lucky I was inspecting the machine, for had I been looking into the professor's eyes I'm sure my guilty expression would have betrayed me. The professor and Roberta had taken me in and treated me well, and I was repaying them by becoming another Edgar. I felt like a heel of the worst kind, and I wished heartily that Sykes had never been born. Without his evil shadow clouding my very existence, I could have been truly happy in the professor's household.
"Now, what have you noticed so far?" asked the professor, turning once more to the task at hand.
"There are only three ways to increase the output of this generator," I said. "The first is to make the machine larger."
The professor shook his head. "I do not have the funds, the materials, nor the time."
"The second is to rework this central part, so that it runs more efficiently." Carefully, I withdrew the core of the machine, which was a cylindrical rotor studded with dull grey squares. The wooden handle was attached, as was the gearing mechanism, and I held the piece of machinery in both hands lest I drop it. "If these squares were larger—"
"Impossible," said the professor. "Those form part of the armature, and each took days to fashion."
I gestured at the wooden handle. "The only remaining option is to spin the central portion at higher speed."
"I have already geared it so high that it takes two strong arms just to turn the generator over. Any more, and it will be completely immobilised." He looked at me hopefully. "Are you sure there is no other way?"
"I'm sorry, but those are the only options I have identified."
"Then it seems I have reached the limits with this design," said the professor despondently. "I shall have to start from scratch once I have the means to do so."
As he spoke I was inspecting the wooden handle, and I frowned as I noticed the method by which it was
