"Clearly." Sykes eyed me thoughtfully. "Does it really need to be this large?"
"I—I don't know."
"No matter. I will test on smaller sizes at first, and one piece at a time will see the wall built. But I must hurry, for the storm approaches! Yes yes, the storm. Hurry my boy, hurry!"
By now Sykes appeared to be speaking with himself, and I wondered whether his mind was as damaged as his face. Then he looked at me, focussed once more. "After this, we shall never meet again. You have played your part, Mr Jones, and I thank you."
Surprised beyond measure, I stared at him.
"Go!" he commanded me. "Go back to your precious Roberta and her impatient, arrogant father."
I stood quickly, scarcely believing it was over. Meanwhile, Sykes brandished the parchment at me. "You may reveal your part in this if you dare, but I would advise against it. You see, late this evening, when those fools discover what I have achieved, they will curse your name until the end of time."
I backed away slowly, moving my hand to my pocket. My fingers closed on the revolver's grip, and I stood there, hesitating. Draw the gun, fire a shot or two, and even I could not miss at this range. Sykes would be finished, and I would be free. On the other hand he had just released me, unharmed. Further, he had promised to leave me alone in future, although I did not trust him in the slightest. When his machine failed to work, I suspected he would seek retribution, or additional materials. Then, we would begin all over. So why not end it now?
Because I was a law-abiding man, that's why.
Turning, I walked away quickly, turning my collar up against the rain. I glanced back once, to make sure Sykes was not following, but the bench was empty and there was no sign of him anywhere. Relieved, I lengthened my stride, determined to reach the professor's house before I drowned.
On the way I considered reporting to the police station, to inform Cox of this latest development. In the end I decided against it. First, because I had the loaded revolver in my pocket. Second, because there was little to tell the inspector, aside from the fact Sykes was building some gimcrack machine based on my forged copy of an unfinished diagram. A machine which would probably crumble before he finished it, and which in any case could never be powered up. And finally, because I wanted to put the whole mess behind me once and for all.
Chapter 31
Dinner was a sombre affair, with the professor and Roberta refusing to speak with each other. I was the only one in good spirits, and it was a relief when we finished our repast and departed the dining room. There was a huge flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder as I took the stairs to my study, and I resolved to double-check the shutters in my bedroom so that I would not be woken if the wind got up in the night.
After two or three hours of peaceful bookwork I doused the gaslight, tidied my desk and went upstairs to my bedroom. The maid had dried my coat, laying it out neatly on the bed, and I carried it to the wardrobe and hung it with the rest of my clothes. I had unloaded the gun earlier, but had not returned it to the locked metal box in my study. I still feared Sykes might gain entry to the house, perhaps for revenge, and knew I would have no compunction shooting him if he appeared in my bedroom. So, I'd concealed the pistol underneath my bed, with the pouch of cartridges close at hand.
A lightning flash lit my room, and seconds later a peal of thunder rumbled across the city. I went to my window and gazed out on the rain-soaked streets, with gaslights casting their dim glow and the occasional lighted window a yellowed rectangle of domesticity in the gloom. Then I opened my windows and leaned out to pull the shutters to, fastening them securely. Another flash lit them from without, and I felt the old painted timbers shiver as thunder followed.
Then, satisfied I'd done all I could, I prepared myself for bed and turned in.
– — Ω — –
I awoke with a start, and to my horror I realised someone was kneeling over me, shaking my shoulder. Instinct took over, and I pushed the shadowy figure away with all my might. As they vanished over one side of the bed, crying out in alarm, I rolled off the other side, reaching around desperately for the hidden gun. Even as I did so I heard my adversary dive across the bed, intent on reaching me once more.
With my brain foggy from sleep I'd forgotten the gun wasn't loaded, and when I jumped up and pulled the trigger, again and again, there was only a succession of mechanical clicks. At that same instant I heard a woman's voice directly in front of me.
"Septimus!"
Then came a flash of lighting, which glared through the shutters to render my room with bands of stark white. In the brief glow I saw Roberta's startled face mere inches from the end of my gun. Her hair and face were wet, as though she'd been lashed by the rain, but it was the wide-eyed stare that stilled my heart. Sickened, I realised I could have shot her dead right there in my room, and I threw the gun onto the bed as though it were suddenly red hot.
"Where did you get that thing?" demanded Roberta, seemingly more worried about my possession of a gun than the fact I'd tried to shoot her.
"I—I—"
"No matter," she said brusquely. "You must
