“Ugh.” she said, subconsciously echoing Lord Harrington’s final words almost. “There are certainly a few ugly looking things up here. Quite a few webs too. In fact, there seem to be…” Victoria paused, not moving at all.
“What is it?” asked Romney. “The big spider on the left is dead. You can forget about that one. The one on the right though… that’s not dead I don’t…”
The demon paused too, silence falling about the room.
“Is that web made of metal?” asked Victoria and there was a pause.
“Scans indicate a strengthened steel alloy. Much lighter. Gossamer thin. It’s incredibly advanced.” said Romney
“And small.” said Victoria. “Miniaturised.”
“The spider.” gasped Romney.
“Oh my.” said Victoria, reaching across and plucking the small spider from the metal web. She sighed a breath of relief as it did not move, though she did see the carapaces on its back were partially open. She released her fingers from the wall and fell down to the floor, her legs absorbing the impact of her descent easily. She looked at the spider in the palm of her hand.
It was completely made of metal. Brass coloured, the cogs, pivots and pistons of the tiny clockwork creature were a wonder to behold. It was a masterpiece of miniaturisation, shaped like a spider in every way, yet now completely unmoving.
“Wow.” said Romney, “That’s finely done. Remarkable.”
“It’s like a work of art.” said Victoria, turning the spider over in her palm and looking on its underneath. Her eye focused and zoomed in to the base of the clockwork creature. On the underneath were three small letters that read, “RTM.”
“We have seen these letters before on a similarly small piece of work. The Electronic pulse device I seem to recall.”
“If you say so.” sniffed Romney, “Perhaps it is a company specialising in small devices.” Victoria frowned, turning the clockwork device over in her hand. She connected automatically to the data clouds, running a search for any instances of the letters “RTM”.
“This is difficult.” she said, “Without knowing what the letters stand for it doesn’t really get very far.
“Assume that the letter “M” either stands for miniaturisation.” said Romney, “Or “Mechanics” perhaps. “
That then would probably mean the first two letters are names.” said Victoria. “Riley, Ryan and Ronald are the top three most popular boy’s names beginning with “R” according to the cloud search I have run.” Victoria paused, cross referencing her data cloud searches.
“Can you run a search where the middle letter can be anything?” asked Romney.
“Yes.” said Victoria, consulting her internal computation engine. “Three matches. Very clever. We have “Riley & Thorpe Mechanicals”, Ryan Thorne Miniatures” and “Roland Topping’s Minituarisations”. They are the most likely anyway. There are a few others but they don’t seem right.”
“In what way?” asked Romney.
“Well the next one after those three is “Ronnie Thompson’s Mortuary”.”
“Ah.” said Romney. “Not that one then.”
“Wouldn’t have thought so.” said Victoria. “I think those first three are the most likely according to the search that I have run. The problem is that they could be any one of the three.”
“Well I take it you have addresses for these businesses?”
“Yes.”
“Well we can check them out when we are done here, unless you think that it is necessary to the investigation?”
“I don’t know yet.” said Victoria, thinking hard. “It would be rather inconvenient if it were the case.”
“Well for now assume it isn’t.”
“The next question is why is the carapace open?” she said, turning the small clockwork spider over in hands and examining it closely. “This really is a thing of real craftsmanship.” she said, her augmented vision zooming in on the small device, seeing all the small joints and working mechanism of the spider. “It is not a brooch or a replica. This is a real, moving robotic creature.”
“Why is it’s back open then?” asked Romney. Victoria zoomed in closer on the clockwork device, observing the hinge inside the carapace. Inside she could see through the body all the cogs and the mechanism that animated the spider presumably when it was wound somehow.
“Yet there is a small space inside here that looks as if something could be stored there.”
“Does it look airtight?” asked Romney and she zoomed into the carapace even closer. “Wow. It does doesn’t it?”
“Yes.” said Victoria. “It looks like a container of some kind. What is it you say when faced with the impossible again?
“I think we decided that it was impossible for Lord Harrington to have left the room and therefore he was still in it.” said Romney.
“When you ran your scan you found no exits, manifestations or apperations. Yet you did say…”
“The place could do with a bloody good dusting.” laughed the demon, “And so it could.” Victoria smiled and looked at the floor, running her hand over the flagstones and then moving a few feet to one side and then the other, repeating the process each time she did so.
“Dust everywhere on the floor.” she said. “Running spectral analysis.”
“On dust.” she said. To the casual onlooker all that would be noticed upon closer inspection was Victoria's pupils dilating slightly as she analysed the dirt. “Oh my.” she said more or less straight away.
“Carbon?” said the demon and she nodded her head.
“How did you know?”
“I said he was still in here, and I suppose technically he is. It’s the only logical explanation. It is only when you said about the dust I put two and two together, which means it must be carbon rich dust. Where’s the spider come into this then?”
“The lid on its back being open. The rain we saw. This spider must be of an exceptionally rare metal to house such a liquid.”
“Look at the inside of the carapace again.” Said Romney and she zoomed in on it again.
“Made of glass.” she sighed, “How clever.”
“And intricate.” said the demon.
“So the carapace contained a reactive liquid in a glass container?” asked Romney.
“Yes. The spider’s clockwork mechanism when put in place gives it enough time to spin a metal web to anchor it to its position.
“The ceiling?”
“Yes. Then when it senses movement - presumably some form of movement sensor probably powered by low level demonic presence.”
“Fifth circle I imagine. Almost completely undetectable.”
“Yes.” then the spider descends on a thread and the carapace opens, raining a small amount of the liquid inside it down onto the unfortunate creature below it.
“In this case Lord Harrington.”
“The same, yes. The liquid is highly volatile and reacts with an element of the air. Probably oxygen I imagine, and expands, raining a presumably organic acid down upon its victim.”
Romney chuckled. “Nasty stuff. It would dissolve anything it came in contact with.”
“Apart from the metal key which was found on the ground. Job done the spider ascends back up its thread and soon its mechanism wears down.”
“Very clever.” said the demon, “Very clever indeed.”
“So you were right.” chuckled Victoria, “Technically speaking Lord Harrington still is in the room.”
“Just don’t ask him to try and pick up the key.” Laughed Romney.
“Romney!” snorted Victoria, “It is a horrible way to go. You should not make light of it.”
“Quick way to go though, boss. Very quick.”
“There is that yes. I suspect I owe you five guineas. So. We have a method and I have two suspects. All we need now is a motive. I think that we should rejoin Inspector Vaillant. The family are no doubt growing restless. I think we should concentrate our efforts on Nigel Cavendish and Charlotte Harringto
n.”
“They the ones that referred to Lord Harrington in the past tense?” asked Romney.
“Indeed.” said Victoria, “You don’t have to turn back the pages of time to see that by referring to them in the past tense it does give a distinct impression that this little clockwork device is not entirely unfamiliar to them.”
They walked out of the room and collecting the lamp began to walk back down the steep tower steps and back towards the occupied area of the house, first passing through the fire ravaged west wing to get there.
“What would Charlotte or Cavendish gain from Lord Harrington’s death?” asked Romney. “Charlotte would not inherit after all. Montague would.”
“Or Cavendish. He has no family connection so the only motive imaginable for him is that someone exerted pressure upon him.”
They walked through the last fire damaged room now, the light from the lamp she was carrying splashing on the fire ravaged walls. In places overhead the stars were clearly visible through the remains of the roof.
“The Topping company!” said Victoria aloud. ““Roland Topping’s Minituarisations”. Cavendish said that he did some work with miniaturised parts for the Topping company. Babbage engine components.” Romney laughed loudly.
“Well now. I think we need to have a word with Mister Cavendish pretty sharpish.” said Victoria, and they quickened their pace back to the room where the relatives still sat, glaring at them as they entered the room. The inspector stood up almost expectantly and ushered them through to the side room where they had been sitting before.
“Have you found anything?” he asked quickly, looking at Victoria’s face closely as if he could read there what she had been doing.
“Indeed we have.” she said, “Quite a lot in fact.” she produced the clockwork spider from her pocket and showed it to the inspector, his eyes widening as he examined it. “The carapace contained a highly volatile organic acid that reacted with the air and showered down on Lord Harrington, dissolving him where he stood, leaving no trace whatsoever.”
“How ghastly!” exclaimed Vaillant as Victoria placed it back in her pocket.
‘Unfortunately for Mister Cavendish he let slip earlier that he did some work for “Roland Topping’s Miniaturisations”, the initials of said company being imprinted on the back of this device.”
“How unfortunate for him, yet very fortunate for us.” sniffed Vaillant. “I shall arrest him immediately.” he turned to leave the room but Victoria placed her hand upon his arm.
“Wait Inspector.” she said, “Cavendish has no motive. He is working at the behest of another party. We need to discover who that is and why they have taken the actions they have.”
“I see.” said Vaillant, “So we are no nearer than we were earlier.”
“Oh I wouldn’t say that.” said Victoria, “I wouldn’t say that at all. Inspector would you like to call in Charlotte please?” The Inspector turned to go but as he did so she called him back. “Do you have a match Inspector?” she asked, and he patted his pockets and passed her a small book of matches, frowning as he did so. “And a blank page from your notebook if you will.” The Inspector looked puzzled but plucked his notebook from inside his jacket and tore a page from it and handed it to her. Victoria placed it to one side on the table and nodded at the door, sitting herself down before the still blazing fire, warming herself as she did so.
The Inspector returned quickly, holding the door open for Charlotte who entered and strode across the room, her head held high, looking at Victoria curiously, as if examining her for anything she could determine from her. Victoria did not move however, but she did watch the young woman carefully, saw her eyes on her, then moving to gaze at the fire, then back to her briefly, and then back to the fire.
“You wish to see me again?” said Charlotte haughtily, “May I enquire with regards to what?”
“Just a few things I need to clarify really.” smiled Victoria, “You said that you overheard your father arguing with Montague about how he fritters away his money?”
“Yes. Montague has always spent more than his trust fund allocates to him. Father really was at the end of his tether with it all.”
“I see.” said Victoria, ‘Is that why Lord Harrington told you that he was going to disinherit Montague and make you his heir do you think?”
“How do you know that?” asked Charlotte quietly, her eyes Victoria noticed flicking away from the fire to her and then back to the fire again.
“Supposition.” she said. “Does Montague know?”
“No.” she said, not looking from the fire roaring in the large fireplace at all.
“I see.” said Victoria. Idly she picked up the torn page from the Inspector’s notebook from the table. Charlotte glanced at it idly as Victoria began to tear the paper into small pieces and placing them into an empty ashtray on the table before her eyes flicked back to the flames again.
“I think he will be very upset when he does find out.” smiled Victoria. Charlotte did not look away from the flames.
“No doubt.” said Charlotte, “But I shall ensure that I take care of him. He will never want for anything. As long as he learns to curtail his spending habits of course. There is also the small matter of the sale of the house. I am not sure that I am in full agreement with that now that I am the sole heir.”
“Of course.” smiled Victoria, pulling a match from the matchbook and lighting it. Instantly Charlotte turned from the fire and watched the match, her eyes dancing in the flames as Victoria lowered the match and lit the torn paper in the ash tray.
Instantly smoke rose from the fire in the small receptacle, but bright flames flickered there for a few seconds as the paper caught fire and burnt brightly. Victoria looked at the girl, her eyes lit by the flames, and a smile playing across her lips as she watched the fire fade, and as it did so a frown appeared on her face. Once it was out she turned her attention back to the fire once again.
“I am afraid Charlotte that your father is dead.” The young woman turned her face slowly to Victoria, her mouth opening slightly. Victoria could not be sure if it was shock or something else that showed upon her features. A small tear appeared at the corner of the woman’s eye and she turned back to the fire.
“I thought as much.” said the new owner of Harrington Hall, “Father was never one for grandiose displays. I did rather fear for the worst.”
“Tell me.” said Victoria, leaning back in her chair, “How exactly did the fire in the west wing start?” Charlotte’s head whipped around to face her, anger on her face.
“I fail to see the relevance of that!” she exclaimed, standing.
“Now then, Lady Harrington. Miss Neaves merely requires any help she can get.” said Vaillant, standing to calm her down, but she brushed off his hand angrily.
“Impertinent whelps the pair of you!” she shouted, turning in her heels and heading for the door, “To hell with your questions. You can bloody well rot in hell as far as I am concerned!” She turned and threw open the door, sobbing as she went, almost running from the room.
“Father is dead!” she heard Charlotte shout from the room outside and there were cries of outrage and pain from the family gathered there. Then the other doors could be heard opening as Charlotte fled that room too.
“Call in Cavendish.” said Victoria urgently, “Quickly man. That woman is dangerous. I just need one more thing.” Vaillant shot from the room, and seconds later appeared in the doorway, almost dragging Nigel Cavendish into the room.
“Sit down.” said Victoria, “Time is of the essence sir, so please answer my questions with all candor.”
“Of course.” said the obviously startled Cavendish. Victoria nodded solemnly as he sat down.
“Tell me.” she said, “Were you aware of Montague being disinherited?” Cavendish looked startled.
“Disinherited? Montague? Never heard the like of it!”
“Truth.” said Romney in her head. “Psychic scan ninety-eight percent corr
ect.”
“I see.” said Victoria, “Then I am afraid I must be blunt, Mister Cavendish. As I said, time is slipping away from us.”
“By all means.” he stuttered.
“The device you secured from Roland Topping’s Miniaturisations company.”
“Which device?” he whispered, totally without conviction.
“Lie.” said Romney. “Psychic scan ninety-nine point seven percent correct.”
“Come Mister Cavendish. I know you acquired this device.” she pulled the clockwork spider from her pocket and placed it on the table. The man looked crestfallen as he stared at it, the reflections from the fire reflected in the polished metal surface of the device. “I know you placed it on the ceiling of the room at the top of the tower, and that Charlotte was the person who made you do this. What I do not know are two things.”
“What are they?” said Cavendish, staring at the clockwork device.
“What I don’t know is why you did it, or how you got Lord Harrington into that room.”
Cavendish groaned aloud, seeming to almost crumble or shrink in on himself. He had the look now of a man who had surrendered and gave himself up to meet his fate. When he spoke his voice was thin and reedy as if even that had deserted him too.
“He was going to marry Charlotte off to one of those pipsqueak lords from Stafford. Charlotte said he had already arranged for Lord Corrigan to attend the next family gathering with the aim in mind of arranging her hand in marriage. Of course by this point I knew that Harrington was going to sell off the whole ruddy place so I told Charlotte that Lord Corrigan would more than likely be less than interested if she had no stately home of her own as such.”
“You are romantically involved with Charlotte, Nigel. This is true, is it not?” The older man shuffled awkwardly in his seat.
“That is correct.” he said. “For a year or so now.” Beside them Vaillant had his notebook out and was furiously scribbling in it.
“You told Lord Harrington, didn’t you?” she said and the man nodded.
The Complete Adventures of Victoria Neaves & Romney Page 16