The Inventor

by Emily Organ

  “It may surprise you to learn that European monks were proficient manufacturers of clocks during the Dark Ages, and I believe that Wells Cathedral housed one of the first ever mechanical clocks.”

  “You have an impressive capability for recalling facts, Mr Edwards!” enthused Georgina.

  “It’s because the chap works in a library,” said Edgar. “I would know all this if I worked in a library.”

  “No, Edgar, you wouldn’t,” retorted his wife, removing a ginger cat from the table.

  “Rather amusingly, the French attempted to implement a decimal time system about ninety years ago,” continued Mr Edwards. “They had one hundred seconds in a minute, one hundred minutes in an hour and ten hours in a day.”

  Frederick snorted. “That’s the French for you.”

  “I could listen to you all day, Mr Edwards,” said Clara, her chin resting on her hands. “You’re such a clever man.”

  Mr Edwards coloured slightly, and Frederick scowled.

  “You must adore your job at the library, Mr Edwards,” said Georgina. “It’s clear that you have a passion for knowledge.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he replied, his face still slightly red. “My job can become rather boring at times, so that’s when I turn to reading books. I can’t say I relish the thought of working in a library for the rest of my days. There are far more interesting pursuits in life. Such as being a news reporter!” He looked at me and smiled.

  “Oh no,” said Edgar. “You wouldn’t want to do that. Potter and Miss Green would agree with me, I’m sure.”

  “There are good days and bad days,” I said. “But I must say I’m rather tired of trying to find out what incident has occurred at the Morning Express offices.” I had been waiting impatiently to ask the question ever since we had sat down for dinner.

  “They still haven’t caught the chap who threw the brick,” said Edgar.

  “I’m not talking about the brick. I was present for the brick incident,” I replied. “I’m referring to the more recent incident, which Mr Sherman refuses to tell me about.”

  “It was nothing,” said Edgar.

  “Nothing at all,” added Frederick.

  “But it had to be something. Otherwise, why would he ask me to stay away?” I asked.

  “Veal pie!” shrilled Georgina, clapping her hands together with glee as her staff served up the next course. “We’ve had some wonderful veal recently, haven’t we, Edgar?”

  “It really is delightful veal,” said Edgar.

  “I had some spectacular veal in Marseille once,” added Frederick.

  “I cannot help but notice that you’ve changed the topic of conversation,” I said. “But I really must know what happened at the office.”

  “I’m sure it will only be a day or two before you can return,” said Edgar. “They have almost finished the repainting now.”

  “Why did the office require repainting?”

  “To cover up the smoke damage,” said Frederick.

  “Shush!” said Edgar.

  “Smoke?” I exclaimed. “From what?”

  “My pipe,” chuckled Edgar.

  “Please be honest with me,” I said. “Was there a fire?”

  “Only a small one,” said Frederick.

  “Shush!” said Edgar again. “We’re not supposed to say!”

  “Why aren’t you supposed to say?” I asked.

  “Mr Sherman doesn’t wish you to feel worried.”

  “Someone set fire to the office?” I probed.

  “They tried to,” replied Edgar with a sigh.

  “But that’s dreadful! Was anyone hurt?”

  “Thankfully, no. It was late in the evening and a chap from the Holborn Gazette spotted it before it really took hold.”

  “And scored himself a story at the same time,” said Frederick.

  “We didn’t publish anything,” added Edgar. “Mr Sherman felt those responsible should not be given any publicity.”

  “Have they been caught?”

  “Afraid not,” said Edgar.

  “But there’s no suggestion that this has anything to do with the brick which was thrown through the window, is there? It could have been entirely unrelated.”

  “Two attacks on our office within the same week?” said Edgar. “The same culprit must be behind both incidents.”

  “Oh, don’t say that,” I said. “I feel terrible knowing that I’m responsible for all this.”

  “Please don’t feel terrible about it, Miss Green,” said Edgar. “You weren’t even supposed to know about the fire.”

  “Well I’m pleased that I know about it because I don’t want anything to be hidden from me. I must find a way to make recompense for what has happened.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that,” said Edgar.

  “No, you shouldn’t worry about that, Penny,” said Georgina. “You’re such a darling, delightful person that you mustn’t concern yourself over these unpleasant matters. In fact, you mustn’t think about them at all. How are you finding the pie?”

  “It’s lovely. Thank you, Georgina.”

  “I must say, Miss Green, that you have some wonderfully supportive friends and colleagues,” Mr Edwards chimed in, holding up his glass. “I propose a toast to no longer worrying about such matters.”

  Everyone raised their glasses and joined in with the toast. I smiled, but inside I felt that they were all missing the point somewhat. The people behind Richard Geller and Simon Borthwick’s deaths were still at large.

  “How is Lillian faring?” I asked Georgina.

  “She’s well, thank you. She had a slight fever, which she’s recovering from. However, there’s been a slight hiccup as her poor husband has lost his job.”

  I felt my stomach flip. This was something else I felt partly responsible for. I decided to pretend that I had heard nothing of it.

  “It’s not too concerning for the Maynells,” interjected Edgar, “seeing as Lillian comes from an extremely wealthy family.”

  “But it’s still sad news for her husband,” I said, aware of the insincerity in my voice. “Is Mr Repton laying off many of his workers?”

  “Another of Jeffrey’s colleagues also lost his job,” continued Georgina. “But only the two of them, and Lillian was extremely surprised because she believes they were two of Repton’s best men. Along with Borthwick, of course. Mr Repton has lost all three of them now.”

  “The company must be in rather a precarious position,” said Mr Edwards. “It’s committed to completing that large project in Kensington; one of the first of its kind in the world! How will Mr Repton achieve such a feat if he is losing all his staff?”

  Chapter 51

  “Good afternoon, Miss Green. Are you working?” Mr Edwards whispered as I sat at my desk in the reading room.

  I quickly folded away the notes I had made from my conversation with Mr Hamilton.

  “Yes, Mr Edwards.”

  “You shouldn’t be, not with your injury. And are you sure that it’s safe for you to be out and about? What if that woman tries to attack you again?”

  “I’m keeping an eye out for her, Mr Edwards. I can’t allow her to stop me from living my life. And the police should have her under arrest very soon.”

  I smiled in an attempt hide my anxiety. The truth was I felt quite nervous going about my daily business, finding myself checking my surroundings whenever possible. But to hide away would have been to admit defeat.

  “If you’re sure, Miss Green.” Mr Edwards sighed. “Did you enjoy the dinner party?”

  “I did, thank you.”

  “It was extremely pleasant to acquaint myself better with your colleagues. The Fishes are wonderfully hospitable people.”

  “I must say that Edgar is more tolerable when accompanied by his wife.”

  Mr Edwards laughed, and I recalled how impressed Georgina and Clara had been with him. Perhaps I had failed to recognise his true eligibility.

  “I hope you don’t
mind me asking, Miss Green, but would you? Oh—”

  The smile disappeared from his face as he noticed someone walking towards us. “Inspector Blakely,” he said. “You’re here to see Miss Green, I take it.”

  “Absolutely.” James grinned, and my heart skipped a beat. “I have an update for you, Penny,” said James. “Do you have a brief moment?”

  “I do indeed.” I gathered up my papers and put them into my carpet bag under the watchful and disappointed gaze of Mr Edwards.

  “I thought Charlotte had prohibited you from visiting the Museum Tavern,” I said as we sat down at a table with our drinks.

  James rolled his eyes. “I might have known you would refer to that again. She hasn’t prohibited me from visiting this public house and neither has she prohibited us from speaking. It’s just that… Actually, I don’t wish to dwell on the matter any longer. How are you? I heard about the attack at Moorgate Station. Dreadful news. How’s your shoulder?”

  “It’s fine, thank you, James. It hurts a little when I move my arm, but no real harm was done.”

  He shook his head. “It shouldn’t have happened,” he said. “And you should be at home recuperating.”

  “I’ve been sitting around at home for a few days and it’s been thoroughly tedious.”

  “Have the City of London police arrested anyone yet?”

  I laughed. “What do you think, James?”

  “You didn’t have to speak to Chief Inspector Stroud about it, did you?”

  “No, it was one of his colleagues. I’ve told him I suspect that it was Maria Forsyth and that all he needs to do is contact Inspector Rigby to find out where she lives. I shall visit them again tomorrow to ensure that it happens.”

  “If only it were that easy.”

  “It must be, mustn’t it?”

  “Let me explain something else first, then I’ll tell you where we’ve got to with Maria Forsyth.”

  He removed some folded papers from the inside pocket of his jacket. I could see they were the malicious letters which had been written about me.

  “Thank you for your telegram and apology,” he said as he unfolded them. “Although it wasn’t necessary. There was no need to apologise.”

  “I felt I owed it to you.”

  We held each other’s gaze and then James cleared his throat.

  “I’ve had a graphologist look at these and the findings are, frankly, quite surprising. These letters are forgeries.”

  “Really?”

  “Apparently so.”

  “But how can the graphologist tell?”

  “I have no idea, but I trust the professional’s opinion. I gave him the unpleasant letters which had been sent to your friends and family, and then the letters Maynell and Copeland had written to Borthwick. By comparing the handwriting in the letters he was able to deduce that the handwriting in the anonymous letters was copied.”

  “But how? They look identical to me.”

  “And to me. That’s probably why we’re not graphologists, Penny. He did try explaining it to me. Something about the upper and lower extensions not flowing as naturally as they should. He assured me that they were exceptionally good forgeries, however.”

  “So Maynell and Copeland weren’t lying. They were telling us the truth! And someone framed them. You do realise that Repton has dismissed both men?”

  “Yes, I did hear that.” James rubbed his chin. “Perhaps I should have asked the graphologist to look at the letters before we spoke to Repton.”

  “With hindsight, yes.”

  “Repton didn’t realise the letters had been forged, did he?” said James. “He was equally convinced by them.”

  “We all were. And as for the remaining letters, they were presumably written in the handwriting of other individuals the forger wished to frame. I wonder who they might be.”

  “Well, we could try to find out, but we don’t want it to detract from the main course of the investigation. We need to find out who forged these letters. We must also rule Maynell and Copeland out and inform Mr Repton as soon as possible that he needs to reinstate them.”

  “Maria Forsyth,” I said. “It has to be her! You need to speak to her again.”

  “I’ve tried,” James said with a sigh, “but I don’t think Maria Forsyth is her real name.”

  “What?”

  “I asked Inspector Rigby for her address because I wished to discuss the earring with her. But the family at the address she gave him had never come across a woman matching her description.”

  “She gave a false name and address?”

  “She certainly did.”

  “Inspector Rigby should have arrested her while he had the chance!” I fumed. “And to think that Mr Edwards caught her and then found himself in trouble for doing so! I knew she was a criminal, but no one would listen to me.”

  “With the greatest respect to Inspector Rigby, he had no evidence to suggest that she was a criminal.”

  “I told him what she was up to. It couldn’t have been more obvious that she was trouble.”

  I gulped down the rest of my sherry and slumped back against the seat.

  “Now what do we do, James? She stuck a knife in my shoulder and next time the outcome could be far worse! I am trying not to be fearful, James, but I can’t help worrying now. We must find her, and fast!”

  “We don’t know for sure that it was her who attacked you, but I agree that it’s a possibility. And I think you’d be far safer remaining at home until we’ve tracked her down. However, as you’ve already told me how boring that is I doubt I’ll be able to persuade you to, will I?”

  I shook my head in reply.

  “I’ve had a jeweller look at the earring we found in the medical school museum,” continued James. “It appears to be quite a costly item and was sold by Villier & Powell’s in Burlington Arcade.”

  “So we must take it to the jewellers and find out who purchased it!”

  “I have already done so, Penny.”

  “Then who bought the earrings?”

  “The young gentleman at the jewellers didn’t know.”

  “Oh.”

  “He found a record of the sale and was able to tell me that the purchase was made approximately three months ago for one hundred pounds.”

  “But he couldn’t recall who had come into the shop that day and paid such a significant sum for a pair of earrings?”

  “Sadly, he couldn’t.”

  “It’s her, isn’t it, James? Everything now points to the woman who calls herself Maria Forsyth. We must make every effort to find her again. Where is she?”

  Chapter 52

  Donald Repton presented a lonely figure as he stood within the subterranean engine house at the Kensington Court development. Several paraffin lamps had been positioned on the floor.

  “Hello, Inspector! Miss Green!” He smoothed down his shock of white hair. “What brings you down here again?”

  “We wish to offer an apology,” said James.

  “Oh no, I’m quite sure there is no need for you to apologise for anything.” He took a hip flask from his pocket and offered it to James.

  “No thank you, Mr Repton. How is your work progressing?”

  Two engines had now been installed, but I knew that another five were needed. And the space where the generators should have stood remained empty.

  “I cannot deny that we’re a little behind schedule,” replied Repton, taking a swig from his flask.

  “I’m sure you’ll catch up before long,” said James with a lack of conviction to his voice. “I must reiterate my apology, Mr Repton. I’ve had the letters we believed Mr Maynell and Mr Copeland to have written examined, and it transpires that the letters are forgeries.”

  “Someone else wrote them?”

  “That’s what a graphologist has said.”

  “Oh, I see.” Mr Repton’s mouth hung open as he considered the implications of this.

  “I’m aware that Mr Maynell and Mr Copeland were summarily
dismissed,” continued James. “May I suggest that you reinstate them as soon as possible? I regret the error I have made with my accusation and feel terribly conscience-stricken that two men have been dismissed from their profession as a result.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that,” replied Repton. “I had planned to dismiss them anyway.”

  “Had you?” I asked. “Why?”

  “The truth of the matter is I have found a buyer for the company.”

  “You’re selling Repton, Borthwick and Company?” James asked.

  “Yes, to a company in Doncaster. They have been manufacturing generators for longer than I have, and I’ve come to realise that the work required here in Kensington is more than I can manage.”

  “But surely Mr Maynell and Mr Copeland could be invited back to work for the new employer,” I suggested.

  “I don’t have time for all that before I depart.”

  “Depart?” I queried. “Where are you going?”

  “To America!” he replied. “I’m heading across the pond.” He took another gulp from his flask.

  “Why?” asked James.

  “For the opportunities which that great nation presents, electricity is a burgeoning industry there. I could make three times the amount of money in America, it’s an idea which I’ve been considering for a while.”

  “Wasn’t Simon Borthwick also planning to move to America?” I asked.

  “Was he?” asked James. “How do you know this?”

  “His friend Richard Geller had been offered a position within the medical school at the University of Pennsylvania,” I explained. “Apparently, Mr Geller had asked Mr Borthwick to accompany him.”

  “Were you aware of Borthwick’s plans to travel to America, Mr Repton?” asked James.

  “The matter was discussed between us,” he replied with a hardened glance. His manner was notably less affable than it had been up to this point.

  “And what was your reaction upon hearing that your most successful engineer and inventor was preparing to move overseas?”

  “I assumed that he would soon change his mind.”

  “Did he mention to you what he planned to do in America?” asked James.