by Laura Ruby
Jaime frowned. “Ada Lovelace? I don’t remember that name on our list.”
“She’s the daughter of Lord Byron, the poet. She was a mathematician. Studied computers in the 1840s.”
“I thought that the Morningstarrs were the only ones working on computers and robots and that kind of thing,” Jaime said.
“No, said Theo. “A guy named Charles Babbage was working on them, too. Ada Lovelace worked with him.”
“And she was ignored for a long time. A lot of people said she was delusional,” said Tess.
“Huh,” said Theo.
Tess’s excitement illuminated the foggy corners of her mind, brightening everything. “What do you want to bet she corresponded with the Morningstarrs? She must have. They were building machines unlike anyone else. Maybe she even came to New York City.”
“I’ve never read anything about that,” said Theo.
“Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” Tess insisted. “We don’t know everything about the Morningstarrs.”
“That’s my point,” said Theo. By his expression, however, Tess knew he believed she was onto something.
“Let’s do some searches on Ada and see if there’s any mention of her being in New York City.”
They spent a couple of hours searching both the web and Grandpa Ben’s notebooks, but didn’t find any evidence that Ada Lovelace had ever come to New York City or any indication that there was correspondence with the Morningstarrs. Theo wanted to risk a call to the Cipherist Society to ask them, but Tess didn’t.
“Remember what happened the last time?” she said.
“Okay, but—”
“I don’t want to ask for help unless we absolutely have to,” Tess said. “I don’t want anyone else hurt or . . .” She trailed off.
“We get it,” Jaime said, giving her shoulder a friendly bump. “We don’t want anyone else to get hurt, either. But if Ada Lovelace never came to New York City and never wrote to Theodore or Theresa, or if she did and we can’t find the evidence, then where are we going to look for the next clue?”
They surveyed the piles of notebooks and reams of notes they’d taken in silence for a moment. Then Theo said, “Well, there are a lot of Ada Lovelace’s writings where she discussed the potential of Charles Babbage’s Analytical Engine.”
“A computer?” Jaime asked.
“Yeah, early one,” Theo said. “He was developing the Analytical Engine around the same time that the Morningstarrs were building their machines, though the Morningstarrs’ work was much more advanced. But maybe he came to New York? Maybe he wrote the Morningstarrs?”
They spent another hour combing the notebooks and the web for Charles Babbage and his various engines in New York City. They found out that Babbage had made some discoveries in cryptography, breaking something called the Vigenère cipher, that he was a sought-after dinner guest because he was such a good storyteller—it even said he’d met Ada Lovelace at one of his own parties.
“I can’t find anything that says he came to New York City, though,” said Theo.
Jaime, who had been scrolling through his phone, suddenly looked up. “Maybe Ada or Charles never came to New York City, but some of their letters did.”
“What letters?” said Tess. “Where are they?”
“My favorite place. Well, my favorite place besides the comic-book store.”
“Your grandmother’s kitchen?”
“Okay, my third favorite place.”
“Where?”
“Where all the best mysteries are. The New York Public Library.”
CHAPTER SIX
Theo
To get to the main branch of the library, Theo, Tess, and Jaime took the 7 train, and walked the rest of the way. The day was hot and humid, so by the time they arrived at the library steps, they were eager to get into the cool air inside the building. Still, they stopped to admire Patience and Fortitude, the stone lions that decorated the entrance of the library. As Jaime did a quick sketch of Patience, and Nine imitated the lion’s posture, Tess said, “Wouldn’t it be amazing if the lions were Morningstarr Machines, too?”
“The Morningstarrs didn’t build Machines that looked like mammals,” said Theo.
“I sometimes wish they had,” said Tess. “No one would mess with those lions.”
Theo said, “If you believe the rumors, the library doesn’t need lions for protection.”
Though the building itself had been built long after the time of the Morningstarrs, it was said that Morningstarr Machines roamed the library at night. What kind of machines, no one could say. Once, a man had hidden in a bathroom after closing time and tried to steal a map from one of the collections. Two days later, the police found the map in its proper place in the collection and the would-be thief locked in a maintenance closet in a Bug’s Burgers on Staten Island. All the man would say about his time in the library was “So shiny. So, so shiny.”
But the only thing that was shining right now was the sun. Theo scratched at his head, where the sweat trickled in his thick, bushy hair. “Can we go inside now?”
“Why? Are you losing Patience?” Tess said.
Jaime tucked his sketchbook into his pocket, looked Theo over. “Definitely a loss of Fortitude.”
“You’re both dorks,” said Theo, and charged up the steps, nearly running over a pale, blond woman in a red dress and matching shoes who swerved into his path. She tossed a dirty look over her shoulder, then pushed through the library doors.
Theo still heard her candy-apple heels click-clacking on the stone as they entered the cool cave of the library. Light poured down from the high windows over the doors and washed the cream-colored walls and floors in gold. Huge archways led into grand staircases. As much as he loved the archives of the Old York Cipherist Society, Theo loved the library even more. Not only had Grandpa Ben and Grandma Annie taken him to the library when he and Tess were small, his parents had, too. It even smelled like home to him.
Jaime said, “Okay, we have to find the Pforzheimer Collection. I think it’s on the third floor. There should be letters to Babbage from Ada. Did you know that her real name was Ada King, Countess of Lovelace?”
“Ha! The Countess of Lovelace. The Countess! Get it?” Theo said. “She was a mathematician!”
“Wait, who’s the dork now?” said Tess.
“Just because you don’t have a sense of humor,” Theo said.
They climbed the steps to the third floor and approached the information desk. The librarian was a youngish woman with short black hair, tan skin, and huge green glasses that swallowed most of her face.
“Sure, you’ll find plenty of material under the heading ‘Sioux,’” she was saying to the teenager in front of her, “but the word Sioux is a colonial word, a mispronunciation. I would also look up the Lakota and Dakota.”
The teenager, a white kid wearing a wool hat that made Theo itch just looking at it, said, “Why are there so many different names for the same people?”
The librarian shrugged with one shoulder. “What other people call you is not always what you call yourself. Sometimes it’s out of disrespect. Sometimes it’s out of misunderstanding.”
“Huh,” said the kid. “Never thought of that. Thanks for the info.”
“Happy to help,” said the librarian.
The kid tipped his woolen hat and turned to leave. His eyes widened at the sight of Nine, but then he tipped his woolen hat at her, too, before walking away. The librarian waved Theo, Tess, and Jaime forward.
Jaime said, “Hi! We’re here to see some letters in the Pforzheimer Collection?”
“Ah! Fabulous! Which letters would you like to see?” the librarian asked.
“The letters from Ada King to Charles Babbage?”
“The Countess of Lovelace! Isn’t that perfect title for a mathematician? Countess? Get it?” said the librarian.
“You have an excellent sense of humor,” Theo announced, mostly for Tess’s benefit.
“That’s very
true, though not everyone appreciates it,” said the librarian.
“Tell me about it,” said Theo. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me about it because I know. Uh, unless you want to.” Tess and Jaime turned to stare at him. Theo’s face got hot, as if he were outside in the humid air instead of inside of the library.
The librarian didn’t seem to notice his awkwardness or had so much experience with awkwardness that his wasn’t remarkable.
Theo liked her eyeglasses.
“There are some procedures you have to follow if you want to see the letters,” she told them. “You can’t take them out of their sleeves. And you can’t take them out of the library. And I’m sorry, I know your kitty is a therapy animal, but fur doesn’t always agree with old documents. I’d like her to stay out here with me, if that’s okay with you. And her.”
Nine peered up at the librarian and meowed.
“That’s okay with her,” said Tess.
“Great,” said the librarian, whose name tag said Dr. Deborah Little Crow. “I’ll show you to room 319 and retrieve the letters for you.”
Dr. Little Crow walked them to room 319 and unlocked the door with a key card. She opened the door and turned on the lights. It was a medium-sized room with various shelves and filing cabinets around the perimeter, and a round table with some chairs in the center. A portrait of Ada Lovelace hung over one of the filing cabinets. Dark curls framed her face. Hooded eyes seemed to stare at him.
“She was only thirty-six when she died,” said Dr. Little Crow, when she saw where Theo was looking. “And she had been really ambitious, too. She saw more potential for Charles Babbage’s designs than he did.” She bent and let Nine sniff her hand before scratching the cat between the ears. “Okay, Kitty, you stay right here while I get these guys set up.” Nine sat and stared peacefully into the middle distance as if that had been her plan all along.
The librarian entered the room and pulled a binder off the shelf. She opened the binder on the table and paged through the plastic-covered letters until she came upon what she was looking for. “The King–Babbage letters begin right here. You can have a seat and examine them for as long as you want.”
“Thank you!” said Tess.
“No problem,” said the librarian. “I’ll be at the desk with your kitty.”
“Her name is Nine,” Tess told her.
“Is it?” Dr. Little Crow said. “What a great name!” To the cat, she said, “Come on, you beautiful thing. I’m sure I can scavenge up some treats for you. Crows are good at that.” She laughed at her own joke and closed the door behind her, leaving Theo, Tess, and Jaime alone with the Countess of Lovelace.
A mathematician called “Countess.”
It was still funny.
Maybe one day he’d marry a librarian.
“Theo, are you going to stand there daydreaming about Dr. Little Crow or are you going to help us look at these letters?” Tess said.
Theo sat down at the table. There were six letters in total, all sent between 1843 and 1844. They took turns reading the letters out loud, taking notes and pictures, trying to figure out if there were any hidden messages or codes.
“It is an omission not to have sent me the drawings to which continual reference is made throughout your packet of papers . . . ,” the first one began.
Then: “The solution was (as you supposed) of the simplest description.”
“I have just told Weatstone that I cannot consent to your making the reuse of the remaining notes. So send them to me at once, pray.”
“In consequence of the enclosed, I am starting for Town; & I shall send this to you immediately on my arrival . . .”
“We are quite delighted at yr (somewhat unhoped for) proposal, this mor.g received. . . .”
On the surface, none of the letters seemed to hint at any particular clues. It was only when they reached the sixth letter, sent in October 1844, that things got more interesting:
“‘I so enjoyed the symposium last April and am eager to arrange another such trip. I am still mourning the loss of my gift, however,’” Theo read. “‘I was looking forward to solving the puzzle.’”
“The puzzle!” said Tess. “What puzzle?”
Theo read through the rest of the letter. “She doesn’t say. And she doesn’t give any specifics about this symposium, either.” He pushed the binder away, rubbed his forehead and the bridge of his nose, and caught the knowing eyes of Ada King, Countess of Lovelace, in the portrait on the wall.
Jaime said, “I know it’s just a picture, but it feels like she’s in the room, staring down at us.”
“It really does,” said Tess. “It’s as if she’s willing us to find something. Or knows we’re missing something.”
Theo glanced at the closed door, then got up to grab a couple of tissues from a box on top of a cabinet. He sat down again and pulled the binder closer. Using the tissues to cover his fingertips, he reached into the plastic pocket and slid the letter out. “Sorry, Dr. Little Crow,” he muttered.
The three of them held their breath, but there was nothing on the back of the letter, nothing lightly scratched between the lines.
“Maybe it’s written in invisible ink again?” Jaime suggested.
“We didn’t bring any solvents,” said Tess. “Some cipherists we are.”
Theo used the tissues to remove the other King–Babbage letters, but again, there was nothing on the back of any of them, nothing to indicate any clues. “Maybe we took a wrong turn somewhere,” he said. “Maybe the gown has nothing to do with Ada at all.” Starting with the first letter, he carefully returned each to their protective sleeves. But when he lifted the sixth letter, he paused.
“What?” said Jaime.
“The paper feels heavier than the rest.” He covered his palm with one of tissues and laid the paper on top of it to examine the edge. “It’s thicker, too.” He sighed when he realized what he had to do. “I’m really sorry, Dr. Little Crow.” He used the tip of his index finger to dig at the corner of the paper.
“Theo,” Tess warned.
“I know,” he said, but he kept digging, as gently as he could. Soon, a little flap of paper had come away from the original. Someone had pasted an extra piece of paper over the back of this letter so neatly that no one had detected it.
Until now.
When the flap was big enough, Theo peeled the two pieces of paper apart to reveal what had been written on the back of Ada’s sixth letter to Charles Babbage.
First, she had scrawled two small drawings:
“Isn’t that a Rubik’s cube? I didn’t know they existed in the 1800s,” said Jaime.
“I don’t think they did,” said Theo.
Underneath the drawings, Ada had written:
The puzzle fit in the palm of my hand. Made of silver and gemstones. I believe I left it in the M.s’ drawing room. I wonder if that empty-headed little girl with the yellow hair stole it. She was clutching her reticule quite tightly when she returned to the table, if I recall.
If she doesn’t melt it down out of sheer frustration, I can imagine she will deposit it in a spare box in her attic, to be found by a descendant and displayed in some museum or another a hundred hundred years from now. One more mysterious relic among many.
Oh, we have much work to do to, Mr. Babbage. Much work.
Yours,
A.A.L.
Below the text, someone—Ada? Someone else?—had scrawled this:
FCHBMFWSHFUVWSXLJSMCBHWJU
“Does that look like the same handwriting to you?” Jaime said. “Because I’m not sure it is.”
“Someone could have added this cipher and hidden the text on the back with that second sheet of paper,” said Tess.
“But when? This collection has been here for only twenty years,” Jaime said. “And how or why would they do that?”
“That’s a good question,” said Theo.
Tess pointed to the writing. “She writes here about ‘the M.s’ drawing room.’ She has to be
talking about the Morningstarrs.”
“She could be talking about anyone whose name begins with M,” Theo said.
“Come on, Theo!” Tess said. “It’s too adorable.”
“I hate when you say that.”
Jaime copied the text of the letter into his sketchbook and then took a photo for good measure. He was just slipping the phone back into his pocket when there was a brief knock on the door. Theo barely had time to close the binder before the door opened and Dr. Little Crow appeared. “How are you guys doing?” she said.
“Great!” said Jaime calmly, smoothly, innocently. “We’re almost done.”
“Whew! I think Nine’s gained nine pounds on all the treats I’ve given her. She’s napping them off now.”
“Well, Nine eats for ten,” said Tess.
Dr. Little Crow’s eyes fell on the closed binder. “You guys find anything?”
“Ada was very passionate,” Tess offered.
“She was,” agreed the librarian. “You know, I never asked you why you guys were so interested in her.”
“Isn’t everyone?” said Tess.
Dr. Little Crow laughed. “Not as many as should be! But school isn’t in session yet. Shouldn’t you be out swimming or biking or generally causing your parents grief?”
“We’re overachievers,” Theo said. He was dead serious, but the librarian laughed again, as if he’d made a joke. Lots of people thought he was making jokes when he wasn’t and didn’t realize he was making jokes when he was. It was irritating.
Maybe he should keep his options open when it came to marriage.
Then again, her glasses were really awesome.
“Well, let me know if you need anything else,” Dr. Little Crow said. She shut the door.
“We should clean up and go,” said Tess. “She’s been really nice, but I feel bad saddling her with Nine all this time.”
“So should we erase the cipher on the back of this letter?” Theo said.
“I vote that we take some pictures and then cover up the back,” Jaime said. “We put it in the sleeve the way it was. I don’t want anyone else to find it, and I don’t want Dr. Little Crow to get in trouble for what we did.”