I thought of the Whitechapel victims and the fact that it appeared those photographs had been taken with minimal light.
“What about photographs taken at night?” I asked.
I saw some vague response in the expression on his face. It might have been amusement, or…?
“You are certainly curious, Miss Forsythe.”
“I am merely attempting to understand how it all works.”
Again there was that faint almost-not-quite-smile that made me wonder what the man’s thoughts might be.
“How might you compensate for the lack of light?” I then asked. “For a photograph taken at night?”
He clenched the ivory cigarette holder between his teeth and spoke around it, his gaze on me quite keen.
“I have used a flash lamp from time to time as warranted.”
He then explained how it worked. “A gentleman in Germany has invented a flash lamp that is merely a narrow trough filled with a chemical mixture. When ignited by the photographer or an assistant there is a small explosion of light. It can be a bit dangerous if the chemicals are not mixed correctly.”
“What about box cameras and the use of photographic film?” I then asked.
“You seem to be quite well informed as to the latest processes, Miss Forsythe.”
“Merely curious,” I replied. “It does seem quite marvelous that most people can now take the most casual of photographs.”
He merely nodded. “The work produced is not of the quality that it is with a glass plate. The rolled film must then be processed.”
“Would film be suitable for photographs taken at night?”
“It might be done, but there would be a loss of clarity and definition of the subject.”
“Where might the film be processed?”
“Most of my brethren in photography have their own place for such things— a dark room if you will, for extracting the glass plates then transferring the image onto photographic paper. It takes some time for the photo to develop.
“Amateurs might develop their own rolled film, however most of them take their work to someone who might be able to assist— a chemist or someone who dabbles in such things.”
This last bit of information with noticeable disdain, I thought.
“Do you consider your photographs to be art?” I then asked. He was thoughtful before replying.
“There are times when an opportunity presents itself with a subject that could be considered quite artistic. Some of my colleagues have a small niche in a gallery or a museum where they are allowed to display their work.”
“Have you had your work displayed, sir?” I then asked, most curious since he seemed to consider himself quite the artist.
Once again there was that very odd expression.
“I display my own work, Miss Forsythe.”
It might have been my imagination, but it seemed that he chose his words most carefully. I wondered what that might mean.
“You have been quite successful,” I commented.
He shrugged. “It is not so much a profession as an art. However, if the opportunity is there…”
I showed him the first photograph of Amelia Mainwaring. Did I see a faint reaction?
“A typical photograph that a family might have taken. Most definitely taken with a glass plate camera. See the clarity and definition of the subject? Pleasant looking young woman.”
