Wrexford came over to examine them. “What the devil are they up to?” he muttered.
“It clearly involves numbers.” She pointed to a large basket sitting on one of the shelves. It was filled with ivory wheels bearing the numerals zero through nine precisely spaced along the outer rim.
Sheffield had wandered off to explore behind the forge. Hearing his grunt of surprise, they rushed to join him.
“Why would Sudler have such a collection of . . . toys?” exclaimed their friend.
“Because,” answered the earl as he approached the display table hidden in the alcove, “they’re not toys. They’re automata.”
“Ah, right,” murmured Sheffield. “That’s the term Hedley used for . . .”
“For complex mechanical devices which are constructed with incredibly precise engineering,” finished Wrexford, “allowing them to perform very sophisticated movements and functions.”
He stepped closer to the collection and wound the key hidden at the back of one of the automata. It was the one mentioned by Hedley . . . the figure of a lady attired in an elegant ball gown, perhaps a foot tall and crafted entirely out of silver.
Charlotte gasped in amazement as the figure began to dance, spinning in circles upon its metal platform as it moved its arms and legs in harmony with the notes coming from a hidden music box beneath the platform.
“That’s magical!” she said once the spring had unwound and the lady had come to a stop.
“An apt description, as Hedley told us it was made by John Merlin.” Wrexford looked up from examining the base of the automaton. “He also told Kit and me that Sudler has had a passion for automata since his university days. I would guess he’s collected them in order to study their inner workings, which would help with the design for his own devices.”
“And all this?” Sheffield gestured back at the machinery.
“It takes complex tools to craft complex parts,” answered the earl. “I would guess that Sudler has to make all the pieces himself for his complicated designs.”
“That makes sense.” Charlotte frowned in thought. “However, I can’t help but wonder . . . We’ve seen the plans lying on the counter and all the equipment for fabricating the individual parts. But where is the automaton that he’s building?”
“Perhaps he hasn’t yet started,” said Sheffield. “Or perhaps he took it with him.”
Wrexford remained silent for a moment, his expression turning troubled. “It seems to me there’s an even more pressing question,” he said. “Why does Sudler need Lady Cordelia?”
Charlotte felt a shiver snake down her spine. “Or vice versa,” she whispered.
Sheffield stared at her in dismay. “You think it’s Lady Cordelia who is spearheading a nefarious plot, rather than her brother?”
Charlotte hated to see the warring of hope and despair in his eyes. But it was becoming increasingly hard to see any other explanation for what was going on. “Woodbridge isn’t nearly as clever as his sister,” she pointed out. “I’m not sure he’s capable of figuring out a complex financial plan to profit from all the money he has apparently borrowed. But . . .”
She paused to compose her thoughts, trying to find the words to express her fears as gently as possible.
Wrexford had no such compunction. “Lady Cordelia has both the brains and the sangfroid to come up with a plan to save her brother from financial ruin. We know that from past experience. And as for profit, you yourself know she has a head for business.”
A tiny throat muscle jumped as Sheffield tightened his jaw.
“Perhaps what’s going on is perfectly legal,” continued the earl. “But when you add up the facts—a murder that connects, however tenuously, to Hoare’s Bank, and the sudden flight of both brother and sister—the answer does seem to indicate that they’re up to no good.”
He paused. “I’m sorry, Kit, but it’s nigh on impossible to imagine that it wasn’t she who came up with the plan.”
Touching a finger to the smoothly sculpted face of the silver dancer, Sheffield then traced the delicate planes of her face. “Much I as wish to disagree, I can’t in good conscience offer any argument.”
The glimmer of the precious metal suddenly stirred a question in Charlotte’s mind.
“Silver,” she said. “Or rather argentum. Have we given any more thought to the clerk’s dying words and what he might have meant?”
Wrexford shook his head. “I can’t begin to hazard a guess. The only metals I see in the workshop are brass, steel, and iron. Until we’re able to speak with Lady Cordelia and her brother—”
“And Professor Sudler,” she interjected. “He’s involved for a reason.”
“Yes, but until we know what that reason is, we’re simply trying to grab at shadows—a mere trick of light.” The earl grimaced. “Naught but thin air that slips through our fingers.”
