At this hour, Cordelia and the professor would be hard at work running their calculations, and the boys had left their aerie earlier in order to watch. Raven was especially fascinated by the Computing Engine. And while she acknowledged that the mechanical complexities were a technical wonder, it was the flesh-and-blood warmth of friends that Charlotte sought, rather than the solitude of waiting alone to hear from Wrexford about the confrontation.
The earl’s implication that Copley might be the mastermind of Argentum had chilled her to the marrow. She had no illusions on how often the better angels of human nature were seduced into falling from grace. Still, she hadn’t wanted to believe that the evildoing could emanate from the East India Company’s directors. The power, the privileges, the money they received legitimately should be enough to satisfy anyone.
“Why?” she whispered, making her way through the damp gloom of the darkened scullery, even though she had long ago learned the answer. For some people, lust—for money, for power, for control—was never satiated.
The thought stirred a pebbling of gooseflesh on her flesh. Another reminder of how dangerous an enemy they were facing.
As she slipped out into the corridor, a glimmer of light up ahead helped banish her brooding. Theclack-clackof the machine grew louder as she entered the room. The professor was turning the hand crank, setting off a wink of gold sparks from the spinning gears and rotating brass rods. Cordelia was sitting beside him, working furiously with pencil and paper, while Raven watched the proceeding over her shoulder.
With all the noise, they didn’t hear her come in. Harper, however, awoke from his slumber and woofed a friendly greeting. He no longer looked quite so intimidating. Perhaps that was because Hawk was curled up against the hound’s middle, head pillowed on his shoulder.
The boy sat up and yawned. “Mathematics is boring,” he confided as Charlotte crouched down to give him a hug.
“Not as boring or filthy as mouse skulls!” called his brother.
That didn’t appear to be entirely true. Raven’s shirtfront was smeared with oil and grease.
Charlotte held up a parcel. “I brought a batch of McClellan’s ginger biscuits for refreshments.”
Cordelia waggled her finger as she continued to write. “One moment . . .” The rods clack-clacked through another cycle and then came to rest. The professor read off a final sequence of numbers from a set of ivory wheels.
“Excellent.” Cordelia then looked up. “I’m famished. Biscuits would be very welcome. Let’s also order some tea and take a brief respite from work.”
The boys helped her clear the piles of paper from a round table at the far end of the room, and they all took their seats as one of the kitchen maids carried in a massive tray with the steaming pot and a cold collation of meats, cheese, and bread to supplement the biscuits.
“I’ve a question, Professor,” said Raven after noisily gobbling down several of the sweets.
“Yes?” replied Sudler.
“You’ve mentioned that your Computing Engine will be key in creating tables, but what are tables for?” replied Raven. “And why do you need a machine when you and Lady Cordelia do mathematics so easily in your head?”
A grin quivered on Cordelia’s lips. “I trust you’re ready for a rather long lecture.”
Charlotte had been wondering much the same thing. “I, too, am interested in hearing the explanation.”
In answer, Sudler rose and fetched a book from one of the worktables pushed up against the wall.
With everyone momentarily distracted, Hawk quietly filched a piece of ham from the platter and slid off his seat to join Harper.
Charlotte pretended not to notice.
Clearing his throat, the professor shifted the tray and slapped the book down on the center of the table, then opened it to display two facing pages.
“What do you see?” he asked.
“Numbers,” murmured Charlotte dryly. “A lot of them.”
“It’s atable,” corrected Cordelia. “And while most people haven’t a clue as to the importance of mathematical tables—that is, logarithm tables—without them, a number of our fundamental institutions of society, like finance, insurance, and the military, couldn’t function.”
Raven took a closer look at the pages. “How so?”
“This book is compilation of tables made for banks. They are constantly lending money and must calculate the interest rates over various periods of time,” explained Sudler. “A task made even more complicated when they have to compound the interest. To work out the numbers every time they make a loan would require countless hours of work. So standard tables have been created over the years. Say the interest rate is two percent a year, and a banker is making a loan for five years. Well, he can find the table for two percent . . .” The professor tapped a finger on the table displayed on the open pages. “Then scroll down to find the line showing five years and read off the correct amount of interest to charge his client.”
“The military depends on tables for ballistics. Artillery officers use logarithm tables to calculate the variables for distance and trajectory, which allows them to hit their targets,” added Cordelia. “The country couldn’t finance itself without issuing government bonds. And all those complicated computations couldn’t be done without logarithm tables.”
“But . . .” Raven’s face scrunched in thought. “”But if you already have them, why—”
“Ah! An excellent question, young man!” exclaimed Sudler. “It’s because every printed table I’ve checked is riddled—riddled—with mistakes!”
