“Thank you.” Pudge offered a shy smile. “Reading is my favorite. They have so many books here, and they let us read them.”
“I like reading, too,” Amelia confided. “Though I like chemistry nearly as much.”
Each student took a spoonful of the foam and placed it on a sheet of paper. It soon dried, leaving red, round circles on the page, which would serve as a keepsake of the experiment for them. Once the foam had been cleared away by her ever helpful Aunt Margaret, she provided instructions for the second experiment, one step at a time, watching closely to be sure they understood.
Though this one wasn’t quite as exciting, the children still appeared intrigued by the steps of weighing the items and stirring the liquid into the beakers as Fernsby assisted the smallest child with the scales. While Amelia explained the danger of mixing certain chemicals together, she couldn’t help but think of the person behind the bombs.
What went through their minds while they worked?
She nearly shuddered at the thought. How she hoped Henry would find those involved before they struck again.
Twenty-Four
Overthesubsequenthour,Henry and Fletcher questioned more than a half dozen workers about the toppled barrels, but gained nothing more than angry glares and shaking heads. No one had seen anything, heard anything, or suspected anyone, which was rather difficult to believe. But no one had been hurt, and for that, Henry was grateful.
With no answers readily available, they returned to the machinery crates.
“Do we open a few?” Fletcher asked, doubt coloring his tone.
“Not without a better reason than the one we have.” The supposed tip from a barman at an unsavory local pub wasn’t enough. “Let’s note the name of the company they’re being shipped to and we’ll pay them a visit tomorrow. The crates should be delivered by then.”
The lead was pitiful, but more than they’d had previously.
Henry didn’t take out his notebook, not wanting to draw additional notice to what they were doing. Instead he memorized the information, then pretended to study other crates and barrels as well.
If anyone was watching, they shouldn’t know which items the police were interested in. At least, that was his hope.
Henry sighed. “I think our work here is done. Let’s venture to Whitechapel and see if there’s any sign of Marcus before we return to the Yard. We can review our plan for the visit to the sanatorium on the way.”
Once again they hailed a hansom cab, Henry preferring to save his waning energy for actual work rather than walking. His ribs ached, and a tightness across his forehead suggested his headache would soon be returning.
“Regarding the sanatorium—it’s got to be about the money, don’t you think?” Fletcher asked as the cab rolled forward. “Maybe they only select a certain type of patient to steal from.”
Henry considered the idea. “That could be the case. Perhaps those without a close family would have fewer questions asked.”
“Right. And since it requires a significant sum to stay at the place, that meansanywho enter would have enough funds to tempt the doctor, or whoever is behind this.”
“The key is for them not to become too greedy,” Henry mused. “After all, many of the patients are already ill and desperate when they enter, some with serious diseases who choose the sanatorium’s methods as a last resort.”
“Hmmm. Seems it would be smarter if they simply increased their fees.”
“They probably have, now that they’ve become so popular. Yet we can’t discount the fact that some patients have seen success from their treatments.” It was most irritating and made proving the scheme even harder.
“I suspect some would’ve shown improvement with or without the treatments,” Fletcher suggested.
“Yes, and the power of the mind can’t be discounted.” At his friend’s skeptical look, Henry shrugged. “If I told you something will cure you and you believed it, in many cases, it would work.”
“Humph. Hard to fathom.”
It didn’t make much sense to him either, but he’d seen it work. “At any rate, I think we follow the trail of money and see where it leads. Dr. Thorne is the most obvious suspect, but other staff members could be involved.”
Fletcher sighed as they halted a couple of streets from Whitechapel, the closest any cab driver was willing to go, given the rough neighborhood. “Why is it that naught but greed drives so many to break the law?”
Henry smiled and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “If you had the answer, we could fix many problems in this world.”
“Instead we must settle for punishing those who press too far.”
“And protect the public in the process,” Henry reminded him. “It helps to remember that.”
