Arcadia Snips and the Steamwork Consortium Part 27

Rather than back down, William roused himself up and slapped his palms on the table right in front of Snips'. "The same thing you were thinking, Miss Snips. I wanted to help."

"And all you managed to do was nearly get me shot," Snips fired back.

William stiffened at that; something about the mathematician seemed to change. Rather than reply, he reached for his hat and umbrella, donning both as he walked off the deck.

Rather than feeling triumphant, Snips deflated to her chair.

She watched as William left, then stewed over the remains of his breakfast.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l's bells," she said, sinking her head into her hands.

It was not long before Miss Primrose emerged from the house to join Snips, looking about for William.

"Where did Mr. Daffodil go?" she said.

"Away," Snips said, huffing out a sigh. "Miss Primrose, can I ask you something?"

"Hm?"

"What do you know about men?"

"Only that they are monstrous and inscrutable creatures, best avoided at every opportunity," Miss Primrose said.

"I see," Snips said.

Miss Primrose paused, glancing back over her shoulder towards the distant figure of Jacob Watts. He had extended both of his hands, and was sporting a legion of pigeons on either arm; he seemed to be lecturing them all on the proper conduct of an officer.

"Actually," she said, "I am being somewhat unfair."

"Eh?"

"Mr. Watts has always been especially kind, if not necessarily sane," Miss Primrose said. "He took me in and sheltered me when there was absolutely no need to do so, and has always sought to do right for me. In fact, beyond his penchant for madness, I have yet to see a negative quality manifested in the man," she added, before looking back to Snips. "Kind-hearted people are difficult to find. But they do exist."

Snips sat up. "Hm," she said, thinking.

"So," Miss Primrose said, changing the subject. "What do we do now? The case is closed, our primary suspect is no longer one, and our only lead is an odd sort of gentleman's club."

"Now? Now, we solve the case," Snips said, and then she stood. "But first, I've got to go try something different."

"Something different, Miss Snips?"

"Telling the truth," Snips said, walking on after William.

She hadn't gotten three steps before Miss Primrose cleared her throat. "You might consider attempting to tell the truth in something other than a night gown."

"Oh," Snips said, suddenly looking down at herself.

"Right."

CHAPTER 27: IN WHICH OUR t.i.tULAR PROTAGONIST IS ACCUSED OF A CRIME, A BOMB IS DETONATED, AND THE MATTER OF MR. COPPER'S MURDER IS AT LAST ADDRESSED.

Shortly after stepping into the belly of the Steamwork, Snips was seized by several officers dressed in crisp, black uniforms.

"This is nonsense," Snips said. "I wasn't-"

William poked his head out of his workshop, peering across the catwalk. Snips was there, struggling between two of the uniformed men; Mr. McGee and several other police officers were present. Dunnigan didn't look very happy, and Snips was furious.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about!"

Snips said.

"She was here, last night," Dunnigan said. "Snuck in-I didn't think she'd actually hurt him, officers," the janitor said, shaking his head and looking to the ground. "I thought she was, y'know, just carryin' out a right and proper investigation-"

"There is no official investigation into the Steamwork," one of the officers said.

William climbed up out of the calculation engine, making his way to the platform. As soon as he landed, Snips recognized him; her face brightened. "William!" She said. "Tell these buffoons to unhand me-"

"What on earth is going on?" William asked, trying to look as stern and authoritative as he could manage. It was a rough fit, but the officers seemed to be convinced.

"Mr. Eddington," Dunnigan said, turning around to face William. "They found him, last night. Sorry t'be the bearer of bad news, Mr. Daffodil, but he was murdered."

"Murdered?" William said. "By whom? For what reason?"

"Miss Snips was the last t'see him," Dunnigan said. "Broke in here last night."

"Miss Snips was with me last night," William said, but then he paused. He hadn't known where Snips was before then; could she have broken into the Steamwork? "Besides, why would she kill Mr. Eddington?"

"We intend to find out," one officer said. "Now, if you'll pardon us, we need to take her back to Count Orwick's train-"

"Susan? You're taking me to Susan?" Snips asked. "Why didn't you say so? He'll clear this up in a jiffy."

"I doubt it," another officer said. "Seeing how his a.s.sistant's the one who issued the arrest warrant."

Snips blanched, turning to William. "William, listen-"

William frowned. "Did you break in the Steamwork, Miss Snips?"

"Yes, yes," Snips said, as if that detail was trivial. "Listen, I came here to tell you-"

"Did you kill Mr. Eddington?"

No sooner had the words left William's lips than did he regret them. Though he asked the question softly, its force was sufficient to flatten Snips' will. At first, she stiffened with shock.

Then her expression faded to one of muted surrender. She sagged between the two officers, becoming no more than dead weight in their hands.

"No," she said at last. "I didn't."

"I'll fetch Miss Primrose," William said, but Snips shook her head.

"Don't bother," she said, something hard slipping into her voice. "I can handle this myself."

William watched helplessly as they took her away, unsure of what to do.

Mr. Peabody brought over a flask of sherry and two gla.s.ses on a silver tray. The Count gestured for the tray to be put on the lacquered table beside him; he absently poured himself and Mr. Peabody a pair of gla.s.ses.

"The matter of this investigation has been troubling me,"

Orwick said.

"How so, sir?"

"The suddenness of pressure from Parliament and several others to close the case-I am still unaware from what quarter these pressures originated. There must be another player, one who I am not yet aware of," Orwick said. "Someone with considerable clout who could convince several officials in power to oppose me."

"Perhaps they merely opposed the Steamwork's investigation on ideological grounds, sir."

Orwick snorted, sipping from his gla.s.s. "Only the young oppose something on ideological grounds, Mr. Peabody. The experienced know better. No, this is the result of some connection I had not foreseen-some link that I am blind to."

"Perhaps Miss Snips, sir?"

"Perhaps," Orwick agreed, taking another sip of sherry. "I had thought I had investigated her thoroughly, but perhaps I have yet to discover the whole picture. I-hn."

"Is something wrong, sir?"

"Quite curious," Orwick said, glancing down at the empty gla.s.s. "I am not usually this talkative. And I often have no difficulty feeling my legs," he added, glancing down at his own feet. Suddenly, he found himself slipping to the floor, clambering for a grip on his way down. "I-hn. I think I require a bit of a.s.sistance, Mr. Peabody," Orwick said, voice wavering. He looked up and was quite surprised to see his a.s.sistant stepping forward, donning what seemed to be the mask of a jackal.

"Having a bit of trouble, sir?" Mr. Peabody said, his voice smothered into a metallic hum. "Need a bit of help, sir? Is there something I can get you? Hm? Perhaps a clue?" He crouched besides Orwick.

"You," Orwick said, his voice dropping off into a whisper.

"Poison."

"Oh, quite clever. Did you just figure that out? Very good, sir," Mr. Peabody said.

"Why," Orwick groaned.

"Because the system you have maintained for so long with your clever bag of tricks is a system doomed to failure, Count Orwick. Because, rather than evolve, it is sometimes better for creatures such as yourself to go extinct. And because in an era such as ours, one must occasionally play the villain to remain a gentleman."

Orwick licked his lips. "Who?" he croaked.

"Who do you think? I have served you faithfully for years -and yet all this time I have been in the service of another. Who can inspire that sort of dedication, that level of loyalty? Who possesses that much foresight? Who else but the Society's true master, Orwick?" Mr. Peabody lowered his face down to the Count's ear.

"Who else but Hemlock?"

Orwick groaned. Mr. Peabody straightened his coat, stood up, and left the Count to die.

Left confused and perplexed, William returned to the only thing that ever made sense-his work. He was buried elbow deep in purring machinery; a labyrinth of gears and cogs surrounded him on all sides. He sat in a well-cushioned chair that swiveled with his every move, a bra.s.s periscope neatly fitted over his eyes.

Every so often, he violently heaved his body to the left or right- twisting the entirety of the wheelhouse's clockwork innards with him, swiveling around with the grace of a suspended gyroscope.

His fists were clenched around a set of levers, squeezing and tugging them intermittently.

The entire contraption was suspended within the heart of the calculation engine, and served as a way to directly manipulate and observe the furious mathematics that rumbled within it.

William had been running the machine and observing its various results by hand; when he at last completed the final calculations, there was a terrible sound.

The engine snarled as gears grinded backwards. Sparks flew; belts snapped. A cog broke free with a metal tw.a.n.g, flying over another engineer's head and smashing into a wall. Daffodil seized the panic switch and threw it, bringing the entire machine to a growling halt.

William blinked owlishly, tugging his goggles down around his neck. He searched the dozen or more dials that lay in front of him-moments ago, they had been purring with calculations, displaying an array of values; now all of them had reset back to zero.

"My G.o.d," he whispered.

"Mr. Daffodil!" A female's voice called for him over the din of noise. Briefly, he thought it was Snips; he found himself popping out of the wheelhouse with a speed that surprised even himself. When he saw it was Miss Primrose, he was somewhat crestfallen.

"Oh, hullo," he said. "Ah, oh, yes-I was going to go fetch you." William added. "Miss Snips has been arrested. Mr. Eddington was killed last night."

"He-he was?" Miss Primrose grew pale. "You don't think -"

"No," William said, and he felt a pang of regret spear through him. Though Snips was certainly stubborn, she was far from a cold-blooded killer. "No, I think that something else is afoot. But we have another concern. I have made a terrible discovery."

"More terrible than the recent discovery of your employer's demise?"

"The engine," William said. "My calculation engine. It just divided by zero."

Miss Primrose gave him a blank stare. William sighed.

"We've completed entering all the data from all the banks in Aberwick into the engine from a few days prior," William explained. "We don't have all the information in it yet, but we have enough for a dry run, so I ran all of the calculations through it-to the end of today's business hours. And it divided by zero. Every account," he added. "At every bank."

"I do not understand. What is the significance?"

"If these calculations are correct, every bank engine in Aberwick except for this one is due to fail today at the close of business," William said. "All of them are going to divide by zero.

All of them are carrying mathematical time-bombs, set to go off today."