Ghosts by Gaslight - Jack Dann [113]
The third room was different again, with rows of metal frames and open cabinets, containing an apparatus of glass, brass, and copper. This room was better lit, not only by overhead lightbulbs, but also by the glowing of the apparatus itself. Tubes, domes, and spirals of glass shimmered with an uncanny yellowish light. Some were half filled with a glutinous-looking jelly; others held coils of silvery metal; others again enclosed tiny plates or leaves of gold foil that fluttered as I watched. Compared to the industrial ugliness of the first room, this was like a laboratory—intriguing and enchanting.
Two men were busy at the back of the room. They wore blue overalls and looked like engineers or workmen. Whatever they were doing, they glanced constantly over their shoulders as if uneasy. Sometimes they glanced towards the next side wall, which drew my attention too. No holes had been knocked through the material of this wall, which was solid wood rather than brick. Evidently, there was no connected machinery on the other side.
Once more I moved along in the space behind the trees, once more I knelt—and found myself looking down into Dr. Kessel’s study. In spite of the unfamiliar angle, I recognised the bookshelves, the leather armchairs, and the gleaming bald skull of the doctor himself. Even at this late hour, he was up and about—and he wasn’t alone.
The person with him was a third man in blue overalls. While Dr. Kessel paced back and forth on the carpet, the man stood with cap in hand, respectful yet frowning.
“Do I not pay enough?” Dr. Kessel was saying.
“ ’Tis nae about the money.” The man’s voice had a thick Scottish burr. “ ’Tis our safety, sir.”
Their words reached my ears only because the window was open half an inch at the bottom. I lowered my head, almost touching the ground, to gain a better hearing.
“Phah!” scoffed Dr. Kessel. “That is a complete nonsense, Norris.”
“Nae, sir. The men are with me on this.”
“Where is it not safe? Tell me. Which part of the mechanism?”
“ ’Tis in every room. We canna tell until it happens. I told ye this a week ago, sir.”
“You told me nothing about haunting.”
“Nae, sir. But so the men call it.”
“What do you call it?”
Norris avoided a direct answer. “The metal bends and rivets come poppin’ out. I’ve nae seen the like. Good strong rivets, without cause or reason. Last night, boiler number two popped a score of rivets on the main pipe. If we hadna found and fixed it . . .”
“Old machinery. It wears out.”
“Aye, because ye keep it workin’ day and night. Ye must shut it down and rebuild it.”
“I will not shut it down.”
“Damp down the boilers, turn off the generators . . .”
“No, I’m telling you. I cannot shut it down.”
“Dr. Kessel, I’ve worked wi’ machines since I was a wee bairn. Ye think I’m only an engineer, but—”
“That’s right, only an engineer. Not a scientist. You do not understand the importance of this work. This is the science of the brain, and we advance the science by a hundred years. It will be a great service to humanity when my mechanism is perfected.”
Norris thrust out his jaw. “I canna tell about the science of the brain, but I know when there’s summat amiss wi’ a machine. Ye keep fixin’ and fiddlin’, but ye willna fix what was wrong from the start. The design was never thought out right.”
“The design, is it?” Dr. Kessel sneered. “Or is it ghosts? Or perhaps some of your wee Scottish pixies?”
Norris held his ground. “Mebbe,” he said.
Dr. Kessel stopped his pacing. “I shall increase the wages.”
“ ’Tis nae about the money.” Norris chewed at his lower lip. “How much more?”
“One shilling a week.” Dr. Kessel studied the other man. “Two shillings.” Still no response from Norris. Dr. Kessel flung out his arms. “Four shillings more.”
“Aye, ye can find the money when ye need it.”
Norris had changed his tone. Seemingly, it was about the money after all. Dr. Kessel