Now came the difficult part.
Darwin walked slowly, chin tucked in low on his chest, hardly aware of the rough shingle beneath his feet. His eyes from time to time sought the sea to his right. Somewhere out there would be a ship, hove to, its crew perplexed. They would wonder, why had the signal light been interrupted? Was it safe to go ashore?
The house rented by Anton Riker was tiny, hardly more than a one-room cottage. There was no sign of the pony and trap in front of its only door. True to his word, Riker had gone to Abbotsbury, a few miles farther along the coast. Darwin could guess what that business was. Riker would soon be as confused as the ship’s crew.
The cottage door was closed. It was hard to see anything through the single grimy window. A flickering light gleamed from within.
Darwin took a deep breath, swung the door open, and passed through in a single movement.
The low-ceilinged room was lit by two tallow candles in stone bowls, one at each end of a table of knotty elm. The Riker calculating engine was on the floor over by the wall, looking exactly as it had in the Newlands’ dining room. A bed stood to the right on one side of the fireplace, and on the other side was a child’s cot.
Food was set out on the table: a leg of cold mutton, a great dish of pickled onions, dark bread and a steaming cauliflower. A quart pewter mug stood by the single plate. Next to that plate sat a man. He had a knife in his hand, and was about to slice mutton from the joint.
The man’s legs dangled from the tall chair, and the crown of his head was no more than twelve inches above the table top.
Darwin nodded to him casually, as though meeting a dwarf late at night was the most normal and pleasant thing in the world.
“Good evening. I was hoping to converse with Professor Riker.”
To anyone less observant, the other’s brief hesitation would have passed unnoticed. “The professor is away on business,” he said. And, when Darwin did not respond, “I am—his manservant. My name is Elie Marйe.”
The dwarf spoke good English, though with a definite Normandy accent. He slid down from the chair, moved away from the table, and bowed to Darwin. Standing, he was at most three and a half feet tall. His arms and legs were short and stubby, but the large head was well formed. Alert brown eyes swept Darwin from head to foot.
Darwin smiled his toothless smile. “I wonder if I might wait here for the professor’s return.”
Again, the pause for thought was scarcely discernible, but Darwin had a sense of rapid evaluation and of a definite choice made.
“Certainly.” Marйe waved to a seat at the other side of the table. “I am about to dine. If you would care to join me…”
“Perhaps a bite or two.” Darwin sat down, picked up a pickled onion, and crunched it with pleasure. He wiped vinegar from his lips with his sleeve. The other man put out two plates, carefully carved mutton, and waited.
“I saw the calculating engine demonstrated earlier this evening.” Darwin nodded to the machine. “It is a wonderful invention.”
“Professor Riker is a man of outstanding talent.”
“I would go beyond that.” Darwin stood up from his chair and walked across to the engine. “This machine displays genius. One might even say it contains genius. Do you know the names of Jedediah Buxton, or George Lambert Walker?”
“They are new to me.”
“They should not be. You have much in common with them. But one thing about this engine puzzles me more than any other.”
“Indeed?” Marйe’s tone was completely neutral, but he had stopped carving. “I am afraid that an explanation must await Professor Riker’s return.”
“I am not sure of that. You see, Monsieur Marйe, my question has nothing to do with the interior workings of the engine. It is something far more mundane.”
The other remained silent.
“It is simply this,” Darwin continued. “When the engine was brought to Newlands, it needed two servants to carry it to and from the carriage. But when Professor Riker left the Solborne house to bring the machine here, he was alone. The professor is not a man of powerful build. I wondered how it was possible for him, single-handed, to unload an engine heavy enough to need the efforts of two strong young men.”
“I helped him.” Marйe was totally still.
“I feel sure that you did. In more ways than one.” Darwin took hold of one corner of the calculating engine and lifted. It raised easily from the floor. “You helped to carry it, but more than that: you diminished its weight, from a hundredweight and more to less than half of that. By the amount, in fact, of your own weight.”
Again, Marйe’s eyes showed that rapid evaluation and decision was going on behind them. The final shrug of his shoulders suggested that he did not care any more. He raised the carving knife, but only to spear slices of mutton and drop them onto the two plates.
“How much do you know—Dr. Darwin? I think you will agree that it gives away nothing to admit that I realize who you are.”
“Nothing at all. One might say, in some sense, we were introduced to each other earlier this evening. Would you do me the honor of showing me the inner working of your invention?—I assume that it is all yours.”
“Totally. Design and fabrication. Anton Riker is a brave man, and a good actor, but nothing more.” Elie Marйe hopped off his chair and went to crouch by the calculating engine. He pressed a concealed stud in the base, and the lower section slid open across its whole length like a drawer. “As you see. The levers here, that can be read off below as they are moved above. The type here, to print answers.”
“Just so. But the provision of those arithmetical answers, Monsieur?”
Marйe did not speak, but tapped his forehead.
Darwin nodded. “As I thought. I did not mention Jedediah Buxton and George Walker for no reason. They, like you, are phenomenal calculators, capable of feats of mentation far beyond most men. Unlike you, they lack the power of original engineering design.” He leaned forward, examining the cavity at the base of the engine. “It is padded, but most cramped. Long hours inside must be uncomfortable.”
“Believe me, Dr. Darwin, I am used to discomfort. The life of a dwarf is not all pleasure.” For the first time, Marйe’s voice betrayed emotion. He gestured to the engine. “Do you wish to see how I lie inside? It is a tight fit—even for a little man.”
“That is not necessary. Come, eat your dinner. You have more than deserved it.”
“I am not sure that I have appetite.” But Marйe closed the drawer and returned to the table. “What now, Dr. Darwin? You know my secret. You can easily expose me, and destroy my livelihood. You will surely not permit our other activities in England to continue. Whatever happens, I have no future.”
Rather than answering at once, Darwin reached for a slice of mutton and began to chew on it moodily.
“There are other mysteries,” he said at last. “It is not my purpose to cause you pain, but I do not understand why you follow such a life. You have great gifts, that is obvious. You have used them, too, but for deception. And you are here, in a foreign land, living with discomfort and uncertainty and danger—for you must know the consequences if your role in assisting a revolt in France were to be discovered. Why not use your powers openly, to do what you do so well?”
Despite his stated lack of interest in food, Elie Marйe had begun to eat. He was picking at the cauliflower, breaking off pieces with his fingers. “What would be easy for another is not easy for me. May I tell a story, Dr. Darwin?”