Philip Kerr - Dark Matter

“If anyone can fathom these mysteries, it is he,” I declared. “Just to be near him is to feel his mind vibrate like a Jew’s trump. But I dare not ask him too much, for he is easily put out of countenance and I become obnoxious to his opinion.”

“So he and I share something in common, do we?” railed my brother.

“As soon as he has arrived at some conclusion himself, I feel he will tell me, for I have his confidence. Yet not before. Omnis in tempore , brother.”

Charles picked up his quill and, holding it over a blank sheet of paper, hesitated to write.

“Well, that’s a pretty report for Mister Lowndes,” he said, and then threw aside the quill. “God’s blood if I can’t think what to write. I could as well describe his damned Principia.” He made a bad-tempered noise. “I looked at it, and could make neither head nor tail of it. It is amazing to me that something so clever can make me feel so stupid. Have you read it?”

“I have tried.”

“I can’t understand how one book can create such a stir when I can find no one who has actually read it.”

“I don’t believe there are a dozen men in all of Europe who could say they understood it,” said I. “But they are such a dozen as might stand head and shoulders above mere mortals. And all of them are agreed it is the most important book that ever was written.”

Charles looked pained, as well he might, for I knew he had even less of a mind for these things than I had myself.

“Of course he’s very clever,” grumbled Charles. “I think we all know that. It says it in his Treasury file. But he’s a strange bird. His devotion to his duty is well known and much admired. But he cares not for praise, I think. Only to be told that he is right. Which he already knows well enough by himself. And which makes him a damned awkward customer to employ in Government. He is too independent.”

“He is a strange bird, it is true,” said I. “But one that flies so high that it all but disappears from the sight of ordinary men. I think he is an eagle that soars up to the very limits of our world and perhaps beyond, to the moon and stars, to the very sun itself. I never knew his like. No man ever did.”

“S’blood, Kit, you make him sound like one of the Immortals.”

“It is certain that his name and reputation shall evermore endure.”

“Would that reputation was so durable,” said Charles. “God’s sores, if he is so certain of posterity, then I do wonder how it is that he needs people like me to warn him that the world is thickly stocked with his enemies. For there are those who would wish that the Warden could be less diligent in the pursuit of his duties. Certain Tory gentlemen who would like to see him removed from office and who search for some evidence of his malpractice.”

“Then why did they appoint him? He himself asked for his forensic duties to be given to the Solicitor General, did he not?”

“There were some who thought that a man who had spent twenty-five years hidden away at Trinity would know little of the world. And would make a most pliable Warden. Which is why they agreed to his appointment. Do not mistake me in this, brother. I am on his side. But there are others who would find some corruption against him. Even if none were there, if you see what I mean.”

“Faith, he’s the least corrupt man I ever met,” said I.

“If not his corruption,” continued Charles, “then perhaps his deviation from what is considered orthodox. I hope you perceive my meaning here.”

At this I stayed silent for a while, long enough to find my brother nodding at me as if he had found Newton out. “Yes,” he said. “I thought that might quieten you, brother. Your master is suspected of holding certain dissenting opinions, to put it mildly. And there are others who are inclined not to put it mildly. Tongues have wagged. The word ‘heresy’ has been mentioned. And he’ll be dismissed if it be proved against him.”

“This is idle gossip.”

“Aye, gossip. But when in this world did gossip ever go ignored? Listen closely, Kit. For this was the main purpose of my asking you here today. That you might gently warn your master to be much on his guard and prepared for the moment when his enemies shall move against him. As they certainly shall, before long.”

All of which I did relate to Newton when I did see him in our office back at the Mint.

“I have suspected as much for some time now,” admitted Newton. “Nevertheless I am greatly indebted to your brother. To be warned thus is to be forearmed. However, I must conclude that no concrete thing has yet been found against me, but only a heap of froth and mischief.”

“What will you do?” I asked.

“Why, nothing,” exclaimed Newton. “Except my duty. You too. We must put it away from our minds. Do you agree?”

“If you wish it.”

“I do, most heartily.” He paused and, collecting the cat Melchior from the floor, set about stroking his fur like a feeder from the Shake-bag Club smoothing the goose-green plumage of his champion cock. I thought to leave him awhile alone with his thoughts, but then he said:

“This Major Mornay. We must look closely at him, as through a prism, and see if he be refrangible or no.”

“You have the advantage of me, Doctor,” I told him. “For I confess I know not what you mean by that word.”

“What?” exclaimed Newton. “Is it possible that you are ignorant of my experimentum cruets?”

I confirmed that I was, and so we went to my house, where Newton searched in an old brass-bound chest from which he fetched a prism of his own manufacture and showed me how the ordinary daylight was a complex mixture of colours, and how, by holding a second prism within the spectrum he had made with the first, colours could be diverted or deflected from their previous course, like streams of water. This diversion Newton called refraction , and the property of refraction he called refrangibility. All prismatical colours were immutable and could not be altered by projecting upon them other colours.

“Thus you may perceive a very useful object lesson for those of us whose occupation it is to discover matters artfully or criminally concealed: that all is never as it seems; and that purity is sometimes an illusion.”

Newton allowed me to hold the second prism and to divert the colours in various directions to my heart’s content.

“It may be that Major Mornay can be similarly refracted from his normal course,” I suggested, understanding his original meaning. “But what shall we use for a prism?”

“Something broad,” mused Newton. “Something strong and pure. Yes, I do believe I have just the instrument we need. You, my dear fellow. You shall be our prism.”

“Me? But how?”

“Has Major Mornay ever noticed that he has been followed?”

“Never. He does not seem to be a particularly observant man.”

“Then you must help him. Let the Major see that he is followed and then observe how he is refracted. Will he go away from Lord Ashley’s house without going in? Will he remonstrate with you? Whom will he tell that he is being followed? And what will happen then? It may prove to be a tedious and dangerous task to do as it ought to be done, but I cannot be satisfied till we have gone through with it.”

“I am not afraid,” said I. “I shall carry both my pistols and my sword.”

“That is the spirit,” urged Newton, and clapped me on the shoulder. “If he asks why you are following him, say that you are not. It will only serve to divert him yet further. But be careful not to fight with him, though. If you kill him we shall learn nothing.”

“And if he kills me?”

“For Miss Barton’s sake, please don’t be killed, Ellis. She would hold me responsible and I should never hear the end of it. Therefore I say to you, if you pity me, Ellis, then keep yourself safe.”