Charles Sheffield - The Amazing Dr. Darwin

“But how did you know their feats were not genuine?”

“Colonel, that would lie outside the compass of my beliefs. It is much easier to believe in prestidigitation, in the cunning of hand over eye. I reached that conclusion early but I was faced with one impossible problem. How could a man be here today, and a few hours later be in Inverness? No stage magic or trickery would permit that. Accept that a man cannot be in two places at once and you are driven to a simple conclusion: there must be two men, able to pass as each other. Think of the value of that for impossible stage tricks, and think how practice would perfect the illusion. Two brothers, and Zumal as the link that would travel between them to protect it.”

“But you had no possible proof,” protested Pole. “I mean, a suspicion is one thing, but to jump from that to certainty—”

“Requires only that we use our eyes. You saw Hohenheim at the village. And the next day you saw him again, at the loch. But in the village he favored his left hand, constantly—recall for yourself his passes in the air, and his seizing from nowhere of flasks and potions. Yet at the loch he had suddenly become right-handed , for casting lines, for working the boat, for everything. We were seeing brothers, and like many twins they were one dexter, and one sinister .”

Maclaren was nodding to himself. “I saw it, but I had not the wit to follow it. Now one of them is dead, and the other…”

“Knows a grief that I find hard to imagine. We must seek him now, and try to give him a reason for living. He should not be left alone tonight. With your permission, I will stay here, and when he is brought from the loch I will talk to him—alone.”

“Very well, I will go now and see if they have him safe.” Maclaren walked quietly to the door.

“And here is your proof,” said Darwin. He lifted from the open chest in front of him a long cloak. “See the hidden pockets, and the tube that can be used to carry materials from them to the hands. No supernatural power; only skills of hand, and human greed.”

Maclaren nodded. “I see it. An’ when ye find the reason that makes him want to go on livin’, ye can tell it to me.”

He left, and Jacob Pole looked across at Darwin. “Does he mean that? Why would he think to stop living?”

“He has had a bad shock tonight, but for him I do not worry; Malcolm Maclaren is a brave man, and a strong one. When he recovers from his present sorrow, his life will begin again—better, I trust, than before.”

Pole went across to the empty bed and sat down on it with a groan. “I’ll be glad when tonight is over. I’ve had too much excitement for one day. Let tomorrow come, and I can go to the loch again and seek the real galleon.” His eyes brightened. “If there’s one thing to pull from this sorry mess, perhaps it will still be the bullion.”

Darwin coughed. “I am afraid not. There is no treasure—no galleon, even. It was only a part of the tale that was used to draw us here.”

“What!” Pole lifted his head. “Pox on it, are you telling me that after all our work we came three hundred miles for nothing? That there is no treasure?”

“There is no treasure. But we did not come for nothing.” Now it was Darwin’s eyes that showed a sparkle of excitement. “The Devil is still in the loch. Tomorrow we will go there and learn the true nature of the animal.”

Jacob Pole coughed. “Aye, well, the Devil. You are determined to study it?”

“Indeed I am. For that I would travel far more than three hundred miles.”

“Well, Doctor, that’s something I was going to mention to you. You see, after I fired the cannon—”

He paused. Something in Pole’s look told Darwin that the night’s bad news was not yet complete.

The young man in the expensive topcoat leaned casually against the tavern wall and sipped at a pint of dark ale. He was eavesdropping and trying to disguise the fact, although the three people sitting in the corner were too absorbed in their own conversation to care in the slightest if they were overheard.

They were an ill-assorted trio. The one leaning on the table was well into his sixties, and instead of a wig he wore a round fur hat to cover his domed bald head. Now and again he would illustrate a point he was making with a sharp rap of his nails on the smooth board, or a snap of fingers in the air. His energy and animation of manner suggested a man half his age.

His two companions presented a less attractive prospect. Jacob Pole was in his fifties, thin to the point of being gaunt. His sallow complexion gave him a look of slight but perpetual jaundice. He sat briskly upright, the set of his shoulders marking his long years of military service.

Erasmus Darwin was if anything even less prepossessing. He was in his early forties, but his corpulence, lack of front teeth, and jowly face marked by smallpox conspired to make him look much older. Only the eyes redeemed his coarse appearance. They were grey, patient, and sagacious, and they twinkled with appreciation of the humor of the conversation.

“She’s very intelligent,” the fur-capped man was saying, in an English accent that was hard to place. “Pretty, too. Any man would be proud to be seen with her on his arm. So think about it, Erasmus. You have been a widower too long, maybe it’s time you took another wife.”

“Easy for you to suggest—you are already married, even if your lady is living in another country.” Darwin gestured at a waitress to bring another pot of beef tea and a plate of savories. “Marriage is a large step. Answer me this, Joseph, and Jacob can be a witness. If you were free, would you honestly wish to be bonded to young Mary? I talk not of bedding her, now, I talk of marriage . Think of it, Joseph. Within a month she’d have reorganized your whole life.” The slight stammer in his speech showed that he was enjoying the banter.

“Preserve me from that. I’m on trial now, am I?” The older man glanced from one of his companions to the other. “I rely on you, Erasmus, and on you, Jacob, to let no word of this reach Mary. But at my age, a man is either organized or he will never tolerate organization. And Mary Rawlings is too young for me”—he held up a hand to forestall comment—“too young for me to marry . The years after fifty are like late-season hothouse fruit, their enjoyment must be carefully planned. We have so few of them, and they must rest on a suitable dish .” He pulled out of his waistcoat pocket a curious pair of spectacles that were divided horizontally in each lens, and used them to peer at a tiny fob watch. “No more tea for me. Five minutes, and I must be off. As for Mary, I’m too old and fragile to keep up with her young blood.”

The fat man’s grey eyes took on a new look, and he sat for a moment with his head cocked to one side. “What think you of that, Jacob?”

“You’re the doctor, ’Rasmus, but I’ll do my best.” Jacob Pole peered at the older man as though seeing him for the first time. “For my money, Joseph, I’d say that you appear unnaturally hale, hearty, and energetic.”

“Ah, but neither you nor Dr. Darwin has made an examination of me.” The fur-capped man was grinning. “If you could just see my ruined liver and poor withered body—”

“A competent physician does not need that. The evidence of health is written in your bearing and your countenance.” Darwin swivelled in his chair, so that he could take in the whole room of the tavern. “Look around you, now, and read the Book of Nature. See what is stamped in each face and body. There, by the door, side by side, we at once find goiter and rickets.”