THE MEMORY
It was a clear and concise memory. In light of Aida Rakes’s and Uday Bal’s recent revelations, an incident that had once seemed barely significant now carried a more chilling implication.
It had rained all morning, that cold Friday in February. A torrent of icy rain pelted down relentlessly, rattling the bookshop windows, flooding the gutters in the street outside and turning the cul-de-sac into a grimy river. And so it was of no particular surprise that at five o’clock most of the apprentices were still at the agency, either taking their time to complete their duties, or lounging over a game of cards. Anything to delay their journeys home until the weather improved.
But for Marion, who’d been stationed in the Gadgetry Department that afternoon, delaying the daily rush home had nothing to do with the weather. Through trial and error, she’d discovered the trick was simply to appear busy. Every afternoon without exception, she’d hang around the agency, offering her assistance wherever it was needed for as long as reasonably possible.
Fortunately, that Friday, despite the relative calm throughout the rest of the agency, the apprentices stationed in Gadgetry were burdened with such a plethora of tasks that by lunchtime, Marion didn’t have to offer extra help; Professor Bal had begged for it.
Marion’s task was relatively simple—place five test wires on the workbench in front of her, turn them on, say something, then retrieve the recording for analysis. Perfectly easy, except for the fact that Professor Bal had forgotten where he’d left the defective batch of button microphones and Marion had therefore spent the first half of the afternoon scouring the Gadgetry Department for twelve wonderfully undetectable tiny black discs.
Then she was set the chore of cleaning and refilling Professor Bal’s ever-increasing stock of halothane-emitting hip flasks. This was fiddly, tedious work—five small mesh-covered halothane-filled balls having to be cleaned, then squeezed through the hip flask’s narrow aperture, which almost always resulted in an accidental rupture or two and thus a swift trip to the infirmary for all those close enough to inhale the gas.
At six thirty that evening, after depositing the last flask, filled and ready for use, on Professor Bal’s workbench, Marion left the department and made her way up to the cafeteria. She’d planned to slip in an early dinner before the inevitable return to Number Sixteen Willow Street. Dolores would surely be waiting for her, probably with a pot of cold vegetable stew and a list of questions related to her lateness. She wouldn’t have to eat the stew at least.
Her evening would take a strange turn, however, for on her way to the cafeteria Marion was forced to take a detour.
The shortest route from Gadgetry went past Mr. Nicholas’s office, merging with the corridor that ran past the main library entrance and eventually down toward the cafeteria.
But as Marion neared the bend in the corridor outside Nicholas’s office, she heard something that made her pause. At first it sounded like an argument between Frank and Nancy. She couldn’t see them, as they were standing just on the other side of the bend, but recognized their voices.
“...you can hardly blame the boy,” said Frank. “He’s only—”
“I don’t care what he is, Frank,” Nancy said. “And your sympathy for his situation changes nothing. What was he doing there out of office hours? And what was he doing with a Skeleton Key?” She paused. There was the sound of shuffling feet, then nothing.
Frank sighed. “You can’t fire him. Please, Nancy. I’m sure Rupert has the situation under control, and if not, I will speak to him myself.”
Marion heard the sound of Nicholas’s office door swing open and two sets of boots rush out. She took a step forward and peered around the corner.
Mr. Nicholas, Nancy and Frank were standing cross-armed in front of David Eston, who looked furious.
Nicholas smiled wearingly. “Not to worry,” he said, rather out of breath, “everything is well and sorted. I was just assuring Mr. Eston that he will soon come to realize everything we’ve done has been in the best interest of...well, everyone. Now, have you two come to a decision?”
Nancy looked sternly in Frank’s direction. There was a long hesitation and eventually she spoke. “Yes. I have decided to take Mr. Stone’s advice in the matter. You may remain at Miss Brickett’s, Mr. Eston, so long as you assure us that we will not have a repeat of this situation.”
David’s cold expression did not change.
“An assurance is needed, Mr. Eston,” Nancy repeated, holding out a sheet of paper.
David didn’t take it from her. “What’s that supposed to be?”
“The assurance, in writing. You will not go down there or anywhere near the Gadgetry Department out of office hours or unaccompanied. Sign it,” Nancy demanded.
David sneered. “You can’t be serious?”
“I will explain this to you one last time, Mr. Eston.” Nancy had turned on her coldest, most severe voice, one she reserved for occasions such as this. As she spoke, her words were clear and sharp, so much so that even David, even then in his most brutish state, did not dare interrupt. “I have run this agency for ten years on inflexible principles, implemented to protect all those for whom I am responsible. You were not forced to join us, and you are free to leave should you wish to do so. But as long as you are under my care, so long as you work within these walls, you will abide by each and every policy and regulation I have put in place. Or you will suffer the consequences without question. Now, sign it.”
It must have been at least five minutes that David stood there, staring at the document in Nancy’s hand. Nobody spoke, nobody even seemed to breathe. Eventually and with great hostility, David received the piece of paper (and a pen swiftly provided by Nicholas) and scratched a signature at the bottom.
The party began to disperse and Marion to panic. She could not risk being seen, as it would have been quite plain that she’d been eavesdropping. Fortunately, and just in time, she noticed a crevice in the wall behind where she was standing. She dashed toward it and wedged herself into the tight space. As she edged farther inside she realized that the space was larger than she’d expected—a decent-size oblong room whose north-facing wall was also the outer boundary of Nicholas’s office.
She waited in the darkness and quiet until certain the party outside was long gone. The incident she’d inadvertently witnessed had left her uneasy, though David was just the sort of person she’d expect to end up in Nicholas’s office within the first two months of his apprenticeship. He’d obviously been found trying to steal something from the Gadgetry Department, and had been rightfully threatened with dismissal should he be caught doing so again. She didn’t spend any time theorizing what he’d been attempting to steal, or why he seemed so reluctant to sign Nancy’s document.
She heard a shuffle of movement behind her, from farther within the crevice. She turned around to find Michelle White standing in the shadows.
Michelle smiled curiously as they locked eyes. “I see...” she said softly, taking a step forward.
Marion froze. She’d been so sure the crevice was empty. “Miss White, I was just—”
Michelle nodded knowingly. “Don’t worry, my dear, a little eavesdropping never harmed anyone.” She looked down at the leather handbag hanging over her shoulder. And there, poking out from the center compartment, as if rapidly shoved inside, was her trusty Herald Stethoscope. Michelle caressed the exposed end of the stethoscope as if it were a beloved pet, then marched off, her stride confident, triumphant even. There was no doubt in Marion’s mind, Miss White was very happy with what she’d just overheard.