Alden woke up feeling much recovered from the effects of the toxin. While it had certainly been an effective addition to his disguise, he was in no hurry to repeat the experiment. As he got dressed and broke his fast, he quite firmly decided that affecting the appearance and mannerisms of an old man should be considered very much a last resort. It really had been a most unpleasant poison. As he stepped into the workshop he was briefly surprised to find Miss Oxley was simply working in the stockroom rather than preparing to open shop, and it took him a moment of thought to realize it was market day. In all the hustle and bustle of the past few days, he had completely lost track of the days of the week. This was rather unlike him, but then again, the past while felt like an eternity and an absolute blur all at once. What had he even been doing last market day? Something to do with this investigation, surely, but he couldn’t recall what. Eight days ago might as well be forever, the way things were going. Still, he greeted Miss Oxley and Mr. Dawkins politely. As tradition dictated, they would be getting a half-day off work, ostensibly to visit the markets and attend whatever religious ceremonies might be appropriate, though these days young people generally spent their market days on whatever leisure activities might catch their fancy. The pubs certainly always did brisk trade on market day afternoons. Alden typically spent market days catching up on work and making sure everything at the shop was in order for next week’s business, but he quickly found that Mr. Dawkins’ exemplary work left very little for him to attend to. Last week he had been thoroughly occupied by matters related to his investigation, but there were no specific leads for him to follow right at this moment. Mei Jing’s little network had yet to report back to him, the poison was still being researched by Lucille’s associates, and he wanted to give it a bit more time before he took the next step in his investigation of the Sunshine Club. He briefly toyed with the notion of going to temple. Market days were Saturn’s days, after all. But he hadn’t attended a market day sermon since he went to study at the Institute, and for some reason the notion of going back to it after all these years felt supremely awkward. Fortunately, he was pulled from his uncomfortable religious musings by the arrival of a messenger. The boy’s missive was quick and simple. Ada Waller wanted to see him at Corner House. Having nothing better to do with his time at the moment, Alden decided to leave at once. Arriving at Corner house, he found it absolutely abuzz with activity. Juliet Baines was clearly very serious about making sure the house would be ready to entertain guests in short order, and a much-increased staff was currently in the rather chaotic process of moving in and familiarizing themselves with their new household and duties. Fortunately, they had all clearly been informed to let Alden come and go as he pleased, so he had no trouble arranging a meeting with Ada Waller. The young woman seemed very excited about something, but she wouldn’t say much beyond telling Alden to follow her down into the laboratory. Alden could only assume it had to do with the task he had set her on when they last met, but he hadn’t expected Ada to be quite this enthusiastic about it. She was practically shaking with excitement as they laboriously made their way through the series of locked doors leading into the laboratory. The very moment she had closed the final door behind them, she simply couldn’t contain her enthusiasm any longer. “I figured it out, sir! I figured out how to get to the moon!” Alden looked up sharply in surprise. “How did you know this was about getting to the moon?” “What else could it be, if it’s that big and that close to the Earth and all moving around all the time?” “…You really are very clever, Ada. Well, what did you figure out?” “It’s all in here, come and see!” She brought him over to a table absolutely covered in neat stacks of papers covered in endless arrays of numbers, all neatly printed out by the analytical engine. Alden recognized some patterns from his last foray into the late Dr. Rawleigh’s work, but he didn’t have a clue what it all meant. “What am I looking at here, Ada?” “Well, sir, I started by looking into what negative mass would get you to the moon but hit it all gentle like, but nothing worked. It’s ‘cos of the moon’s moving and the earth is spinning and all, sir. You’d either not hit it at all or slam into it so hard it would all smash you up, sir.” “A dead end, then?” “No sir! It just means you need to be able to steer and brake, sir!” Alden frowned. “How do you steer and brake out in the aether beyond the atmosphere? Sails won’t do it because there’s no air.” “You push, sir.” “Against what?” “Against yourself.” Alden gave Ada a perplexed look, but the young woman practically radiated triumphant excitement. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me, Ada.” “Well, sir, do you know how fireworks go up in the sky?” “Not really. I know there’s black powder in them, so I sort of assumed they exploded themselves upwards somehow.” “In a way, sir. Black powder burns very very fast, sir, and when it does it goes from being a really small solid thing to being a much bigger gassy thing. So all that gas pushes in every direction. But there’s only a hole in one direction. So when it pushes down, it pushes against what’s below it, but when it pushes up, it pushes against the firework, and the firework moves up.” “But out in the aether, there won’t be anything to push ‘down’ against.” “Don’t need to be, Sir. As long as it pushes against a thing in one direction and don’t push against that thing in the opposite direction, the thing will move.” “Still, I’m not sure I’d be comfortable hurtling through the aether in a sealed craft that’s steered by setting off explosives.” “Wouldn’t really need to be explosives, sir. Anything that gets you enough push should do it. Like if you had a steam tank that opened up to the outside of the craft, sir. But I think black powder would be easier.” “How do you know all this, Ada?” “Dr. Rawleigh told me about it. When he was teaching me about numbers. Told me about Sir Isaac Newton and about how when you push against a thing, that thing also pushes against you.” “Dr. Rawleigh taught you a lot, didn’t he?” “Yessir. I think he liked talking to someone about numbers. He never told me what he was working on, but he taught me all kinds of things to help me understand different numbers and calculations, sir. Sometimes he taught me more than he meant to, I think. He muttered sometimes, when he was thinking really hard about things. Didn’t take much notice if I was there or not when he did.” Alden gave the young woman a long, searching look. “You miss him a lot, don’t you?” Ada’s eyes grew slightly moist. “I do, sir. He was always good to me. I lost my da real early, and when my mam passed as well, I didn’t really have no-one but Dr. Rawleigh, sir.” Alden looked over at the huge stack of papers. With a determined nod, he grabbed some fresh sheets and a pen and inkwell. Sitting down, he cracked his knuckles and took up the pen. “Well, then. Let’s make sure Dr. Rawleigh’s work hasn’t been in vain. I want you to explain your work in as much detail as you can so I can write it down, and then we’ll go through the results sheets you think are most promising so I can annotate them and add commentary and explanations. Let’s get this all written up in a way that can be put to use.” Ada smiled, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “Yessir!” Alden sighed as he tried to work out the knots in his shoulder and back. Outside the windows, the crowded streets passed him by. Every so often, the passage of a tram made the horse a little skittish, causing the cab to jostle a little. It had taken him hours to work Ada’s numerical genius into something legible to normal people, and the results of that labour was now safely tucked away inside a leather case that once belonged to the late Dr. Rawleigh. The case was, all at once, both a necessity and a problem. He had needed something secure to store and carry the thick bundle of papers that contained the fruits of Ada’s continuation of Dr. Rawleigh’s research. The bundle was far too thick to stash away inside his jacket, and he wanted to keep it somewhere waterproof since rain was a constant threat on an autumn day in London. However, bringing a fancy leather carry case with gilded detailing on the tram was practically daring all sorts of opportunistic thieves and scofflaws to try their luck. And so he was sitting in a cab, making his way to the Baines residence. He had sent word to Lucille asking for a meeting early on in the process of turning Ada’s work into something useable, and when he got a reply with a time set for a meeting, he had quickly realized he needed to work a lot faster. Hence his aching shoulder. Alden did a fair amount of writing, but never before had he written so much in such a short time. When the cab arrived at its destination, Alden tossed the cabbie a small gratuity and hurried across the street to the door of the Baines residence. Giving the knocker a few sharp raps, he was again greeted by the same old servant as before, and the woman quickly showed him up to Lucille’s office. Lucille, again dressed in the old tweed suit she apparently wore for office work, flashed him a welcoming smile as he entered. “Alden! So good to see you. I was very surprised to receive your missive. You said you had something important to discuss regarding the late Dr. Rawleigh’s research?” “Very much so. The continuation of it, to be exact.” He pulled the bundle of papers out of the case and handed it to Lucille, who took the hefty bundle with a raised eyebrow. “There’s enough here to fill out a large book. What is this?” “Most of it is just annotated numerical information. Give it a read.” With a nod, Lucille started reading through the papers. And the further along she got, the more surprised she seemed. By the time she got through the written portion and started skimming the numerical information, she had a look of near disbelief. “Alden, this is… This is brilliant! Did you do this?” Alden scoffed. “Hardly. I barely even understood some of it well enough to write down a coherent explanation of it. This is the work of one miss Ada Waller.” It clearly took Lucille a moment to place the name, and when she finally remembered, she gave Alden a very dry look. “Dr. Rawleigh’s illiterate maid? Be serious, Alden.” “I am being completely serious. Ada’s illiteracy is entirely a religious matter, courtesy of her mother’s unusual beliefs, and has no bearing on her competence or intellect. Ada is an absolutely brilliant young woman, and her grasp of complex mathematics is staggering. With a proper education, she could have been one of the greatest engineers or natural philosophers of our time.” “Truly?” “Absolutely, and without a doubt. I may have written those papers you’re holding, but I did so entirely based on Ada’s instructions and explanation. If you’re hoping to take the late Dr. Rawleigh’s work to any kind of practical conclusion, you will need the assistance of Ada Waller, I guarantee it.” Lucille hummed thoughtfully. “You seem a little protective of the girl, Alden. Has she taken your fancy?” “Not in the sense you’re implying, Lucille. I simply hate to see people with great potential wasting away without accomplishing anything because they were dealt a poor hand in life.” “And why is that?” “Because it very nearly happened to me.” Lucille gave him another long look, then she laughed. “Twice, I should think, but regarding two completely different types of potential. It would have been a terrible loss for English intelligence if you had been allowed to simply live out your life as a common tincturer, I feel.” “You just hired me as a private investigator, Lucille. I’m not a spy.” “Yet.” “Just because I’m doing one job for you doesn’t mean I’m ready to change my entire career.” Somewhat predictably, Lucille shot him a roguish grin and pulled a small pouch from her desk drawer, tossing it at Alden. But this time, Alden actually tossed the pouch of coins right back. “Don’t give that to me, give it to Ada. The stuff in those papers is all her work. All I did was write it down for her.” “Oh, I fully intend to hire the girl to work for me directly, and she will be more than adequately compensated. The money in that pouch is a reward for your excellent work, Alden Stowe.” “I hardly did anything worthy of that kind of compensation, Lucille.” “On the contrary, you were faced with a task that you were personally unable to complete, so you found the perfect person to do the job and managed to motivate them to do that job both quickly and well. And that is a very useful talent in an intelligence agent.” For the second time, Alden found himself considering refusing the money Lucille was offering him. The first time it had been mostly a fit of pique, but this time his thoughts were rather weightier. It was increasingly obvious that Lucille wanted to make their arrangement a long-term one, lasting well past this one case he was working on. And he knew that the more money kept coming his way, the harder it would be for him to turn down such a suggestion… But he also knew that he had relatively few principles that couldn’t be overruled by a sufficient amount of money, and his devotion to his career was not among them. In the end, he grabbed the money and left, but he wasn’t happy about it. Or so he kept telling himself. And so it was that Alden Stowe found himself walking the streets of London on a market day afternoon, carrying a not insignificant amount of money about his person and feeling mildly conflicted. Perhaps as a result of this unusual combination, he decided to do something he barely ever did. He decided to spend some money on things he didn’t actually need. His first stop was finding a tailor’s shop that was actually open on market day. This wasn’t much of a problem. After all, the Jews lived according to their own calendar with its seven-day weeks, putting them at odds with the roman week used in most of Europe. And thankfully this was not one of the rare occasions when market day coincided with Shabbat. Alden had a good bit of practical, hard-wearing clothing suitable for working in, or for strolling through the less illustrious parts of London. But besides the frock coat he had acquired after his misadventure with Lucille, he had practically nothing to wear that could be considered even remotely fashionable. Even in this unusual mood he wasn’t quite enough of a spendthrift to order something bespoke, but the tailor had some very respectable black suits on hand that fit Alden well enough. He was about to purchase a suit of a style somewhat similar to his usual apparel, but he couldn’t help but recall several comments about his clothing that he had received in the past few days. In the end, he purchased a suit with a cinched waist and slightly embellished shoulders. And looking in the mirror, he grudgingly had to admit he could almost pass for dashing, in a poor light. He also purchased a new hat. Not a top hat, mind. There were limits, after all. Thus far better dressed, and with his old clothes stowed away in a leather bag he had purchased mostly on a whim, Alden set out into the hustle and bustle of London. And to his slight chagrin, he noticed an immediate difference in how people reacted to him. He got jostled a lot less dressed in fine clothing than he did wearing his usual clothing. He also got a surprising amount of second glances, ranging from the calculating to the openly inviting, which he certainly wasn’t used to. Pondering the mysterious power of fashionable clothing, Alden wandered around the nearest market, sampling various hot treats and enjoying a mug or three of mulled cider. It really was a shockingly enjoyable way to spend an afternoon, now that he no longer felt like he had to carefully budget every last penny he owned. But as the sun began to set, Alden decided it was time to call it a day and head back home, perhaps with just a brief stop at the Lodge, since it wasn’t far out of his way. But before he could make it as far as Nabber Hill, Alden spotted a familiar figure in the distance. Even from behind, there was no mistaking the powder-blue dress and the wavy swell of shiny blonde hair. This was without a doubt the young woman that Miss Oxley had been making time with yesterday. Alden felt a little bad about inadvertently spying on the couple yesterday, especially since it turned out nothing untoward had been going on. Still, he was curious to find out what sort of girl it was that had captured the heart of his long-time employee, so he figured he might as well introduce himself. Alden picked up the pace a little, and as he drew close to the young woman he raised his voice to call to her. “You there, Tiffany, was it? Could I bother you for a moment of your time?” The woman didn’t turn around, but she did stop dead in her tracks. In fact, she seemed to have frozen completely, as if in shock or panic. Feeling rather concerned at the strange reaction, Alden quickly closed the distance and came face to face with the young woman. But when he finally got a good look at the young woman’s face, he was so shocked he couldn’t help but cry out in surprise. “Mr. Dawkins?”