Alden’s burgeoning plans for the day were almost instantly dashed by a knock on the front door. Opening it up, he found a runner holding a grubby bit of paper. The back of the torn little note was covered in scribbled letters and numbers, rendered largely illegible by flecks of oil. The messenger boy looked up at Alden with the near-angelic sweetness of a child hoping for a gratuity. “Message for Alden Stowe.” The boy almost chirped. Alden huffed at the obvious ploy, but still handed the boy a tuppence as he reached out for the note. “That’s me. Who’s it from?” “Karl Graustein, sir. Thankee kindly, sir.” “Ah, he must have figured something out. Thank you for this, lad. Be on your way.” As the child scampered off, Alden read the hastily scribbled note. All it said was that Karl had some new information to share, and for Alden to come by the workshop. Deciding not to waste any time, Alden stepped out into the street to hail a cab. Karl’s workshop was, if anything, even messier than last time, and none of the piles of scrap and junk seemed at all familiar to Alden, as if every single component had been moved since his last visit. Once again, he was able to track Karl’s progression through the shop not by sight, but by listening for the skittering of screws and the scraping of bits of metal getting kicked aside. When the man finally came into view, he looked as though he hadn’t slept in some time. Still, he smiled cheerfully when he spotted Alden. “There you are! That device you brought in was far more fascinating that I thought, you know! I’ve been spending every moment I could spare from my regular work just trying to figure out how exactly it generates the spark.” “By gods, man! You look like you haven’t slept in days. I never meant to put you through such trouble.” “No trouble at all, Alden! If anything, this is the most fun I’ve had in weeks!” “…If you say so. Just be sure you get some rest tonight, you hear?” Karl waved a hand dismissively as he pulled out the disassembled remains of the device. “Yes, yes. I’ll get some rest. But now’s hardly the time to get distracted by such trivial things. This really is a fascinating piece. The mechanical portion of the device is really simple. See, these two little bits of metal carry opposed charge, and that generates a spark when they are connected by these two wires here, see. If you flick the switch once, it primes this spring here. But that spring loses tension over time. So if the switch is left in the new position for more than a minute or so, the next time it gets flicked it will just prime the spring again. But if the switch is flicked while the spring is primed, it hits this release here, and the spring pulls the wires into place…” Alden looked at the partially disassembled components, trying to follow along with the explanation. “I think I see, yes. But that can’t be what makes you so excited. It seems fairly simple, after all.” “Oh, of course. That’s not the interesting bit! The interesting bit is how the opposed charges are generated in these pieces of metal. Usually, to generate an electrick spark like this, one would use some form of battery, like a Voltaic pile. But obviously there are no batteries small enough for a device like this.” “So how does it work?” “Now that’s the fascinating part! After making it spark a few times, it stopped working, so I thought that maybe someone had created an extremely small battery that could only hold a tiny amount of charge. But when I tried it again the next day, it sparked! It took me some time to figure it out, but these two pieces of metal actually build up a small amount of opposed charge when they’re heated and cooled! The total charge they can hold is very weak, but as long as they are in an area that changes in temperature over the course of the day, they can restore that charge all on their own!” “That is very interesting, although I’m not sure it’s really all that helpful to me.” “Ah, but you don’t have my connections, now do you?” With a triumphant grin, Karl tapped the greasy little cogwheel-shaped pin on his collar. Alden hadn’t even realized it was a pin until now, having mistaken it for a simple button. “I… don’t think I recognise that club.” He admitted. “Not surprising. The Tinker’s Tankard only received full club status some three years ago. But we’re growing fast. And I asked around when I visited last night. Turns out, there’s a man in London who’s been working with heat and how it interacts with electrick charge. Not a member of the club, but he’s done work for some of our members. Name of Merry Carter. Has a workshop at the far end of the south industrial district. And one of the people I spoke to purchased a pair of metal bits just like these from him no more than a week ago.” “Now that is very helpful. Thanks a bundle, Karl. Whatever favours you think you might owe me, consider them repaid.” “What, all of them?” “Sure, why not? I’m feeling generous. Now, I really must be going. I have a few questions to ask Mr. Carter.” Merry Carter’s workshop turned out to be the exact opposite of Karl’s. Where ‘Karl’s Mechanism Repair’ was a huge old building converted from a warehouse in Old London, ‘Carter Electrick’ was a small building of modern construction at the edge of the ever-expanding southern industrial district. A single chime rang out as Alden stepped into an extremely neat and clean workspace. Every drawer was labelled, every tool was in its proper place and there was not a speck of dust or spot of grease to be seen. The proprietor was hunched over a workbench, looking at something through a loupe, but he soon put his tools away and walked over to Alden. He was a man of late middle age, his sparsely growing hair more grey than black, and his beard and moustache were waxed to lay slick against his features. His apron was the only thing in the whole shop that showed signs of dirt and grease, and he was wiping his fingers on it even as he walked up to greet Alden. “Welcome to Carter Electrick. I am Merry Carter, the proprietor. How may I help you?” “Alden Stowe. I wished to inquire about a device that generates an electrick charge through changes in temperature.” “Ah, my thermoelectrick blocks! Wonderful little devices. I can make them as small as a quarter inch by half an inch by one eight of an inch, although obviously the charge they can hold at that size is positively minute.” “So I hear. Tell me, Mr. Carter, do you by any chance have any dealings with Han?” The enthusiasm on Mr. Carter’s face was almost immediately replaced by a wary sort of confusion. “As in, the nation? Certainly not, Mr. Stowe. I am perfectly well aware of her Majesty’s ban on selling any new inventions to Han, the Rus’ Lands, Sweden, Gallia or any of the independent Vinland states without prior permission.” Alden had not been aware of any such ban, but he certainly wasn’t about to tell Mr. Carter that. “I see. How about customers that hail from Han, or with Han heritage?” “None. Are you an investigator of some sort? Am I under suspicion?” “Let’s just say that a set of your thermoelectrick blocks ended up somewhere they shouldn’t. Don’t worry, you are not currently under any suspicion, and as long as you answer my questions I will do my best to keep you out of trouble.” Alden thanked his lucky stars that he was a fairly accomplished liar as Mr. Carter practically wilted under his gaze. When Mr. Carter spoke again, there was a bit of a nervous quaver in his voice. “Well, of course I’m perfectly happy to aid the crown in any way I can. I keep full records of anyone who purchases any of my more recent inventions. And of course I only sell to people with proper credentials. I am the very soul of caution, I assure you.” “Please show me your records, Mr. Carter.” The man nodded and hurried over to a locked cabinet, from which he extracted a large ledger. Laying the ledger down on the counter, he opened it up and turned it towards Alden. “Here we are. This holds all purchases of such items made this year, along with the names and credentials of the purchasers. If you don’t find what you’re looking for, I can show you last year’s purchase history as well. The specific items purchased are noted with an abbreviated letter code. The thermoelectrick blocks use the code TEB.” Alden nodded and started skimming the records, starting with the date of Dr. Rawleigh’s murder and working his way back. Twice, he asked for clarifications about the specific credentials of a customer, but he didn’t find anything that seemed out of place until… “Liam Tully?” “Ah, yes. Keen young lad, I always thought. Works for Doctor George Rawleigh. He and his brother occasionally purchase bits and pieces from me for Dr. Rawleigh’s laboratory. I haven’t heard from them or the good doctor in quite some time now, more’s the pity.” Alden considered informing the man of Dr. Rawleigh’s demise, but decided that doing so would only complicate matters. “Tell me, Mr. Carter, was there anything unusual about Mr. Tully’s purchase of the thermoelectric blocks?” “Well, now that you mention it, most purchases the Tullys made were charged directly to Dr. Rawleigh’s account, but for this one purchase Liam paid directly in coin… Are you saying the lad purchased my blocks for some sort of nefarious purpose?” “I think you’d best forget about this whole matter, Mr. Carter. Not one word of it to anyone, understand?” “Of course, Mr. Stowe. Just as you say.” “But if the Tullys return for further business, find some excuse to send them away. Then write down the time, date, and what they sought to purchase, place the information in a sealed envelope addressed to Alden Stowe and send it to the ninth mail district post office.” “Of course, Mr. Stowe! I… I’m not in some sort of trouble, am I?” “Not at all, Mr. Carter. Let’s make sure it stays that way.” Leaving the rather intimidated and bewildered Mr. Carter behind, Alden left the shop and immediately started making his way to Corner House. The newfound information was still spinning around Alden’s head as he tugged on the bell-pull of Corner House. Three months ago, Liam Tully had purchased six sets of thermoelectric blocks from Merry Carter, paying in coin rather than charging it to Dr. Rawleigh’s account like usual. A set of those same blocks were then found in a device that was almost certainly installed to assist in the murder of Dr. Rawleigh. Dr. Rawleigh, who had probably been killed by way of poison being added to his daily herring stew. And on the very day of the murder, Kieran Tully had apparently been putting up a wire mesh in the window over the stove. The window that the poisoner had presumably been using to add the poison to… He was pulled out of his musings when the door was opened by the butler, Mr. Hope. “Ah, Mr. Stowe. How may I be of service?” “I’m looking for the lads, Liam and Kieran. Are they in?” “I’m afraid they are no longer in our employ. They kept complaining that the house was just too crowded with all the new staff moving in, so in the end they negotiated an end to their contract with Mrs. Juliet Baines. Quite frankly, Mrs. Baines was only too happy to see them gone. She never liked the lads much. They packed up and left three days ago.” “Damn! Damn and double-damn! I don’t suppose you know where they went?” “I’m afraid not, sir. They didn’t leave any forwarding address or anything of the sort.” “Just my luck. Do send a message if you hear from them, will you?” “Of course, sir. Is there anything else I can do to help you?” “Not at this ti… Actually, yes! Could you send for Miss Bakshi, please? I would like a quick word with her.” “Of course, sir. Would you like me to guide you to a sitting room while you wait?” “No need. Just bring her here.” “At once, sir.” Alden waited impatiently as the butler left to call for the cook. When Miss Bakshi arrived, she looked if anything more intimidating than ever, with her head freshly shaved and an annoyed glint in her eyes. “What do you want, Stowe? I don’t have all day. The new cooks are all a bunch of daft bints and I’m having a Hel of a time whipping them into shape.” “Just a quick question. The window over the kitchen… How long had you been asking the lads to put that mesh in before they actually got around to it?” “Oh, I was complaining about the noises from that window for weeks. I kept hearing scratching and scraping when I left the kitchen with the window open, but there was never anything there when I went back in. Must have been a rat or a raven or something sneaking in. But the lads kept skiving off and making excuses every time I complained. I had to take the issue up with Mr. Hope before the lads agreed to do something about it, and even then it took them days to actually go out and buy the damn mesh and put it up. It worked, though. Haven heard any noises since the mesh got put up.” “I see. Thank you for your time, Miss Bakshi. That was all I needed to know.” “What’s so important about the kitchen window anyway?” “Oh, just an idle curiosity, Miss Bakshi. Don’t worry about it.” Just an idle curiosity about two young men conspiring to aid a murderer, Alden thought darkly as Miss Bakshi grumbled and went back inside. Having learned all he felt he was likely to from the people at Corner House, Alden Stowe instead sought a private audience with Hakim the Golden, and he was surprised and gratified when the Barker agreed to see him at no more than a few moments notice. As he was showed into the sectioned-off little corner of The Place that served as the Barker’s room, he noted the vast number of knives, blackjacks, knuckles and cudgels hung up all over the walls like trophies. There was even an old infantry pike holding pride of place on the wall above the bed. “Admiring the loot?” Hakim asked as he entered the room behind Alden. “This is rather a lot.” “I helped as much as I could when we were setting up The Sump. The docks district wasn’t a good place for a Rascal to run. Not until we cleaned it up.” “Explains where you got your scars.” “I’m a fighter. It’s in my blood. When I heard we were putting down roots in the docks, I jumped at the call. More fool me. They went and made me Second Barker to ‘reward my heroics’. Haven’t been able to get into a proper scrap since. Can’t even go patrolling our territory for muggers. I’m pretty sure the other Barkers just wanted a way to keep me out of trouble.” “I was wondering why the Second Barker was in The Place. You’d figure if the Rascals needed more Barkers, they’d put the First Barker in the first place the Rascals were headquartered in.” “That’s how it used to be. But the First Barker changed things around so the safest Rascal territory was the territory of the Second Barker, and then she stuck me here.” “Because if she stuck you here by making you First Barker, she wouldn’t have the authority to make sure you stayed put.” Hakim grinned, his gold teeth glinting in the candlelight. “Just so. She’s a crafty little bitch, is Minty Miles. She was Barker at nine, and First Barker by eleven.” Alden shuddered as he considered just what kind of person could rise so high within the Rascals at such a young age. “I’ll steer well clear. But that’s not what I’m here to talk about.” “I figured. What’s on your mind, Old Boy?” “I’m looking for information about a pair of ne’er-do-wells. Figured they might be known to the Rascals. Liam and Kieran Tully.” “Can’t say the names ring a bell. Can you describe them?” “Twins. I would guess they either came in from Éire or their family is from there, just going by the names and how they speak. Sprightly young lads. Handsome, in a boyish sort of way. Probably not far past twenty. Red hair with just a bit of curl to it, brown eyes. Damn near identical, save that Kieran has a small scar next to his right eyebrow.” Hakim’s eyebrows had furrowed more and more as Alden’s description progressed, but when Alden mentioned the scar Hakim scowled darkly. “You’ve been made a fool of, Old Boy. Those boys are no Tullys. And they’re triplets, not twins.” “You know them?” “Ben, Tom and Bill Corker. They ran with the Rascals when I was a new kid. Real rowdy bunch, and not in a good way. They got thrown out of the Rascals for getting violent with blameless folk.” Alden frowned. One of the key tenets of the Rascals was to never get violent with anyone unless you were sure the constabulary would judge in your favour if you got found out. Going rough on criminals and armed ruffians was one thing, but a Rascal getting violent with blameless folk threatened to bring the law down on the rascals as a whole. “I hope they got thrown out hard.” “Hard enough. I saw them when they were being run out. One of them had his face busted open up by the right eye, and it was bleeding enough to make him look a real horror. Word among the Rascals was they got themselves in real trouble with the law not much later, and they had to stow away on a boat bound for Éire to escape the Bobbies.” “Well, they’re back. And they’re trouble. Spread the word. If anyone spots them, I want to know about it.” “You sure don’t sound happy with them. What are you after them for?” “Helping a poisoner murder a man, and possibly a spot of treason on the side.” Hakim gave Alden a searching look. “You’re serious?” “Completely.” “Well then. We can’t have treasonous murderers running around our streets, now can we? I’ll spread the word to my Rascals that they’re to keep an eye out. Carefully, of course.” “Thank you, Barker.” “Just doing my job, Old Boy. I might not be Barker by choice, but Barker I am, and I’ll be damned if I’m not gonna be the best at it.” Before heading home for the day, Alden wrote down what he knew about the Corkers, AKA the Tullys, then placed the information in a sealed envelope and handed it over to the old woman who minded the door at the Baines residence. Maybe Lucille could rustle up some information on what got the Corkers into trouble with the law in the first place. Or maybe she had some contacts that could track down where they’d gone off to after leaving Corner House. Because one thing was certain. The muck Alden was investigating ran deeper than he’d realized, and the lads were in it to their knees.