Page 26 of Murder at Somerset House (A Wrexford & Sloane Mystery #9)
C harlotte let out a gasp.
“Though there is still much work to be done on refining the technology,” Ronalds hastened to add.
Wrexford, too, felt a surge of excitement—and of dread.
The world would be fundamentally changed by the fact that a tiny unseen pulse of electricity could communicate information over vast distances within the space of a heartbeat.
And like any revolutionary invention, such power could be a two-edged sword.
But philosophical musings could wait. At the moment, he needed to understand exactly what the young man’s electrical telegraph was capable of doing.
“I’ve no expertise in the fields of electricity and magnetism,” said the earl. “So might you explain the principles of your invention to us in layman’s terms?”
“I shall try.” Ronalds blew out his breath. “For now, I don’t use voltaic piles. I prefer another technology.”
“So how do you generate electricity?”
“I use a method that I call perpetual electrophorous ,” answered Ronalds. “It’s a type of frictional electricity, which has been known to men of science since the 1600s.”
“Francis Hauksbee’s electrostatic generator of 1709,” mused Wrexford, “and the triboelectric charger created by the king’s instrument maker in 1799.”
“Precisely, sir! Though those machines were really just designed as parlor games,” exclaimed Ronalds.
“However, the idea of creating an electrostatic telegraph is nothing new. I found a fascinating article in a periodical called Scots Magazine , published in 1753. The author—who chose to be identified only as C. M. to avoid ridicule for his theory—postulated a way to communicate messages by sending each letter of the alphabet as a separate pulse of electricity. My system is based on the same concept.”
“Have you any idea whether it actually works?” ventured the earl.
“As to that, I have actually built a working model—would you care to see it?”
“Oh, very much so,” answered Wrexford.
The young man pointed across the lawn to what looked like a large root cellar built into the ground.
A set of sunken steps and a heavy oak door afforded access to the interior.
“We’ll have to go inside my underground laboratory.
” He gave Charlotte an apologetic look. “I’m afraid it’s rather primitive, milady.
You may want to remain here as your lovely silk gown might suffer irreparable damage. ”
“Like your mother, I am a firm believer in making sacrifices for scientific progress,” she replied. “Please lead the way. I wouldn’t miss seeing this for all the tea in China.”
‘Watch your step as you approach. The cannisters on the outside landing are filled with highly flammable pine spirits,” warned Ronalds, once he had unlocked the cellar door. He paused to light a lamp and then led the way down into the bowels of the earth.
Wrexford immediately noted a series of machines that were hooked up to a large mechanical apparatus constructed with belts, levers, and pulleys, as well as a massive crank powered by a small steam engine.
“Is that your frictional electricity machine?”
“Yes!” answered Ronalds, and pointed to a series of wires running down through a glass cylinder into the earthen floor. “The actual experiment takes place underground.”
Out of the corner of his eye, the earl saw Charlotte take out her notebook and make a quick sketch.
“To create optimum conditions for the electricity to travel without interference, I dug a trench a hundred and twenty-five feet long and four feet deep and lined it with wooden boards coated on both sides with pitch to minimize moisture,” continued Ronalds.
“Then I constructed a line of interlocking glass tubes and sealed each connection with soft wax. The transmission worked perfectly, so the next challenge was how to devise a signaling system capable of transmitting messages.”
Charlotte edged closer. “Don’t keep us in suspense, sir! I am all agog to hear how you managed that!”
Ronalds gave a rueful grimace. “It is still, as inventors are wont to say, a work in progress.” He gestured for her and the earl to follow him to a desk that held yet more mechanical devices and showed them a clock mechanism and a circular brass dial divided into twenty equal triangles.
Each triangle featured a letter, a number, and a keyword, like Finished and Ready .
“I had to leave out some of the less-used letters like Q and X ,” continued the young man.
“How does it work?” asked Charlotte.
Ronalds blew out his breath. “It’s a bit complicated to explain all the technical details. Basically, I have grounded an individual wire to each of the twenty segments of the dial, and an electrical pulse to a specific letter will cause the main dial to rotate.”
He showed them another plain brass dial with a single hole cut out of it. “To receive a message, one places this dial on top of the other one so that you copy each letter in succession and end up with your full message.”
“Why, that’s incredibly ingenious!” she exclaimed.
“Perhaps in theory, milady.” Another grimace. “The idea is intriguing, but in truth, what I’m doing is, like the inventions of the previous century, still only a parlor game rather than a practical innovation like a steam engine or nautical propeller.”
Wrexford looked around at the laboratory, noting how meticulous about order and precision the young man was.
“I have some further questions I would like to ask you, Mr. Ronalds. But they involve sensitive matters. I would need to have your solemn oath that you won’t reveal what I ask to anyone—not even your mother. ”
“Don’t let Mama’s sweet smile and cheery demeanor deceive you.
She’s the most practical, pragmatic person I know, and in a pinch, I would trust my life to her above all others,” said Ronalds.
“But that is neither here nor there regarding your statement. Please be assured that you may rely on my absolute discretion, milord.”
He glanced at Charlotte to gauge her reaction and received a confirming nod.
“Thank you.” Wrexford took a moment to compose his first question.
“I have been told that the French men of science are far more advanced in the study of electricity than our own innovators. Do you think they could have a practical working model of an electric telegraph—one that could be employed in normal everyday conditions?”
“No, sir.” The young man’s answer was instantaneous. “I’m quite sure they haven’t.”
“But Laplace’s letter to André-Marie Ampère, which hinted at a scientific paper—” began the earl.
“I’m aware of Laplace’s scientific paper and have analyzed its contents. There is much interesting speculation, but I am quite sure the French have made no real progress on creating a working electrical telegraph.”
Ronalds perched a hip on his desk. “My family’s affluence—and their good-natured tolerance of my passion for science—has allowed me the luxury of reading countless papers from the past and learning from them.
Naturally, the French men of science and their work have been of particular interest to me because of their advanced knowledge in electricity.
I have studied most of their writings, and it’s clear that the technical challenges of an electrical telegraph are perniciously complex. ”
He tapped his fingertips together, lost for a moment in thought.
“Indeed, I suspect it will take at least a decade of scientific exploration before we begin to understand the key forces at work. Boyleston’s colleagues called him a fool, but I think he may have been on the right track regarding the elemental connection of electricity and magnetism, though I can’t yet figure out how they work together. ”
“You are confident that a working telegraph is far in the future?” Wrexford hesitated. “I ask because, as I mentioned, it’s vitally important that I don’t pass on wrong information.”
Ronalds met his gaze with an unflinching smile. “I am absolutely confident, sir. We don’t yet have the science to do this properly.”
The earl released an inner sigh, feeling as if a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. He had done his duty for King and Country and could report his findings to Grentham …
And be done with all the damnable skullduggery.
Charlotte’s expression indicated that she was thinking much the same thing.
“I’m much obliged to you, Ronalds.” Given what the young man had just told him, Wrexford was anxious to return to Town without delay. “We’ve taken up enough of your time and ought to allow you to get back to your work.”
Ronalds nodded as he picked up the lantern and turned for the stairs.
“Please give our apologies to your mother for not staying for refreshments,” added Charlotte.
The young man looked back over his shoulder “Only if you promise to return again soon, milady. Mama makes a delicious Dundee cake. And I confess, I would very much like to discuss some metallurgy questions with you, milord.”
“I would be happy to do so.”
“Excellent!” Ronalds took another step up when suddenly a shadow skittered over his boots and the dark silhouette of a figure blocked the doorway.
“I’m afraid I must ask the three of you to halt where you are.”
The lantern light angled up, illuminating a tall gentleman well dressed in every detail save for the black silk covering the lower part of his face up to his eyes—and the two double-barreled pistols he was holding in his hands.
Charlotte instinctively reached for the pistol tucked in her hidden pocket, but Wrexford caught her hand.
“Don’t,” he whispered, noting the flat, unemotional look in their captor’s eyes. “He has the look of a hardened killer. Let us bide our time.” In a louder voice, he asked, “Might I inquire as to why we are being detained?”