Page 80 of Affair

“I know now why it appeared vaguely familiar. I’m almost certain that I saw it a long time ago in one of the ancient alchemical texts in my library.”

Charlotte stared at him. “You believe it is related to alchemy?”

“I cannot yet say for certain. I have not been able to locate it yet. It may take some time. It has been years since I noticed such a design and I do not recall which book contained it.”

“Dear God.” Charlotte let the news skitter around in her brain while she struggled with the implications. “That would mean that there’s a connection between The Green Table club and the murder of Mrs. Heskett.”

“It’s only a possibility,” Baxter emphasized quietly. “An unlikely one at that. But I will grant that it should be researched.”

“Why do you say unlikely?” Charlotte felt almost feverish with the excitement of the discovery. “It is a direct link. Do not forget that Mrs. Heskett was involved in a liaison with Lord Lennox, whose son, Norris, is a member of the club. He was the one undergoing the mesmerism experiment tonight.”

“Yes, but it was Lord Lennox, not his son, who was Drusilla’s lover.” Baxter smiled briefly. “I think I can state unequivocally that Lennox has nothing to do with The Green Table. Not his kind of thing at all. In any event, only young men of Hamilton’s age appear to be members.”

“Perhaps, but it’s possible that poor Drusilla came across some information about one of the members of the club while she was involved with Norris’s father.” Charlotte frowned. “I cannot think what sort of information would get her killed, however.”

“That, of course, is the great mystery here. What could she have learned that would be worth her life? The club members appear to be dabbling in mesmerism but so are a good many other people.”

“I do not like the feel of this, Baxter.”

“Nor do I.”

“If there is a murderer in The Green Table club, your brother could be at risk.”

He met her eyes again. “We will take this step by step, just as one does any well-constructed experiment. First, I shall confirm my suspicions about the drawing. Then we shall see if we can discover the name of the owner of The Green Table. Whoever he is, he must know something about this business.”

Charlotte regarded him with an admiration that she did not trouble to conceal. “I believe, sir, that you are going to prove to be an extremely useful man-of-affairs.”

Thirteen

The small book was old, one of the most ancient in Baxter’s library. He had not had occasion to examine it in a long while. It was one of a number of alchemical texts that he had acquired over the years. He was not certain why.

Alchemy was a subject that properly belonged to the past, not the modern age. It was chemistry’s dark side, a devil’s brew of occult studies, metaphysical speculation, and supernatural secrets. It was rubbish.

But there was a sense of deep mystery about alchemy that had always intrigued him, especially in his younger days. The endless, obsessive quest for the Philosopher’s Stone, the search for the basic laws that governed nature, drew him in some deep, elemental fashion that he could not explain.

And so he had collected books such as this one.

The leather binding was cracked, but the thick pages were in remarkably good condition. If he had not been so exhausted from the long, sleepless night, he would have been briefly amused by the title page. In the long tradition of alchemists who chose to write treatises on their subject, the author had assigned himself a flamboyant pseudonym. Aristotle Augustus.

Almost as riveting as Basil Valentine, Baxter thought, the name he had used forConversations on Chemistry. But, then, he’d been only twenty when he had authored the book, just down from Oxford. He’d felt the need of a pseudonym that carried some weight.

Basil Valentine had been a legendary alchemist, a man of mystery. He had delved deeply into the arcane arts of the fire. He was said to have discovered great secrets and learned the nature of raw power.

In short, the name had sounded a good deal more exciting and romantic than Baxter St. Ives.

Baxter liked to think that he had matured a lot since Oxford.

He braced himself with both hands spread wide on the polished ebony desk and studied the slim volume that lay open in front of him. The Latin title translated into English asA True History of the Secrets of the Fire.

The drawing, a crude picture of a triangle inside a circle, was located near the center of the slender volume. Unlike Drusilla Heskett’s sketch, this was more easily comprehended. The squiggles were not worms, but various mythical beasts. The dots were tiny symbols that Baxter recognized as having alchemical references.

The drawing was the usual mixture of metaphors and cryptic designs so beloved by the alchemists. The ancients had reveled in the obscure and had gone to great lengths to conceal their secrets from the uninitiated. Baxter knew that he was looking at a diagram that was meant to be an alchemical key, a pictorial description of a secret experiment that, if conducted perfectly, would lead to the discovery of the Philosopher’s Stone.

There was no doubt but that it represented a direct link with The Green Table. But the questions still remained. Why had Drusilla Heskett copied the diagram into her watercolor sketchbook? Why had someone felt the need to steal the book from Charlotte and why was Drusilla dead?

Baxter closedA True History of the Secrets of the Fireand glanced at the tall clock. It was five-thirty in the morning. After taking Charlotte home, he had been unable to sleep. Driven by a need for answers, he had spent what had been left of the night there in the library. He was in his shirtsleeves. The coat and cravat he had worn that evening lay draped across a nearby chair.

Wearily he removed his eyeglasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Foreboding sat on his shoulder, a great dark bird of prey. He could sense the gathering danger. A plan of action was required. He would have to formulate one as quickly as possible. The most important goal was to protect Charlotte while the matter got sorted out. But first he needed some sleep.

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