Loch of the Dead by Oscar de Muriel

Author:Oscar de Muriel [Muriel, Oscar de]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781405926232
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2018-05-30T23:00:00+00:00

Konrad Koloman had a small yet excellently well-appointed laboratory. It was also in a basement, this one on the opposite wing of the manor, directly underneath the girls’ Shadows Room.

The shelves and benches were crammed with vials, flasks and beakers, all glinting in the dim light that filtered through the barred windows. On the central bench there was a large distillation set – two large flasks connected by a long condenser. It was empty at the moment, but its convoluted glass tubing was stained a nice shade of purple.

Boyde was the only soul around. He was sitting on a low stool, meticulously dusting a handful of sealed test tubes. I remembered that the first time I’d met him he’d given off a hint of a chemical whiff. The young man seemed unusually excited by the dull job, looking intently at the colourful crystals and liquids contained in the vials.

‘I need some light,’ said Mr Koloman, feeling for a switch on the wall. ‘My eyes are not as good as this young chap’s.’ And suddenly the place was inundated by golden light from incandescent bulbs on the ceiling.

‘Are those electric?’ I asked.

‘Indeed,’ said Mr Koloman with an air of pride.

‘How do you generate –’

‘Sodium batteries. I learned how to synthesize them after I read Verne’s Vingt mille lieues sous les mers.’

‘Whah?’ cried McGray.

‘Some stupid Frenchman who has written a good deal of dull-witted nonsense,’ I said. ‘Why, you might like his books!’

‘Why don’t ye use candles?’ Nine-Nails asked. ‘Like … normal folk.’

Mr Koloman took this as a compliment. ‘Oh, we are far from normal, Mr McGray. And I have a keen interest in chemistry. Purely recreational, of course.’

I took a step closer to Boyde and had a look at the chemicals. Some labels read copper sulphate, mercuric cyanide and aqua regia – hardly the sort of materials I’d leave in the hands of a seemingly illiterate young servant.

I frowned, and McGray knew exactly what was going through my head.

‘Aye,’ Nine-Nails said, ‘purely recreational.’

‘I do not have formaldehyde,’ Mr Koloman was saying as he went through his shelves. ‘Would ethanol help?’ And he showed me an amber bottle that contained scarcely a few ounces.

‘Is this all you have?’

‘Indeed. Natalja uses a lot to clean her lenses and prisms. Very versatile, ethanol. If I was told I could keep only one chemical …’

I could not care less about his digressions. ‘In a manor like this you must have ice.’

‘Yes, we usually do,’ explained Mr Koloman. ‘To cool down champagne and oysters, you see. Every winter we bury a good deal to last us the year, but it is late summer now and we did throw a large party. I’m afraid we’ve depleted our reserves.’

I grunted, pondering my choices. ‘Mr Koloman, I know this is too stupid a question, but given your affluence … do you happen to own a photographic camera? At least I could document the state of the body, in case our reinforcements arrive too late.’

Mr Koloman winced. ‘I did buy a Gandolfi for Veronika a few years ago – that’s why I still keep some of that silver chloride.

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