I gazed for a long time at the many-columned structure that was the Polytechnic and wondered how on earth I’d find Mr. Thanos inside it. This was a place of learning, and not even open yet—they’d commence in September. For now, lecturers were preparing their curriculum and the building was being repaired.
I decided to do what I’d do in any house, and walked around to the back and down a short flight of stairs to the servants’ entrance.
“Can you tell me how to find Mr. Elgin Thanos?” I asked a passing maid, who carried a broom and duster. “I have an important delivery for him.” I patted my covered basket.
The woman was stout and red-faced, her hair damp under a limp white cap. Not much air moved in this corridor, and it was warm.
Her surly expression at my interruption softened at the mention of Mr. Thanos’s name. “Ah, he’s a one. Such a kind young man. He’s in his rooms, dear. Want me to take it to him?” She reached out a work-reddened hand.
I carefully backed a step. “No, indeed. It is very sensitive, and I was told to deliver it in person.” I changed my stilted tones to the ones I was born with. “Do help me out, love. I’ll be in a world of trouble if this thing don’t reach Mr. Thanos unbroken.”
The woman nodded sympathetically. “Aye, they’re particular about their machines, ain’t they? Up you go. He’s on the second floor, back corner on the right as you’re looking from the street. His digs ain’t large, but he don’t seem to mind. Not like some of the others.”
“I imagine there’s much fighting over the big rooms in this new place,” I said, to be conversational.
“Aye, you’re right, there. Men of learning can be like children.” The maid shook her head.
“Well, thank you, love,” I said, deciding our chat had wound to its close. “I’d best be getting on.”
The maid nodded to me cordially, and I hurried away. The back stairs were wide and steep, and I was puffing by the time I’d reached the second floor. I followed the maid’s instructions through the empty halls to the rear of the building where an open door spilled sunlight into the corridor.
I peeked into this chamber and saw Mr. Thanos hunched over a desk, face in his hand, as he read papers spread before him.
The desk took up most of the tiny room, and the rest of the space was crammed with bookcases. Books of every size and shape filled the shelves, some lying across rows of others. Papers hung out of boxes stacked on the same shelves, and the desk was awash with paper and more books, some opened over others.
Mr. Thanos abruptly seized a pen and made a swift note, muttering under his breath. “No, it does not follow that sequence. Where did you learn mathematics, Elgin, old fellow? Blast it, I shall have to rewrite half of this bloody—”
I cleared my throat.
Mr. Thanos jerked his head up, sunlight from the small window catching on the thick lenses of his spectacles. Another man might have snarled at the interruption, from a servant no less, but Mr. Thanos, after a startled look, leapt to his feet, a wide smile spreading across his face.
“Mrs. Holloway, what a wonderful surprise. I say, you’ve come in time to save my sanity.” Mr. Thanos tossed down the pen, splattering ink across his pages, then tore off his glasses and sent them after the pen. The spectacles landed solidly in a splash of ink.
“I’ve brought you a delivery.” I set the basket on the least-cluttered corner of the desk and lifted out a wrapped parcel. “Lemon cake, a large hunk of it. I made more today and decided you likely weren’t feeding yourself.”
“That’s what Cyn—Lady Cynthia says. So does my landlady.”
“Well, you’ll be able to nourish yourself with this.”
“You are too kind.” Mr. Thanos lifted the parcel and took a sniff, closing his eyes. “I will be quite ready to tuck into that. Thank you for thinking of me, Mrs. Holloway.”
“I do confess it was not only kindness that brought me.” I left the basket and drew Tess’s paper out of my pocket. “I came to see you about several things. One is, do you know what sort of chemical this is?”
Mr. Thanos took the paper and peered at it, then groped behind him for his spectacles. He brought them to his face, pursed his lips when he saw the ink on them, and thrust his hand into his pocket for a handkerchief, losing hold of the paper in the process.
I retrieved the scrap from the floor and held it until Mr. Thanos had cleaned the glasses, returned the handkerchief, and looped the spectacles around his ears.
“Now.” He stared at the words on the paper. “Hmm.”
“Do you know what it means?”
“Can’t say that I do.” Mr. Thanos held the paper up to the light, as though that would give him the answer. “But let us see, shall we?”
He turned to his bookshelves and stepped onto a small ladder, eagerly scanning the books’ spines. “I inherited this lot from the last chap who had this office, before the old Polytechnic shut down. Chap went to South America to study the stars. Just imagine . . .” Mr. Thanos drew a breath, letting his mind wander to the joy of staring at the heavens from the southern latitudes. “Ah well. Plenty to do here. His library has a bit of everything in it. I swore I saw some excellent tomes on botany.”
“Botany?” I moved closer to the bookcase and scrutinized the titles, all of which were very long and printed in minuscule type.
Mr. Thanos shook the paper. “This is a chemical found in plants. I’m certain I should know it, but botany is not my field, and neither is chemistry. Mathematics is very consuming. Ah, here we are.”
He extracted a tome and flipped it open, quickly becoming absorbed in a page.
“Does it tell you what the poison is?” I asked after a few minutes had ticked past.
“Hmm?” Mr. Thanos’s head popped up. “Oh, no, I beg your pardon. This is an essay on the history of pi. Pi, the number.” He chuckled. “Not your excellent pastries.”
“I see,” I said, a trifle impatiently.
“I will save it for later.” Mr. Thanos tossed the book to the desk, where it landed across the pages he had been working on. “These shelves are a treasure trove of knowledge.” He seized another book and thrust it in front of me. The Taxonomy of the Flora of Britain, Native and Introduced, the title on the front said. There were more words, but Mr. Thanos whipped the book away and leapt from the ladder.
He laid this book more carefully on the desk and opened it to an index in the back. I thought he’d consult the scrap of paper again, but Mr. Thanos ran his finger along a column, paused at one line, and then flipped pages. He stopped at one and slapped it.
“There. You see?”