A Study in Revenge (40 page)

“We know that Thomas Webster had the thunderstone at the time of his death in 1821. For the connection to Mowat and the killing of Clough to hold up, we need to know he had it as early as the Revolutionary War. Attorney Dyer may know the details. Also, he still has the original will and testament. I’ll need to see the list of other property mentioned therein. Rule out the possibility that there’s something else of value there besides the thunderstone.”

“You go and confirm it with the lawyer, but I’m assuming all you’ll find is the thunderstone.” A resolve that had been absent throughout much of the discussion now returned to Lean’s voice. “That’s what Frank Cosgrove stole in the first place. So we need to decipher what those symbols mean. If whoever killed Cosgrove figures it before us and finds what he’s after, he’ll vanish without another clue.”

G
REY SAT AT A TABLE NEAR THE WINDOWS OF THE
A
THENAEUM
’
S
second-floor reading room. Justice Holmes’s telegram of that morning had alerted him to the fact that the Boston police had finally returned Eben Horsford’s book. He’d responded with a pair of telegrams to Boston along with the earliest train departure he could find. Now the newly repaired manuscript of the professor’s final book was spread before him. He finished his last sketch of the twenty-four symbols reproduced in the late professor’s treatise. Grey glanced out the window; there was nothing to see except some people passing under the streetlamps and a few lit windows in the nearby buildings. He glanced at his pocket watch. Father Leadbetter’s telegram that morning, in answer to Grey’s, had stated he could meet at nine o’clock. The man was now three minutes late.

The sound of tentative footsteps floated through the air and Grey looked up to see Father Leadbetter in the entranceway at the far end of the reading room. Grey raised his hand to acknowledge the man, who smiled and did likewise. The former minister had replaced his ratty robe with a proper suit, but it was old and worn, giving him the appearance of some cloistered academic who hadn’t stepped away from his studies long enough in the past two decades to update his wardrobe.

“Sorry I’m late,” Leadbetter said.

Grey motioned to the seat beside him. “Not at all. Thank you for coming.”

“My pleasure. Your telegram was most intriguing,” Leadbetter said as he settled himself into the chair and angled the book for a clearer view. “So these are the symbols you mentioned, eh? Well, let’s have a look.”

“Thank you. Your expertise is most appreciated. I haven’t had time
to conduct the necessary research on my own. The Portland Library is sadly lacking in materials on Rosicrucian alchemical symbols.”

Leadbetter smiled and nodded before he began to study the pages in earnest. His bony fingers turned each page with the utmost care as he worked through the book, pausing longer on some of the twenty-four images. Occasionally he muttered to himself, sounds that Grey tried to identify as indications of familiarity or puzzlement.

When there were no more symbols to consider, Grey asked, “Do you recognize any more of these as possible Rosicrucian figures?”

“Not Rosicrucian per se, but I do think that”—the older man paused as he did the mental arithmetic—“eleven of them could be said to represent basic alchemical symbols.”

“And the others?”

“I could hazard a guess as to the origins or meanings of some if I were forced to, but I couldn’t say for certain.”

Grey flipped through the pages until he came to a pair of sheets each bearing a shape like a Roman numeral one. “What about these? It alone is a duplicate among the symbols, appearing twice in a row.”

“Uppercase ‘i.’ Roman numeral ones. Something else entirely?” Leadbetter guessed.

Grey nodded and readied a blank sheet of paper. “The eleven symbols, then. Show me which ones they are.”

Leadbetter started back to the beginning of the shapes. He flipped through, landing a finger and pronouncing an identity on eleven of the two dozen images: “Salt, lead, tin, dissolution, silver, mercury, iron, coagulation, copper, gold, sulfur.”

As each of the symbols was identified, Grey quickly copied down each corresponding figure, collecting all eleven on a new single page. Then he studied this grouping.

“There are more than eleven symbols used in alchemy, correct?”

Leadbetter nodded his agreement. “Far more.”

“So what do these mean? Why are these eleven chosen to be represented?”

“They are important ones, certainly.”

Grey stared at the older man, awaiting clarification.

“Take them in groups.” Leadbetter pointed to the images on Grey’s page. “May I label them?”

Grey nodded his assent, and Leadbetter started his identifications.

“Salt, mercury, and sulfur are considered the Three Principles into which all things can be divided, allegorically speaking. They represent the form, spirit, and essence of things, more or less. We could discuss the philosophical subtleties of it for a long time, but you take the general flavor of the idea.” Leadbetter gestured to the page again before continuing.

“We also have
solve
and
coagula
.”

“I mentioned those when you came to see me earlier, when I showed you the picture of Baphomet. Two vital stages in the process of alchemy.
Solve
refers to the dissolution or breaking down of a thing into its distinct essential elements. Then, after purification, there is
coagula
. The coming together again, whereby the material is once again reconstituted, but now in its purest form. And finally there are the seven metals.” Leadbetter labeled these each in order as he spoke.

“Lead, tin, silver, mercury, iron, copper, gold.”

“You’ve mentioned mercury in two capacities,” Grey said.

“Mercury has near-infinite capacities. It is the transformative and unifying essence, the alpha and the omega, the one and the all.”

Grey was listening but focusing his attention on the drawings. “Very interesting.”

“Do the symbols mean something to you?” the older man asked.

“Not all eleven, but—” Grey raised his index finger and then bent down to reach into his satchel. A moment later he produced another sheet of paper on which the seven images from the thunderstone were copied. “I am familiar with these seven, which appear among your eleven.”

Leadbetter compared the two pictorial lists, then declared, “Well, obviously what you have there are the seven primary metals again. But I’d say you’ve got them out of order.”

“Really? How’s that?”

“You’ve ordered them starting with that one you showed me before, mercury. Truly it’s lead not mercury that should be your starting point. In alchemy lead is the base metal, or, spiritually speaking, it represents the human body as the raw, base material. Lead is transformed through the alchemical process through the stages of tin, silver, mercury, iron, copper, and finally into gold, representing pure spiritual enlightenment.” Leadbetter paused as he regarded Grey’s papers. “Where’d you get your list of seven, if I may ask?”

“A different stone from that which held those twenty-four,” Grey said.

Leadbetter frowned. “Do you suppose there’s a connection between the two sources?”

Grey allowed himself a little smile. “Perhaps. But who can say what it might be?”

There was a moment of silence as each man realized they’d quickly come to the end of whatever path they’d been following or hoping to follow in the Athenaeum that night.

“Well, if it would help at all,” Leadbetter said with a sudden burst of enthusiasm, “I could loan you some of my volumes on alchemy and
the Rosicrucians. Maybe within the pages you could find some sort of explanation that would give you the answer you’re looking for.”

“That might be helpful indeed. I’m leaving tonight on the 10:15 to Portland. I could accompany you back to your rooms to collect the books.”

Leadbetter waved off the idea. “No need for you to bother. I could hurry home and get them and meet you at the station. The B&M, ten-fifteen to Portland.”

“That’s most generous of you, Mr. Leadbetter. Thank you ever so much for all your assistance.”

The two men headed downstairs, and Grey paused, making an excuse about needing to speak to one of the librarians. Leadbetter tipped his hat and hurried out the front door. Grey made his way toward one of the windows overlooking the entrance on Beacon Street. He couldn’t fathom why the slow-moving Leadbetter had been so keen on making the trip to the North End alone to collect the offered books and lug them to the train station. It would have been simpler and quicker for Grey to accompany him.

He watched Leadbetter reach the sidewalk and turn right. Grey strode to a side door and exited. After making his way up a side alley he stopped at the corner to observe Leadbetter. A man in a dark overcoat stepped forward and placed a hand on the ex-minister, stopping the old man in his tracks. The man spoke to Leadbetter in hushed but urgent tones, seeming to berate the old man. Grey was about to step out and intercede when he saw Leadbetter say something in return. He shook his hands, palms upraised, as if explaining something. Then he pointed back at the Athenaeum. Both men glanced in that direction. Grey ducked his head back into the alleyway. When he glanced out again, he saw that Leadbetter and the shadowy figure had parted ways.