Page 81 of Miss Moriarty, I Presume?
“In theory we should manage it easily enough,” replied Lord Ingram. He was on his haunches next to the desk, so that his eyes were level with the ticket stubs. “The dot at the end of SEE CONDITIONS ON BACK is film. Mr. Marbleton will have glued it on. If we place the ticket in water and let it sit for some time, the dot will come off the ticket and we can then place it on a glass slide.
He looked up at the three women who surrounded him. “But in practice it could be harrowing. The dot is minuscule. There is a good bit of soot on the stub. We could very well lose sight of the film amidst other debris once everything starts coming off the ticket.”
But they had to proceed.
Mrs. Watson and Lord Ingram returned to Mrs. Watson’s house for a supply of creamware finger bowls that Mrs. Watson had never used at her dinner table. Charlotte brought out her microscope. Livia, perspiring with nerves, snipped out a tiny square of the stub containing the film dot.
When Mrs. Watson and Lord Ingram came back, they brought not only what they had gone for, but a basket of sandwiches that Madame Gascoigne had thoughtfully prepared.
The square Livia had clipped, barely one eighth of an inch on each side, was put to soak in lukewarm water inside a finger bowl. As the company waited, they tucked into the sandwiches. Mrs. Watson also filled Livia in on what had happened at the Garden of Hermopolis.
Livia, agape, turned an accusatory look Charlotte’s way. “You didn’t tell me any of the more interesting events.”
Charlotte only said, “Now you know everything.”
Though the ticket stub had been reduced in size, the soaking water still grew murky. But they knew where the film dot was and were able to verify that it was still in place before transferring the tiny piece of paper to a finger bowl filled with clean water.
The ticket went through three changes of bowls. At last, the dot of film, now under constant surveillance, detached from the paper.
Even the finest pair of tweezers Charlotte owned were still too large at the tips, so she brought Livia a needle. Livia, her teeth clenched tight, used the blunt end of the needle to chase the much-too-small dot around the finger bowl.
At last she closed in on her quarry.
“Bloody hell, it fell through the eye!”
And she could not even care that she’d sworn not only out loud, but in mixed company.
On her third attempt she lifted the dot out but it adhered to the needle. Charlotte patiently applied water with a tiny dropper, in the hope that it could be rinsed off onto the slide below.
The vein at Livia’s temple felt as if it had already burst.
“Let me try something different,” said Charlotte.
She plucked a strand of hair off her head and slowly skimmed it down the side of the needle. Livia held her breath. Even though the waiting slide was placed on large plate, the least bit of excess force and the scarcely visible dot could land somewhere on the carpet, never to be found again.
“Is it off the needle?” came Mrs. Watson’s muffled voice. She sounded as if she were biting her own knuckles.
“I think so,” answered Charlotte, “but it’s now stuck on the hair. However, I can place the hair on the slide.”
After the addition of a larger drop of water, Charlotte placed a smaller piece of glass—a coverslip—on top of the slide and very gently pressed down. The dot, pressured by the liquid, separated from the hair. Ever so cautiously, she pulled out the strand of hair, leaving the infinitesimal dot in place.
At last she pushed the two pieces of glass together.
Everyone exhaled.
Livia wiped at her damp forehead. “My nerves are shattered.”
“But now this can go on the microscope’s stage,” said Charlotte.
The doorbell rang sharply.
Everyone stood still, listening. Livia prayed that it was only a child’s prank and there would not be a repetition.
The doorbell rang again, even more impatiently.
“You aren’t expecting any clients, are you, Charlotte?” Livia squeaked.
“The only client I have at the moment is Moriarty,” answered Charlotte. “I wonder what he wants.”
