Dark Matter

“What could be more diverting for a mathematician than a code? What could be more intriguing for one who is philosophically adept than those hermetic signs of alchemy that accompanied the murders of Mister Kennedy and Mister Mercer?”

“True,” admitted Newton. “If only I had more data, I tell you I could solve this problem overnight. Just as I did the brachistochrone.”

“Perhaps that is the point, Doctor,” said I. “Perhaps you are not meant to solve the code. Perhaps it means nothing at all. Or perhaps God does not mean you to unravel it.” I was merely using God’s name to discover if it still sounded convincing on my own tongue; but also to provoke him, for I was become increasingly ill-tempered in this conversation, which was a combination of a broken heart and no sleep.

Newton stood up suddenly, as if he had received the effect of a clyster.

“God does not mean me to unravel it,” he breathed excitedly. “Or someone else that does play at being God who is the architect of this design.” And snatching off his wig he walked about the office muttering to himself: “This will make the pot boil, Mister Ellis. This will make the pot boil.”

“What pot is that, sir?”

Newton tapped his forefinger against his temples. “Why,this pot, of course. Oh, what a fool I have been. Too much conceit, that’s what does it. That this should happen to me. Me. I should have been more mindful of Occam’s razor.”

“No more things should be presumed to exist than are absolutely necessary,” I construed.

“Exactly so. It is the principle of William of Occam, our brilliant and rebellious countryman who wrote vigorously against the Pope, as well as much idle metaphysics. He was a great freethinker, Ellis, who helped to separate questions of reason from questions of faith, and thus laid the foundations for our modern scientific method. Upon his razorlike maxim we shall cut this case into exactly two halves. Fetch me some cider. My head has a sudden need for apples.”

I poured some cider for my master, which he drank as if he really did seek to stimulate his brain. Then, seating himself again, and taking up pen and paper, he wrote down what he called the bare bones of the case. After which he put more metaphorical ashes upon his head and declared himself properly penitent for his earlier lack of apprehension. And yet I thought that his avowed lack of earlier understanding could hardly compare with my own that still continued unabated; at least until he spoke again.

“This is the second time today I have found myself at fault,” he reported. “And I am right glad that only you are here to witness it, Ellis, and not that damned German or that awful dwarf, Hooke. They would be delighted to see me so easily tricked.”

“Tricked? How so?”

“Why, it’s just as you said yourself. I have been diverted, have I not? Cast your mind back a few months, Ellis. What case were we investigating when Mister Kennedy was killed?”

“Those golden guineas,” said I. “The ones that were done with the d’orure moulu process. A case that remains unsolved.”

“You see, you were quite right. I was diverted. As someone meant me to be diverted. Someone who knew me well, I think. For those hermetick clues were for my benefit. And I now believe that those other messages—the ones that were enciphered—were for someone else.”

“Then why did we first find the cipher when Mister Kennedy was murdered?” I asked. “Alongside other hermetic clues?”

“Because I believe that whoever killed Kennedy had no understanding of the code,” explained Newton. “For there is much that is contradictious between our first enciphered message and the second; and yet the underlying elements are the same.”

“Are you suggesting that Major Mornay’s murderer did not kill the other three?”

“Merely that he did not kill Kennedy and Mercer. For only those two murders have the peculiar alchemical flourishes that were designed to intrigue me. Whoever killed Major Mornay only wanted him dead and out of my sight.”

“But why?”

“We should need to solve the cipher to know that,” said Newton.

“So you believe that whoever killed Kennedy and Mercer merely wanted to lead you away from those golden guineas.”

“Kennedy was killed because he was set to watch Mercer. Mercer was killed because he was being watched. Because he might have given away the names of his fellow coiners.”

“This is most confusing,” said I.

“On the contrary,” said Newton. “My hypothesis agrees with the phenomena very well, and I confess I begin to see the light.” He nodded firmly. “Yes, I think it very probable because a great part of what we have seen easily flows from that which would otherwise seem inexplicable.”

“If you do not think that Major Mornay’s killer is responsible for the deaths of Kennedy and Mercer,” said I, “what do you think of him for George Macey’s murder?”

“I like him very well for it. But there is no evidence. Therefore I can frame no hypothesis. In truth I have much neglected what I do know about George Macey.”