Chapter Eleven: The Broken Demonstration
At ten o’clock the workshop filled with men wearing clean coats.
Silas had invited two local merchants to witness the demonstration.
Nathaniel Price stood beside the main bench with his arms folded.
Curtis had brought the machine from the kiln before dawn.
It stood on a wooden frame with a large wheel, a cutting arm, and a series of grooved blocks.
Isaiah recognized the pieces he had unloaded from the wagon.
Gideon stood near the back wall, holding a box of tools.
Pritchard watched the machine with obvious unease.
Silas addressed the visitors.
“Gentlemen, this device will cut identical joints in a fraction of the time required by hand.”
Price examined the wheel.
“Who designed the sequence of blocks?”
Silas smiled.
“My workshop.”
“Then your workshop should be able to explain the sequence.”
Curtis stepped forward.
“The operation is simple.”
He inserted a block and began turning the crank.
The wheel moved smoothly for three rotations.
On the fourth, the cutting arm shuddered.
Gideon stepped forward.
“Stop the wheel.”
Curtis ignored him.
The arm jerked again.
Isaiah saw the narrow wooden tooth beginning to split.
“Stop it now,” he shouted.
Curtis turned faster, trying to push through the resistance.
The tooth snapped.
A wooden fragment struck the wall above the visitors’ heads.
Price ducked.
Pritchard grabbed the frame to keep it from overturning.
Isaiah caught Gideon by the shoulder and pulled him away from the cutting arm.
Curtis released the crank.
The wheel spun backward and came to a halt with a loud crack.
Silas stood motionless.
Price straightened his coat.
“Is that the machine you intended to sell me?”
Curtis pointed at Gideon.
“The boy cut the piece incorrectly.”
Gideon stared at him.
“You ordered the groove reversed.”
Curtis raised his hand.
Price stepped between them.
“Do not touch him.”
Silas recovered his voice.
“The mechanism needs adjustment.”
“It needs its inventor,” Price replied.
A murmur spread through the room.
Lenora appeared at the doorway.
Her gray dress was creased, and her hair had come loose.
“Mr. Price,” she said.
Silas turned.
“What are you doing here?”
“I need to speak with our guest.”
“Not now.”
“Now.”
The room went quiet.
Lenora looked directly at Price.
“Mrs. Fenwick is being held at the old kiln.”
Silas took a step toward her.
“Lenora.”
She did not look at him.
“She has been there for weeks.”
Curtis moved toward the side door.
Isaiah blocked his path.
Curtis stopped inches away.
“You will regret that,” he whispered.
Isaiah answered without raising his voice.
“I have regretted your presence for years.”
