The Loving Cup by Winston Graham Page A

sketches on top of the rest and shut the lid.'Except for taking out occasional things he needed from day to day, he had not used the chest. Now he lifted the lid again and fumbled about among the fish hooks, the crayons, the half-finished sketches, the old newspapers, and came out with a cutting from the Sherborne Mercury of early 1803. It was the first cutting he had clipped out to keep for himself.
    In addition to the many attempts that have been made to construct carriages to run without horses, a method has lately been tried at the hamlet of Camborne in Cornwall which seems to promise success. A carriage has been constructed by a Mr Trevithick, containing a small steam engine, the force of which was found sufficient, upon trial, to impel the carriage, containing several persons amounting to a total weight of 30 cwt, against a hill of.considerable steepness, at the rate of four miles an hour; and upon a level road at eight or nine miles an hour.
    Just that. Just that; nothing more; no attempt to speculate or to elaborate; an item of news, of no greater importance, it seemed, than the one following, which reported a tithe feast in Probus.
    Jeremy smoothed out the newspaper, which was already yellowed with age, put it on the dressing table, fished in the chest again. A half dozen cuttings were in his hand. One was a flippant announcement from the London Observer of 17 July, 1808.
    The most astonishing machine ever invented is a steam engine with four wheels so constructed that she will with ease and without other aid, gallop from 15 to 20 miles an hour in any circle. She weighs 8 tons and is matched at the next Newmarket meeting against three horses to run 24 hours, starting at the same time. She is now in training on Lady Southampton's estate adjoining the New Road near Bedford Nursery, St Pancras. We understand she will be exposed for public inspection from Tuesday next.
    And on to the end of it Jeremy had pinned one of the highly coloured admission cards they had all bought — he and his father and his mother - admission cards to go into the compound on that early autumn day of the same year. Printed in pink, it showed a drawing of the engine, called Catch Me Who Can, and was headed 'TREVITHICK's Portable Steam Engine. Mechanical Power Subduing Animal Speed.'
    It had not lasted, that wonderful experiment. The engine had performed well but the rails had frequentl y given way. The number of people willing to pay a shilling admission, with the opportunity of a ride if they felt like risking it, had not been enough to defray expenses. The exhibition had closed. The moving steam engine, whether on rails or on road, was a freak, a sideshow without practical applications. It had best be forgot. Trevithick, from that day on, had decided to forget it.
    So who was this man writing from Wadebridge? Some amiable crank. Someone who had convinced himself that if you refined and heated tin long enough it would turn to gold, or thought that if you fixed bamboo-framed wings to your back you could fly. Cornwall was full of dotty inventors.
    Jeremy read the letter again. 'Combat wheel-spin?' It was perhaps not an irrational question, for many believed that insufficient traction could be obtained by wheels being forced round by pistons. The horse was the obvious example. Wheels were too smooth. But how out of date was this man? Did he not read the technical papers? Was it even necessary to reply, or did one just ignore the letter?
    He was saved the decision by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. A tap on the door. Unusual.
    'Come in.'
    His father entered, stooping in the doorway. Ross's gaunt face had an inscrutable but pleasant expression. He didn't often come up here.
    'Did you not hear the commotion?'
    'No. Bella? But she always makes a noise.'
    ‘I t seems we are waiting for you.'
    'Supper? Good.'
    'No, not supper ... Don't you need a light?' ‘I was just going to make one.'
    Ross said: 'This damned door is too low. Do you not often