Transformation

"Transformation" by Robert Barr is a thought-provoking novel that delves into themes of identity, change, and the human experience. The story follows characters as they navigate personal and societal transformations, exploring the complexities of relationships and self-discovery. Through Barr’s rich prose and compelling narrative, the book invites readers to reflect on the nature of transformation in their own lives, challenging them to consider what it means to truly evolve. With a blend of emotional depth and philosophical insight, "Transformation" is both a captivating read and a profound meditation on the journey of life.

• Short story

								
If you grind castor sugar with an equal quantity of chlorate of potash,
the result is an innocent-looking white compound, sweet to the taste,
and sometimes beneficial in the case of a sore throat. But if you dip a
glass rod into a small quantity of sulphuric acid, and merely touch the
harmless-appearing mixture with the wet end of the rod, the dish which
contains it becomes instantly a roaring furnace of fire, vomiting forth
a fountain of burning balls, and filling the room with a dense, black,
suffocating cloud of smoke.

So strange a combination is that mystery which we term Human Nature,
that a touch of adverse circumstance may transform a quiet, peaceable,
law-abiding citizen into a malefactor whose heart is filled with a
desire for vengeance, stopping at nothing to accomplish it.

In a little narrow street off the broad Rue de Rennes, near the great
terminus of Mont-Parnasse, stood the clock-making shop of the brothers
Delore. The window was filled with cheap clocks, and depending from a
steel spring attached to the top of the door was a bell, which rang
when any one entered, for the brothers were working clockmakers,
continually busy in the room at the back of the shop, and trade in the
neighbourhood was not brisk enough to allow them to keep an assistant.
The brothers had worked amicably in this small room for twenty years,
and were reported by the denizens of that quarter of Paris to be
enormously rich. They were certainly contented enough, and had plenty
of money for their frugal wants, as well as for their occasional
exceedingly mild dissipations at the neighbouring café. They had always
a little money for the church, and a little money for charity, and no
one had ever heard either of them speak a harsh word to any living
soul, and least of all to each other. When the sensitively adjusted
bell at the door announced the arrival of a possible customer, Adolph
left his work and attended to the shop, while Alphonse continued his
task without interruption. The former was supposed to be the better
business man of the two, while the latter was admittedly the better
workman. They had a room over the shop, and a small kitchen over the
workroom at the back; but only one occupied the bedroom above, the
other sleeping in the shop, as it was supposed that the wares there
displayed must have formed an almost irresistible temptation to any
thief desirous of accumulating a quantity of time-pieces. The brothers
took week-about at guarding the treasures below, but in all the twenty
years no thief had yet disturbed their slumbers.

One evening, just as they were about to close the shop and adjourn
together to the café, the bell rang, and Adolph went forward to learn
what was wanted. He found waiting for him an unkempt individual of
appearance so disreputable, that he at once made up his mind that here
at last was the thief for whom they had waited so long in vain. The
man's wild, roving eye, that seemed to search out every corner and
cranny in the place and rest nowhere for longer than a second at a
time, added to Delore's suspicions. The unsavoury visitor was evidently
spying out the land, and Adolph felt certain he would do no business
with him at that particular hour, whatever might happen later.

The customer took from under his coat, after a furtive glance at the
door of the back room, a small paper-covered parcel, and, untying the
string somewhat hurriedly, displayed a crude piece of clockwork made of
brass. Handing it to Adolph, he said, "How much would it cost to make a
dozen like that?"

Adolph took the piece of machinery in his hand and examined it. It was
slightly concave in shape, and among the wheels was a strong spring.
Adolph wound up this spring, but so loosely was the machinery put
together that when he let go the key, the spring quickly uncoiled
itself with a whirring noise of the wheels.

"This is very bad workmanship," said Adolph.

"It is," replied the man, who, notwithstanding his poverty-stricken
appearance, spoke like a person of education. "That is why I come to
you for better workmanship."

"What is it used for?"

The man hesitated for a moment. "It is part of a clock," he said at
last.

"I don't understand it. I never saw a clock made like this."

"It is an alarm attachment," replied the visitor, with some impatience.
"It is not necessary that you should understand it. All I ask is, can
you duplicate it and at what price?"

"But why not make the alarm machinery part of the clock? It would be
much cheaper than to make this and then attach it to a clock."

The man made a gesture of annoyance.

"Will you answer my question?" he said gruffly.

"I don't believe you want this as part of a clock. In fact, I think I
can guess why you came in here," replied Adolph, as innocent as a child
of any correct suspicion of what the man was, thinking him merely a
thief, and hoping to frighten him by this hint of his own shrewdness.

His visitor looked loweringly at him, and then with a quick eye, seemed
to measure the distance from where he stood to the pavement, evidently
meditating flight.

"I will see what my brother says about this," said Adolph. But before
Adolph could call his brother, the man bolted and was gone in an
instant, leaving the mechanism in the hands of the bewildered
clockmaker.

Alphonse, when he heard the story of their belated customer, was even
more convinced than his brother of the danger of the situation. The man
was undoubtedly a thief, and the bit of clockwork merely an excuse for
getting inside the fortress. The brothers, with much perturbation,
locked up the establishment, and instead of going to their usual café,
they betook themselves as speedily as possible to the office of the
police, where they told their suspicions and gave a description of the
supposed culprit. The officer seemed much impressed by their story.

"Have you brought with you the machine he showed you?"

"No. It is at the shop," said Adolph. "It was merely an excuse to get
inside, I am sure of that, for no clockmaker ever made it."

"Perhaps," replied the officer. "Will you go and bring it? Say nothing
of this to any one you meet, but wrap the machine in paper and bring it
as quickly and as quietly as you can. I would send a man with you, only
I do not wish to attract attention."

Before morning the man, who gave his name as Jacques Picard, was
arrested, but the authorities made little by their zeal. Adolph Delore
swore positively that Picard and his visitor were the same person, but
the prisoner had no difficulty in proving that he was in a café two
miles away at the time the visitor was in Delore's shop, while Adolph
had to admit that the shop was rather dark when the conversation about
the clockwork took place. Picard was ably defended, and his advocate
submitted that, even if he had been in the shop as stated by Delore,

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