James, a proud valedictorian, after addressing his mentors and fellow students with modest thanks, sat down again amid undercurrents of student mutterings.

With the sudden knowledge that he’d been found out by a few of his peers, the taint of his deliberate deceit brought on a bout of acid indigestion. The path to his academic success started when he’d created a roller with sticky teeth which he’d called, a fibre sprocket. James claimed that this instrument could remove all manner of dust, hairs and fluff imbedded in gentlemen’s clothing.

Beside him Arthur sat still. Did not look at his best friend. Nor spoke or uttered words of congratulation. Then, like a hiss, he heard his friend say, ‘Traitor. Bastard.’ James shifted in his seat, unable to leave without bringing attention to himself. ‘That was my invention,’ his friend said out of the corner of his mouth. ‘That was my sprocket but you’ve left me with nothing to prove it.’

At the end of the evening, James left the hall and hurried through a back exit into a cold night. ‘James Harridan!’ a voice called out to him.

‘Harrington,’ James corrected a tall shadow emerging from shadows into full moon light.

‘Excuse my faux pas, Harrington.’ The tall middle-aged gentleman gave a slight bow, his black cape sweeping the floor as he did so. ‘I’d like to offer you a position, young man. I’m looking for a someone who can move in particular circles with ease.’ The gentleman smiled. ‘I’m searching for a human chameleon.’ James shifted on his feet, uncertain how to respond. As if noticing his discomfort, the gentleman explained, ‘I need a person who’d steal another’s idea without conscience.’ A pause and beyond the university’s ancient walls, the sounds of horses hooves clipped clopped over cobbles.

‘Well, Mr….’ A business card whipped out from under the cloak and James took it. ‘Well, Mr. Sylvester Richman.’

‘I will pay you handsomely for any invention or creation you bring to me, Mr. Harridan.’ This time James omitted to correct this mistake. ‘I will also pay you a generous monthly wage and, of course, travelling expenses et cetera.’

‘A very inviting offer, Mr. Richman,’ James said.

‘Do you enjoy travel, Mr. Harridan?’

‘I have these feelings of wanderlust from time to time,’ James admitted.

‘Then your first venture, if you agree to my proposal, is to sail to New York where I’m told a gentleman there is working on a new way to solving crimes.’

‘Interesting,’ James replied.

‘Fingerprints, Mr. Harridan.’ James blinked. ‘The concept is a fascinating one, don’t you think?’ James nodded. ‘One day soon, Mr. Harridan, my name and the creation that you will have so cleverly purloined will put fear into the hearts of the under classes. They will come to understand, to their cost, that crime does not pay.’

After agreeing to the offer and shaking the hand of his benefactor, James returned to his rooms to study the tips of his fingers.