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the return on my investment in the railway but I didn’t expect to have to help the rail company buy the canal company too! I shan’t see a return on that investment, I doubt. The canals are a dying business, if you ask me.’
    â€˜Well, it was bound to take time, my good man.’ Sir Francis swirled and sniffed the brandy in his glass. ‘You can’t blame the canal industry for putting up a fight. Their business has been hit hard since the railways came. Like it or not, buying up that stretch of canal was the quickest solution in the end.’
    â€˜Indeed, and it will ease at least some of the delays on the build if I can have access to Greenslade’s stone—and his masons—at short notice. But it still leaves me with a mighty headache. This project should have made me financially secure yet I fear it has the potential to destroy me.’ Barry shook his head and looked down into his glass. ‘It certainly causes me plenty of worry. I can see myself heading for Bedlam, like my poor old friend, Pugin.’
    â€˜I am sure you exaggerate, Sir Charles. But speaking of funds, how’s the bottom line looking on this project?’
    â€˜Disastrous. Do you really want to know?’
    â€˜Well, I can help to keep the wolves from your door more easily if I know what I’m defending. You realise I can put in a good word for you in Parliament.’
    Barry sat, as if the financial burden was physically weighing him down. ‘I won the bid based on an estimated project cost just short of £725,000.’ He paused and looked Throckmorton in the eye. ‘At the latest review, we are already over £2 million.’
    â€˜Hell’s teeth, Sir Charles!’ Throckmorton swallowed hard.
    Barry reminded Throckmorton of the delays and huge additional expense caused by the problems with ventilation. After the fire that had destroyed the original building in 1834, Barry had been asked to ensure that the building could breathe properly. He had, on Parliament’s advice, been required to bring in a ventilation expert, who had amended his drawings to include a 300-foot high tower above the Central Lobby. The tower would act as a chimney, the expert had assured him, drawing up stale air and allowing it to escape through vents in its spire. But his design didn’t take into account the direction in which the stale air would flow. MPs constantly complained about the cooking smells and the dreadful reek of manure that wafted by from the kitchens and nearby stables. As a result, Barry was forced to find another solution—and another ventilation expert.
    â€˜Then there was the problem with the bells for the Clock Tower,’ Barry added. ‘Do you recollect? The casts kept cracking. The workshop had never had to make anything of that size before. Then of course I had to find a solution to stop the limestone on the outer walls from decaying in all the blessed London smog. All these things have all added up, you know. Not that any excuse seems to wash with the Treasury. You’re aware that they are trying to cut my fees, I suppose?’
    Sir Francis remained silent.
    â€˜They are refusing to pay anything beyond the fees I originally quoted—but those were based on a six-year project time span. Next year it will be twenty years since we laid that first foundation stone, but no one can blame me for over-running this far. It’s not fair that I should be so heavily penalised.’
    â€˜Yes, yes, I know. I understand. And other people will too, Sir Charles, I will do my best to make sure of that. Besides, name me an architect who could have done this any quicker.’
    â€˜Thank you, Sir Francis. I am for ever in your debt,’ said Barry, raising his glass to the MP.
    Throckmorton inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement, then added, ‘But take my advice as a friend, Sir Charles. If there is even the slightest chance that something else could go wrong,