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Chapter 1074: Misfortunes Never Come Singly

Sean stepped toward Watson and spoke in a low voice. "The burns are exceptionally severe, covering his entire body. I am afraid there is little more I can do than what Mr. Brusque has already managed."

From the bed in the corner, Rice's low moans drifted over once more. "God... please... forgive... me..."

Watson frowned, nodding slowly. "That is truly a shame."

Brusque stood to the side and said bluntly, "In that case, may I allow my patients to rest now?"

Colonel Watson waited for Frank, who had escorted them out, to return to the clinic. He turned his head toward Hope. "It seems I was overthinking things. Now, we must find another way to ensure Engine180 is completed according to schedule."

"In truth, you could afford to be a bit more optimistic," Hope replied. "All the blueprints and data are intact, and Mr. Watt has already taken over the development work. As you know, he is a master who has been honored with the Supreme Louis Prize."

Although Watson sneered at the French award, the fact that it came from an enemy nation only served to highlight Watt's extraordinary talent.

His expression softened slightly. "Regarding the adjustments to the research and development, please submit a report to the Navy Board.

"Now, let us pay a visit to the steam engine company."

Back inside Brusque's clinic, everyone breathed a long, collective sigh of relief.

At Brusque's signal, two assistants carefully moved the "Sandel" on the bed onto a stretcher and carried him out of the room.

Simultaneously, a hidden compartment beneath the bed was pushed open, and the real Sandel crawled out from within.

Brusque immediately began applying ointment to Sandel's body before meticulously wrapping him in bandages.

Indeed, the person Sean had just examined was a London worker named Cruz. The previous week, he had suffered extensive burns across his entire body when a boiling water pump ruptured at a chemical plant.

In an era with such little regard for safety, victims of severe burns were not uncommon. The Security Bureau had identified three candidates who met their requirements, ultimately selecting Cruz because his build most closely resembled Sandel's.

The Security Bureau had exploited a common flaw in human psychology: the tendency to rely on established patterns.

Watson and Hope had previously seen Sandel and Rice covered in bandages in that room, so they subconsciously assumed the men on those same beds were the same people.

Sandel's voice, coming from the hidden compartment just before they entered, had further reinforced the belief in their minds that 'Sandel is right there on the bed.'

Then, Rice's groaning from the other bed served as another confirmation: 'This one over here is Sandel.'

Doctor Sean did not actually know Sandel. Even if Hope had described Sandel's appearance to him beforehand, it would have been nearly impossible to identify him through a thick layer of medicinal ointment.

Even so, to be safe, Brusque had not allowed him to lift the bandages covering the fake Sandel's eyes.

As for Rice, that actually was the man himself. Had Sean truly examined him, the ruse would have been exposed instantly.

But in that situation, who would pay attention to an obscure junior technician?

Especially after Sean saw the horrific state "Sandel" was in, he naturally assumed the technician who suffered the same accident would be in no better condition.

Of course, if Sean had insisted on checking Rice, Brusque would have feigned outrage, telling him not to overstep his bounds.

The entire plan was extremely risky, yet it left behind almost no cracks for discovery.

Once Cruz passed away—his injuries were untreatable by the standards of the age, and his family had handed him over to a pharmaceutical factory for 'burn ointment testing' in exchange for five pounds sterling—there would be no one left alive who knew the truth outside the Security Bureau.

With the confirmation from the British Navy Board, Sandel could easily return to France for "medical treatment." Given his seemingly horrific injuries, the British wouldn't even bother keeping an eye on him—they likely expected him to breathe his last before he even reached Paris.

On the other side of things, Watt had resumed his position as the company's chief technician and immediately began studying the technical blueprints Sandel had left behind.

He was quickly struck with admiration for the creativity of this former "second-class apprentice." The design used a return-flame multi-tube boiler, which could drastically increase the heat conduction efficiency of coal combustion—by more than twenty percent compared to traditional methods.

It was no wonder this steam engine boasted such high power. Watt began to feel secretly relieved; this brilliant design now belonged to him. Once Engine180 was successfully developed, who would remember a poor wretch named Sandel who had contributed over ninety percent of the work?

In reality, the steam engine had not been designed by Sandel alone, but was the collective effort of over a dozen technicians at the French United Steam Engine Company. Although it had ultimately been proven to have a fatal flaw, there was no denying that the design was exquisite and ingenious.

In fact, the design was quite similar to the short-cylinder steam engine later invented by the famous French technician Marc Seguin in the early 19th century. Notably, Seguin's great-grandson would go on to found the famous French Safran Group.

Watt spent several nights familiarizing himself with Sandel's designs. Afterward, he had the company allocate eight thousand pounds sterling and gathered the technicians in the experimental workshop to begin replicating Engine180.

On the second day after construction began on the new Engine180, a manager responsible for company procurement rushed into Boulton's office, drenched in sweat and looking frantic. "Mr. General Manager! The Hasman Machine Factory in the Netherlands suffered a fire half a month ago. It is now on the brink of bankruptcy!"

Boulton felt a sudden wave of dizziness upon hearing the news.

The Hasman Machine Factory was the Dutch company that supplied his firm with steam pressure gauges.

Among the various steam engines his company currently produced, every model except for the standard-pressure version Watt had first developed required those Dutch pressure gauges.

Boulton forced himself to stay calm, grabbing the manager's arm. "The scale of that company shouldn't be very large. We can inject capital to prevent them from going under."

The manager's face twisted in a grimace. "I'm afraid that is impossible. I saw their factory site; it has been burned to a pile of rubble. It is said that Mr. Karis van Manhas, the owner of the factory, was inside at the time and likely lost his life."

Boulton stood frozen for several seconds before hurriedly asking, "How long will our stock of pressure gauges last?"

"Less than a month, Mr. General Manager."

Boulton felt another bout of dizziness. He shouted to his assistant outside the door, "Karis, have all the senior technicians come to my office immediately!"

Three hours later.

Boulton looked with a grim face at Bell, the technician currently most familiar with the company's high-pressure steam engines. "Are you saying there is no substitute for the Dutch pressure gauges?"

Bell nodded nervously. "Our steam engines were originally designed to match the specific characteristics of the pressure gauges from the Hasman factory."

Watt cut in immediately. "Then change the design as quickly as possible!"

"That..." Bell whispered, "even if we change the design, there isn't a single product available in the entire country that can withstand pressures over 0.5 megapascals."

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