Chaloner took his dagger and inserted it in the window frame, jiggling it until he had eased it open. He jerked out of sight when Sarah glanced up, then pushed it open a little wider when she turned her attention back to her reading.
‘So, we are agreed,’ Thurloe was saying. ‘You do nothing, and I will resolve the matter.’
‘No, we are not agreed!’ said Dalton in a furious whisper. ‘I do not agree.’
Thurloe made a placatory gesture to indicate the vintner was to calm himself. ‘If you become any more agitated, you will not need Tom Chaloner to give you away – you will do it yourself.’
Ingoldsby tossed almonds into his mouth. ‘You are worrying over nothing, Dalton. Kelyng is too stupid to reason sense into the mass of disparate facts he has unearthed, and you have already murdered that poor old woman – to cover tracks that did not exist.’
‘You should not have done that,’ said Thurloe, and Chaloner knew from the way his eyes bored into Dalton that he was angry about it. ‘It was totally unnecessary.’
‘It was totally stupid, too,’ said Ingoldsby, scoffing more nuts. ‘It was the needless murder of Pinchon that led Chaloner to draw the conclusions he did. Thurloe is right: we should leave this to him – he knows what he is doing, and you most certainly do not.’
‘I will not rest easy until Chaloner is dead,’ protested Dalton. ‘I should have put a knife in him at the Tower, but Robinson was watching. I knew I could not trust Bennet to see him quietly dispatched.’
Thurloe was livid. ‘Are you saying it was your idea to let the lion out? God’s grace, man! It might have savaged anyone. What were you thinking of?’
Dalton was unrepentant. ‘Bennet told me at a Royal Foundation conclave at St Paul’s on Thursday how he had almost killed Chaloner when he let the lion loose before – he had tied ropes across stairs and all sorts – so I asked him to try it again. I was in a panic, and did not think Wade would end up falling to his death. I am sorry. What more can I say?’
‘You are sorry?’ echoed Thurloe, appalled. ‘I–’
‘The Royal Foundation?’ interrupted Ingoldsby, cutting across him in horror. ‘Are you telling me Bennet is a member of the Royal Foundation? Ye gods! I thought it was an organisation that enrolled respectable men. We sit in company with the Queen, for Christ’s sake. I shall resign if he has been elected.’
Dalton grimaced. ‘His coins are silver, just like yours, and he was desperate to join us. But never mind him – I am more concerned with Chaloner. We are in danger as long as he lives. He tricked me into exposing my membership of the Seven, but he already knew about Thurloe’s.’
Thurloe rubbed his eyes. ‘Time is passing, and you should be on your way. Do as I say, Dalton, or I will go to Kelyng and tell him everything myself. You know me well enough to appreciate that this is not an idle threat.’
Ingoldsby reached across the table and grabbed Dalton by the lace at his throat. ‘And since that would harm me as well as you, I strongly recommend you do as he says. Do I make myself clear?’
Dalton nodded resentfully.
Ingoldsby released him and lowered his voice, indicating Sarah with a jerk of his thumb. ‘And next time, do not bring her with you. There should be three of us who know about this business, but thanks to you there are four. It was wholly unnecessary to confide in her.’
‘I beg to differ,’ said Dalton coldly. ‘Thurloe cares nothing for us, but he loves his sister. He will think twice about betraying us if he thinks she might come to harm, too.’
Thurloe’s face wore an expressionless mask that Chaloner thought made him look more dangerous than he had ever seen him. Had he been in Dalton’s position, he would have been seriously worried. Ingoldsby stood, took the last of the nuts and stalked towards the door. Before he opened it, he turned and spoke in a voice that carried enough menace to make Chaloner shiver.
‘None of this can be proven, and if you two keep your heads, we will come through it unscathed. But be warned: if you break and try to implicate me, I will fight with all I have. I will destroy you, your families and everything you hold dear, so think twice before your resolve weakens.’
A few moments later, Chaloner saw him stride across the courtyard and shout to the porters to let him out. Meanwhile, Dalton snatched his hat from a hook on the wall, and jammed it on his head in a way that suggested he was livid. Sarah set down her book and swung her cloak around her shoulders, while Chaloner recalled guiltily that her hat and wig were still stuffed behind the bed in his room.
Dalton turned to Thurloe. ‘I did the right thing by killing Mother Pinchon. I made everything safer.’
‘You did immeasurable damage,’ countered Thurloe coldly. ‘It was a bad decision and you precipitated a chain of events that brought two people I love into grave danger. I shall never forgive you for it, and I meant what I said just now: if you make any more mistakes, I will go to Kelyng. Leave Chaloner to me. I will do what is necessary to silence him.’
Dalton left without another word. Sarah kissed her brother’s cheek before she followed, and then Thurloe was alone. When he went to wash his face in the bowl of water that stood near the fire, Chaloner used the noise of splashing to cover the sound of the window opening further still. Then, when Thurloe’s face was buried in the linen he used for drying, he climbed inside.
‘You do not need to send armed horsemen after me this time,’ he said. ‘I have come to you.’
Thurloe jumped in alarm, then relaxed when he recognised the intruder. ‘Close the window, Tom. There is no need for us to freeze to death.’
Chaloner obliged, and Thurloe went to his usual place by the hearth. Chaloner remained standing, although he edged closer to the fire. It had been cold outside, and he was chilled through.
‘I tried,’ said Thurloe wearily. ‘I tried so very hard. Damn Dalton and his stupidity! I thought I could trust him, but fear has unhinged the fellow, and he threatens to destroy us all – including two people who should be nowhere near this mess – you and Sarah. I could kill him for it.’
‘The Seven,’ said Chaloner. ‘You, Dalton, the four regicides – Hewson, Barkstead, Livesay and Ingoldsby – and one other. Barkstead’s seven thousand pounds – his godly golden goose – was the money Swanson earned for revealing your identities. Swanson sent his letter, but the information never reached the King. Kelyng thinks you intercepted it at the General Letter Office.’
Thurloe nodded, and closed his eyes. ‘The duties of Postmaster General fell to me during the Protectorate – obviously, they sat well with my role as Spymaster – and it was my job to prevent such intelligence reaching our enemies. The gold had already been paid, but I was able to prevent the letter from reaching the wrong hands – just.’
‘I do not understand,’ said Chaloner. ‘Why would you become involved in such a thing?’
‘Because I was trying to preserve the Commonwealth. It was what I believed in. I did everything in my power to see it continue after the Protector’s death, but once Richard Cromwell had abdicated and Charles was invited home, I saw it was a lost cause and gave it up. The Seven operated only during the Commonwealth: we have done nothing since the King returned, and nor will we.’