Chaloner made room for him on the seat. ‘Wiseman is a loyal friend, sir. He thinks he is helping you fight Bristol with these tales.’
‘Well, I wish he would not. I do not want a reputation for being a bully-boy. I–’
The Earl broke off when the door opened a second time. Outraged that someone should dare enter without his permission, he was about to surge to his feet and say so, when Chaloner silenced him with a warning hand on his shoulder. The Lord Chancellor’s room was about to be burgled, and the spy was keen to know by whom.
As the uninvited guests set about closing the door and discussing who should do what, Chaloner drew the curtain in a way that concealed the window seat completely. When he was sure the Earl was not going to give them away with an indignant challenge, he moved until he could see what was happening through a moth-hole in the material.
Two men had invaded Clarendon’s domain. The first was tall, with an unfashionably bushy beard and a puce coat that was stretched unattractively tight across his ample paunch. The second was an angular courtier, who wore tight yellow breeches and matching hose, which made his long, thin legs look like those of a heron. While the bearded man stood at the door and kept watch, Yellow Legs rifled through the desk. The Earl was outraged by the presumption, and started to stand again. Chaloner stopped him.
‘We need to see what they are doing.’
‘We can see what they are doing,’ hissed the Earl, his voice loud enough to make Chaloner glance through the moth-hole in alarm. Fortunately, it coincided with the start of some music in the garden below, and the burglars did not hear. ‘That fellow is George Willys, one of Bristol’s creatures, and he has his filthy hands in my private correspondence.’
Chaloner was grateful the chamber piece wafting through the window was being played with such gusto. ‘We should see what they want specifically.’
‘But Willys will mean me harm – he is Bristol’s man to the core. That bearded fellow is Surgeon Johnson, who also supports Bristol. He–’
Chaloner stopped him. The burglars were talking, and he wanted to hear what they said.
‘Hurry up,’ snapped Johnson. ‘We do not have all day. I am not sure Bristol was right when he said Clarendon had gone home early – he may come back to do some work.’
‘He will be exhausted after trouncing that Dutchman,’ said Willys. ‘However, I am afraid there is nothing in his desk, except papers referring to affairs of state.’
‘Those are no good,’ said Johnson impatiently. ‘Bristol wants us to find something that shows he embezzles public money. We need bills or letters from shady merchants – Matthew Webb, for example. He is the greatest villain in London, and no upright man should ever have dealings with him.’
‘Webb is dead,’ said Willys.
A crafty expression crossed Johnson’s face. ‘Then he is not in a position to say what letters he received, is he? We shall send him something from Clarendon. That should satisfy Bristol.’
‘Actually, it will not,’ came another voice. Chaloner experienced a sickening lurch of shock when he recognised Scot, still dressed as his Irish scholar.
It was Johnson who recovered his wits first. ‘What do you mean?’ he demanded. ‘Of course Bristol will be happy with evidence that implicates his rival in something sordid.’
‘I am sure that is true,’ said Scot. ‘However, he will not be pleased when the “evidence” is exposed as a forgery, and he is blamed. Now, I suggest you stop whatever it is you are doing and leave. This kind of behaviour is beneath professional men, and you should be ashamed of yourselves.’
‘Who are you to lecture us?’ demanded Johnson. ‘An Irish squire, only interested in flowers!’
‘His name is Terrell,’ whispered the Earl to Chaloner. ‘He is only pretending to be a scholar, and is actually one of Williamson’s spies, but I cannot recall his real name. Perhaps I was never told. It was an unfortunate name to choose, though, because there is a dishonest fishmonger called Peter Terrell.’
‘Spymaster Williamson sent me here,’ said Scot coldly to the two burglars. ‘He heard men who should know better were in the process of breaking into the office of a government official, and he ordered me to stop them before they did anything rash. If you do not leave immediately, he will have you charged with treason.’
Johnson did not like the word treason, and neither did Willys. Both were out of the door in a flash. Scot closed the door behind them, and for one awful moment, Chaloner thought he intended to resume the search himself, but he merely closed the drawers Willys had opened, and set all to rights. When he was ready to leave, Chaloner motioned for the Earl to stay where he was and emerged from behind the curtain. Scot jumped in alarm, then grinned his relief.
‘You startled me! Did you leave this office open deliberately, to entice that pair to break the law? You certainly succeeded in springing your trap – they were in like moths at a flame.’
‘They came of their own volition.’
‘Then why are you still here? Are you hoping to prevent Eaffrey from seeing Behn? I would not meddle, if I were you. You will not succeed in parting them, and she will resent the interference.’
‘Why did you let Willys and Johnson go? You caught them red-handed.’
Scot nodded. ‘Thanks to Wiseman – he told the Spymaster what was afoot. Apparently, he overheard them planning the escapade in a public room, which goes to underline how incompetent they are. However, there is no point in prosecuting them – they will deny all, and Williamson thinks Bristol might use the incident to make similar accusations against Clarendon.’
‘They would not be true.’
‘I know, but dirt will stick, as it always does. Williamson says it will be better for Clarendon if this distasteful farce is quietly forgotten, and he is almost certainly right.’
‘What would you have done if they had found something? They were considering fabricating documents, as you must have heard.’
Scot nodded. ‘Then I would have marched them to Williamson and let him deal with the mess. God help us, Chaloner! All I want is for my brother to be released so I can take the next ship to Surinam. I am weary of petty politics and incompetents like Johnson and Willys.’
As soon as Scot left, the Earl emerged from behind the curtain. He was deeply unsettled by what he had witnessed, but relieved to know that Williamson and his spies were capable of being objective. He told Brodrick, who had come looking for him, to summon a locksmith first thing in the morning, and wanted a guard posted at his door day and night.
Brodrick had a viol. ‘Greeting’s,’ he explained, when he saw Chaloner looking at it. ‘Play me a scale.’
Chaloner took the instrument, running appreciative fingers over the silken wood. He grasped the bow but found, to his horror, that the splint limited the movement of his left hand, and he could not produce the right notes, no matter how hard he tried.
‘Wiseman said you would be unable to perform,’ said Brodrick, regarding him unhappily. ‘Greeting will be pleased, although I shall be sorry to lose you.’
‘This thing will be off within the hour,’ Chaloner said hastily. ‘My landlord will have some tool that will work. He has implements for everything.’
‘Wiseman claims amateur removal is impossible,’ said Brodrick. ‘It needs some special chemical to dissolve it, apparently, and he says he will not apply it for at least a month – for your own good. I am sorry, Heyden but I need everyone at his best tonight, because the Queen will be listening.’