‘A man who has visited him before – an ugly, squat fellow with a scar on his neck. He was knifed in the back, probably early in the evening, when I was out at White Hall. The corpse was gone by this morning.’
‘Gone where?’
She shook her head. ‘Perhaps Johan dropped it in the river under cover of darkness.’ She fought back tears. ‘I want William, Tom! And I want him now!’
‘I will look for him this afternoon,’ he said soothingly, wishing he could take her in his arms and give her the comfort of a hug. ‘Do not worry – he will not have gone far.’
‘I love him,’ she whispered. ‘And I cannot imagine life without him. I know you considered him as a suspect for Webb’s murder, because he left the Guinea Company dinner early and declined to explain himself. But you know why now: he came to see me.’
He smiled at the notion. ‘He was never a suspect! I was bemused by the inconsistencies in his story, but he is not the kind of man to kill and let others hang for the crime. I do not understand why he declined to confide in me, though. We have shared far more sensitive secrets in the past.’
‘He did not understand it, either, which has made him worry all the more about the way our occupation has begun to warp his judgement. He trusts you with his life, but lied instinctively when you asked questions. It taught him something about himself that he did not like.’
‘It will not be for much longer,’ said Chaloner. ‘The Lord Chancellor told me today that Thomas will be released in a few days. This time next week, you will all be on a ship sailing for Surinam. A big, happy family – you and Scot, Behn, Alice and Thomas. And perhaps even Temple, too.’
Eaffrey lowered her voice further, choosing to ignore the mockery in his voice. ‘William was going to tell Alice he was taking her to Surinam last night – without Temple. She is a strong lady, and I am afraid she might have … ’
‘Alice would never harm him. It is a fiercely close family, no matter who wants to marry whom.’
‘Temple, then. He will not want to lose his wealthy widow. And then there is Johan, who courts his fat ladies, but hates the thought of me seeing anyone else.’
‘I assume you are having second thoughts about marrying him now?’
‘William is, but I do not know how else we can secure a future for our child. However, the more I come to know Johan, the less I understand him. I am used to clandestine dealings – for obvious reasons – but he has far more than a merchant should. He writes letters in a complicated cipher that I cannot break, and there is an air of controlled violence about him. He would never hurt a woman, but I fear for the men who cross him, including you. And I am afraid that he might have done something to William.’
‘Behn is a lumbering brute,’ said Chaloner confidently. ‘He could never best Scot.’
Eaffrey’s face was a mask of unhappiness. ‘Spymaster Williamson asked me yesterday whether I thought Johan might have murdered Webb – or hired louts to do it for him.’
‘Williamson is interested in Behn? That is enlightening.’
‘Johan is not a spy, Tom,’ said Eaffrey, seeing the road his thoughts had taken. ‘That is what I was charged to learn. How else do you think we met?’
Chaloner had guessed the relationship had owed its origins to Eaffrey’s work for the intelligence services. ‘So, when did you decide to relieve Behn of his fortune by marrying him? Before or after Williamson charged you to seduce him for his secrets?’
‘After – when I learned how rich he is.’
‘How can you be sure he is not a spy for Brandenburg?’
‘Lord, Tom! You are like the inquisition today! Because all the evidence points to ugly mercantile dealings, not treachery. Believe me, I investigated this very carefully before I decided to marry him. Given my own occupation, I can hardly wed an enemy intelligencer, can I?’ She winced when a great cheer went up from the crowd. ‘Dillon has arrived.’
Chaloner left Eaffrey when Behn abandoned his attempts to extricate Alice from the splinters and devoted his attention to the condemned man instead. He was one of those who liked to play an active role in public executions, and began to howl abuse at Dillon. Such behaviour was common among apprentices or drunken labourers, but merchants, on the whole, tended to be more genteel. Alice screeched at him to come back and help her, but Behn was oblivious to all except the scaffold. Eaffrey winced at his coarse manners, and went to assist Alice. Chaloner was about to do the same for Temple, but a pair of thickset louts beat him to it. They hauled the politician to his feet, then relieved him of his purse while they were dusting him down.
The spy returned to Thurloe, and climbed two of the wheel’s rungs, enough to see Dillon’s head and shoulders among the mass of people by the gibbet. Dillon wore his distinctive hat, which he doffed to the crowd, earning himself cheers of admiration. The robber and the baby-killer had already been turned off their ladders, and their bodies twisted and turned as they swung in the breeze.
‘I hope to God they were guilty,’ said Thurloe. ‘Not innocent, like Dillon.’
It was time to reveal what had been omitted from the letter written the previous night. Chaloner took a deep breath and began, sorry for the pain he knew he was about to cause his friend. ‘Dillon described yesterday how he distracted Webb while Fanning stabbed him. He claimed he acted on his master’s orders, but that he would willingly have helped to kill Webb anyway, because he despises slavery. His master sent him a note, which he received in the Dolphin tavern after he had left the Guinea Company dinner. He had abandoned the event early, because he had quarrelled with Webb.’
Thurloe regarded him with a stunned expression, then shook his head. ‘He was not telling the truth. Perhaps this so-called confession is part of this complex game he is playing – he and his master.’
‘Not so, sir,’ said Chaloner gently. ‘I went to the Dolphin tavern afterwards, where I found a pot-boy who admitted to following Dillon to The Strand on the evening of the murder. The lad is a thief, and I imagine he intended to rob Dillon, which is why he has kept his story to himself until now.’
‘Yet he told you?’ asked Thurloe sceptically. ‘After all these weeks?’
‘I had a dagger at his throat, and he was far too terrified to tell me anything but the truth. He said he saw Dillon reach Webb’s house and hide in the shadows. Eventually, Dillon was joined by a second man whose description matches Fanning’s. At that point, the boy became uneasy and ran away.’
Thurloe shook his head stubbornly. ‘This unsavoury lad’s tale does not mean–’
‘Dillon told me Webb fell to his knees when he died, injuring them. I saw Webb’s body, and there were grazes on his legs. Only his killers would know such a detail.’
Thurloe gazed at him, shocked and hurt. ‘So, the conviction was sound? I have been working to free a guilty man? The bloody rapier was not planted by spiteful hands, but was his – or Fanning’s?’
Chaloner nodded. ‘It would seem so.’
‘Then it explains why Dillon is so certain he will be saved today,’ said Thurloe tiredly. ‘He did his master’s bidding, and he has a right to expect his master’s protection. So, whoever wrote Bristol’s letter was telling the truth. Does this mean the other seven men were guilty, too?’
‘Dillon said it was just him and Fanning. I wonder how May – the author of the letter – came to know Dillon and Fanning were the culprits. I suppose I shall have to ask him.’
‘I will tell my expert to compare May’s handwriting with that on Bristol’s note. It may prove conclusive. Did I tell you Eaffrey came to see me after you left this morning? She is worried, because Scot is missing, and she thought I might know his whereabouts. I showed her Bristol’s letter and, after studying it with my enlarging glass, she demonstrated how Garsfield had been changed to Sarsfeild.’