‘Everyone – including Eaffrey – seems to think you included me in your list of names. Why?’
‘Because I thought it would allay suspicion against me if I included an old friend. I care nothing for May, Willys and the others, though. All I wanted was to deliver a stunning blow to Williamson’s little empire. Do not look disgusted, Chaloner. You were never in danger from my “accusation”. You were in Ireland when Webb was murdered, and could have proved it to any law-court’s satisfaction.’
Chaloner stared at the ceiling. Scot was wrong: a judge would have treated his alibi with the same contempt with which he had treated Sarsfeild’s. ‘You must have been surprised when Garsfield’s name was changed to Sarsfeild. Do you know who did that? Eaffrey.’
Scot closed his eyes. ‘I know. She does not share my confidence in English justice, and altered it before I had it delivered. She confessed to what she had done a few days ago – defiantly and unrepentantly, of course. She has always looked out for you. How did you guess it was her?’
‘Because she demonstrated to Thurloe how the changes had been made – changes so minuscule they were all but invisible. But she identified them with suspicious ease.’
Scot grimaced. ‘Another foolish mistake on our part.’
Solutions were coming so fast to Chaloner that it was difficult to analyse them all. Meanwhile, the enormity of Scot’s betrayal threatened to overwhelm him, and he had to force himself to speak. ‘It was you who disguised himself as a priest and killed Sarsfeild in Ludgate. You knew Thurloe and I had been investigating his alibi, and you wanted us to stop making efforts on his behalf, because we would have learned that he was innocent of everything except an unfortunate name and an unlucky address.’
Scot sighed. ‘You are right – I knew that once you believed someone had changed the letter to protect you, the game would be up. You do not have many friends in London, and it was obvious that you would have looked to us. Eaffrey had no idea the trouble her tiny alterations would cause.’
‘She virtually told me,’ said Chaloner tiredly. ‘Today, at Dillon’s execution. She said someone had done it to benefit me. I should have made the connection then.’
‘So, what happens now? Will you tell Williamson? I doubt if he will believe you. Or will you forget about our misunderstandings and come to Surinam?’
‘I doubt I would survive the voyage – you have tried to be rid of me several times already.’
‘That is not true,’ objected Scot indignantly.
‘The first time was at Bristol’s house. You were ready to hand me over – a perfect opportunity to be shot of the nuisance I was becoming – but Alice arrived, and you did not want your beloved sister to see you betraying an old friend, even one she does not like. Then, after we left the garden, you wanted to turn right when it was obvious that if we did, we would run directly into Bristol’s men.’
Scot’s expression was harsh. ‘You have a fertile imagination.’
‘The last time was here, in the Anatomical Theatre. You said you came to investigate Lisle, but you knew he was no real threat to an experienced spy like me. You were here to kill me and leave me for the dissectors, but Johnson got the better of you.’
‘That is an unpleasant thing to say.’
‘But true. Johnson has already told me that the barber-surgeons accept corpses with no questions asked. That is how you disposed of the man with the scarred throat – the man you killed in Behn’s office. You brought him here and they obligingly chopped him up for you.’
‘You cannot prove that.’
‘I probably can – by asking Williamson whether any of his spies had a damaged neck. He is almost certain to say yes. What did the poor man do, Scot? Stumble across your plan to trick Behn into marrying Eaffrey for the alimony you are determined to wring from him?’
‘Eaffrey,’ said Scot, turning when he heard footsteps. ‘Chaloner is making up all manner of tales.’
‘I have been listening,’ said Eaffrey. Chaloner was shocked by the dead, flat expression on her face. ‘It is a pity, because we were almost through this hellish time: your brother’s release is imminent, Webb’s murderers are dead, and we had plucked up the courage to tell Williamson that we no longer wish to work for him. And he did not even ask us about his missing spy, so we are clear of that nasty business, too.’
Chaloner looked hard at her. ‘And Willys is dead. You arranged the diversion with the horse, while Scot stabbed him in the back. Why was that necessary?’
Neither denied the accusation. ‘He was threatening to fabricate evidence that would see my brother executed,’ said Scot. ‘And do you know why? Because of you.’
‘Me?’ Chaloner did not see how he could be held responsible for anything Willys had done.
‘You suggested I investigate the Trulocke brothers, but it transpired that the man who oversaw the supply of weapons to the Irish rebels was none other than Willys.’
Chaloner frowned. ‘But he said he prevented a shipment of arms from reaching the conspirators.’
‘He was lying. Subsequent probing has shown he was a close ally of Dillon’s; they were drinking together on the night of Webb’s murder. Dillon was a rebel, and he encouraged his friends – Willys, Fanning, Fitz-Simons and others to join him in Ireland. When I tackled him, Willys said that if I did not overlook the matter, he would tell Williamson that Thomas sold them the weapons. Unfortunately for Willys, he chose the wrong man to threaten.’
‘And England is now minus a traitor,’ added Eaffrey, a little defiantly.
‘You made the mistake of stabbing him with your left hand,’ said Chaloner. ‘You did it, because you knew May would make an issue of the fact that I can fight with both, but you forgot about the splint. It was a clever idea, but you did not think it through properly.’
Scot sighed impatiently. ‘Yes, I killed Willys and yes, we wanted you accused, so you would stop your investigation and leave us alone. But nothing would have happened to you – your master is Lord Chancellor of England, and he would have stepped in to save you.’
‘And if not, we would have arranged your escape,’ added Eaffrey. ‘You were never in any danger. Damn it, Thomas! Why could you not leave this alone? Now what are we going to do? You have landed us all in a terrible mess.’
‘I should say,’ came a voice from the stairs. All three jumped in surprise, and turned to see Holles standing there, a cocked pistol in each hand. ‘A terrible mess is a good description of what you have made of our lives, Heyden. Search him for daggers, Scot.’
‘He is unarmed,’ said Scot. ‘I hid all his weapons before we came down here.’
Chaloner looked from one to the other in confusion, then shook his head in disgust as Holles trained both dags on him. ‘Wiseman said you could not be trusted, and he was right.’
Eaffrey spoke in a low voice. ‘You have always been loyal to a single master, Tom – first Thurloe, and now Clarendon. The rest of us are rather more practical. Bristol is generous, and Holles, William and I have all accepted commissions from him – to see him victorious over the man whose bigotry against Catholics has deprived him of the right to hold public office.’
Chaloner was numb. ‘Now what? Do we all go to Surinam together?’
Slowly, Scot took a gun from his belt, and aimed it at Chaloner’s chest. ‘I think it is too late for that.’
‘Would you like me to turn around?’ asked Chaloner softly. ‘So you can shoot me in the back?’