Once again alone with me, he leaned across the table and said indulgently: “There is obviously a lesson to be learned from this exercise, Jeremy. The lesson is simply that when reason and the information given us by our senses are in conflict, then we must not always and immediately assume that the senses have it right. Give reason its chance, as well.”
That seemed no more than common sense to me, though of course I would not say so to him. The lesson I had learned — or believed I had — was that I simply must be more observant. What interested me far more than any of this was the earlier visit to Bow Street by the Lord Chief Justice. I must know more of that.
“You-“ I hesitated, but then plunged on: “You indicated that there were some things you could tell me about Lord Mansfield’s visit. “
“I suppose I did, yes.”
Had he chosen to be evasive? I hoped not, for when he did so choose, there was simply no possibility of drawing him out. I decided it might be best for me simply to wait. And indeed it proved to be so.
“Ah, well,” said he after no little space of time, “perhaps there are a few things we might discuss. Do we sit a safe distance from others here in the dining room? I would not have them listening in.”
I assured him that his words were safe from eavesdroppers. He accepted that, gave a thoughtful rub to his chin, and began talking at not much more than a whisper and as one might if talking to himself.
“As I suspected,” said he, “Lord Mansfield does have this fellow, Paltrow, watched. And generally speaking, his watchers are among the best at their filthy trade. Nevertheless, they have failed to find where the claimant and Eli Bolt make their home here in the area of Oxford.”
“Is that so important?” I asked.
“Yes, because they have evidently spent a great deal of time in Oxfordshire. Lord Mansfield assumes they have, for they are continually appearing and reappearing in the city and in various parts of the shire. It is not as it was when they visited Bath — that is, they are not guests at any inn or hostelry — of that Lord Mansfield’s spies are certain. They are here on the invitation of one who lives in Oxford, or, more likely, in the city’s environs. “
“But Laningham is nearby,” I objected. “Could they not be residing somewhere near the border with Oxfordshire?”
“Perhaps,” said Sir John, “but in either case — whether in or near Oxford or in or near Laningham — if we knew with whom the two of them were staying, we would very likely also know the third man in this conspiracy.”
“And in the earlier one which led to the death of Mr. Mudge.”
“Exactly so, yes. . yes, indeed, “ he mused. “You realize, do you, that this will make your task far more difficult than my own.”
“Oh? How is that, sir?”
“If you will recall, I nominated you to watch our two conspirators while I interview certain of the younger Paltrow’s teachers. It will undoubtedly be much easier for me, for I know where to look for the teachers, but you, Jeremy, must go out and search Oxford for the claimant and Eli Bolt. You may find them and you may not. They may be soliciting signed statements, and they may not. Yet if you find them, and that is what they are doing, then you must observe them at some length to see that they are doing it right.”
“Yes, of course,” said I, “to make certain there be no buying of affidavits with booze or beer.”
Sir John chuckled at that. “ ‘Booze’ is it? Where do you hear such talk?” Yet not waiting for my reply, he proceeded to instruct me in the proper methods to employ. (No doubt I should have paid him better attention.) “You should observe the two without yourself being observed. Under no circumstances should you call attention to yourself by arguing, accusing them, or otherwise challenging them. Is that clear to you?”
“Oh, quite clear, sir.”
“If that be so, Jeremy, then I shall be glad,” said he. “You must be careful in this matter, lad, for by being aggressive, you might cause considerable difficulty for all of us.”
“I’ll remember, sir.”
When, just then, the server returned with the bottle of claret which Sir John had ordered, I was glad for the relief thus provided. I had had quite enough of lessons and admonitions. At no other time, it seems, do young men have greater confidence and wisdom than at the age of sixteen.
As I expected, I was up and about the next morning well over an hour before Sir John. That gave me time enough to leave the inn for a brief walk about this small city. There was none to greet me or give me direction on the ground floor, so I made my exit and hallooed the first fellow I saw, to ask him where I might look for the university. Rather than answer me in a forthright manner, he responded with a gesture: Pointing his index finger into the air, he whipped his hand round in a circle. It was only after I had tramped through the city in that early hour for some time that I understood what he meant to say with that odd movement of his hand: The university was all about; colleges seemed to lie in every direction round the Blue Boar Inn.
Thus when, after breakfasting, Sir John and I made our way out into the day, I was able to be of some aid to him in finding Balliol College. It had been, as I correctly assumed, the residence and more of Lawrence Paltrow during his years at the university. There were a number of references to Balliol in his ‘Journal of Exploration and Discovery’, all of them sentimental and backward-looking. I, who had had very little formal schooling but had prospered well under the tuition of my mother and father, felt there was little sense to such feelings. How, I wondered, could one wax nostalgic over a great pile of bricks and stone, no matter how impressive it may appear? Was Balliol grander or better than other colleges I had glimpsed in the course of my morning’s ramble? It evidently seemed so to the youthful Paltrow. Or was it his fellow scholars and his teachers who excited such loyalty? That would seem to make better sense, would it not?
So it was that I led Sir John, who tended to silence, across and down from our inn to the college. It was not a great journey by foot, but there were many more pedestrians out on the walks than when I had gone out before. I knew not where all had come from, nor where they were headed. Most were too old to be students, and in any case had not the black robe and distinctive cap which all the undergraduates wore — nor were they teachers. Yet I was certain that they were hurrying off to their various places of employment. It must take a great number working at many different jobs to keep a university such as this one running smoothly day in and day out. I could not otherwise suppose who would employ them all, though I must admit they looked better dressed and fed than the London crowd.
As we approached the college, Sir John at last divulged the name of him we sought there. An interview had been arranged by Lord Mansfield through one of his spies with a Reverend Titus Talmadge.
“A vicar, is he, sir?” I asked. “Or perhaps chaplain to the college.”
“The latter seems likely, does it not?” said Sir John. “Nevertheless, I have been instructed that Reverend Talmadge is known officially as ‘a Fellow of Balliol College.”
“’A fellow? What is that?”
“Ah, well, of that I’m not quite sure, never having attended university myself. I do have the notion, however, that a fellow is something more than a student, but something less than a professor.”
“I see — or in any case, I think I do.”
“Perhaps we may learn more definitively.”
“I hope so,” said I. “But here we are. We shall have a chance to do so.”
I announced to the doorkeeper our desire to see the Reverend Titus Talmadge, a Fellow of Balliol. The doorkeeper fixed us with a disapproving gaze and asked our business with the good reverend.
At that point, Sir John took over the task. “I am Sir John Fielding, Magistrate of the Bow Street Court in London,” said he. “I have come to see the gentleman in question on official matter. Just what that business may be, I have no intention of revealing to you, for you seem to me to be the sort of self-important, all-knowing wiseacre who would, at the first opportunity, blatter it about for no better reason than to impress your fellow doorkeepers. Now, where is he?”