'I told you. An old secret family recipe against the fever. Seems to have worked, too.'
'Indeed. There, see ahead? The large white house surrounded by the cast-iron fence.'
'I see it. What about it?'
'The thing about it is that it is owned by the man I know as Colonel Wesley McCulloch. What must be determined next, I imagine, is to discover if he is the same man whom you are looking for.'
Troy pulled hard on the reins and the horse whinnied in protest as it stopped. Troy looked at the house, his face tight, staring as though he could see right through the walls if he tried hard enough.
Had he found him?
Was this the end of the hunt — or just the beginning?
Chapter 26
ROBBIE SHAW
He was certainly a strange man, my new American friend, and I really wasn't quite sure what to make of him. By that I don't mean that I had doubts about his courage — or his resourcefulness. The little contretemps with the highwaymen had certainly proved his abilities on that score. It was a number of small things, as well as his overall manner, that I found so disturbing. His determination was rocklike and steadfast. It was in every lineament of his body as he sat now, his jaw clamped, staring at McCulloch's house as though wishing to destroy it on the instant. I am driven to admit that I felt a small shiver at the sight; I would not wish to be this man's enemy.
'Okay, that's enough, where to now?' he said, giving the reins a snap to wake the nag up.
'Three streets ahead, then turn right.'
That was part of it, his use of language. What on earth did okay mean? I had vague memories of having heard the term used before, though I could not remember the circumstances. Troy used other expressions like this from time to time, spoke them most naturally, though usually when relaxed. I had ceased to question him because he only put me off with vague explanations, then changed the subject. But where had he learned to speak in this manner? I am fairly well acquainted with the city of New York, so that I can verify that he certainly did speak in the New York style. But it was more than this. At times I felt that he must belong to some secret organization, some mysterious order that had long been locked away from the world on a hidden island, like some mad creation of the author Edgar Allan Poe. I longed to see what he had hidden in those saddlebags — but knew better than to even attempt to open them. And his knowledge of medicine was simply astonishing, far superior to that of any surgeon I have ever met. My bullet wound was healing without suppuration, and I had avoided the fever perhaps because of the strange and bitter tablets he made me swallow.
But it was his manner that I found so disconcerting. As though he were a white man turned black. When we discussed things at night, when he was invisible to me, there was nothing in his voice to indicate that he was other than an educated Yankee. I have met many men of his race and have found them universally untutored, thick of speech and bereft of any grasp of grammar, savages but lately drawn from their jungle homes. But not this man. He was a mystery.
As always I was greeted with much enthusiasm at the Blue House hotel, undoubtedly since the owner, Mrs Henley, entertains the baseless hope that someday I shall smile with favour upon her not unattractive daughter Arabella, marry her and take her away to a far superior life. I encourage this ambition just enough to ensure that the service and the accommodation are of the finest, but not enough to entrap me in the treacly mire of matrimony. Mrs Henley herself admitted me and I quickly distracted her attention so she would not see the look of quick anger on Troy's countenance when she peremptorily sent him to the stable to bed with the horses. I do feel sorry for him, he is so unable to accept the social circumstances that his colour forces upon him. But I was not sorry enough to regret my sleeping on a feather bed while he shared the equine hay. For I am greatly in need of the respite, my wound having made me restive when trying to sleep on the hard ground night after night. This night I fell instantly into the embrace of Morpheus and stirred not a jot until I awoke in the morning feeling truly refreshed for the first time since my injury. I breakfasted heartily on ham, cornbread, fried corn fritters, eggs, kidneys, rashers of bacon, and sweet preserves. I was whistling when I joined Troy in the stable, but ceased instantly I caught his eye. He was scowling mightily and trying to brush bits of hay from his clothing.
'Good morning. Have you broken your fast?' I said.
'I have — if you consider cold grits and sour buttermilk a breakfast,' he growled.
'The food here isn't too good, is it,' I said, trying to put from my mind memory of the breakfast I had just eaten. 'Have you considered our plan of operation for the day?'
'A great deal — and I've decided to risk it. Letting McCulloch take a look at me, that is. If I go sneaking around it's only going to look more suspicious. I'm counting on the fact that the last time he saw me was a long way from here, and under very different circumstances. I don't think he'll recognize me. If he does, or asks you about me, do you know what to say?'
'I do. I have the cover story memorized.' He nodded, accepting my use of the term 'cover story', not realizing I had only recently learned this unusual phrase from him. 'You are a servant of my friend in New York, Dick Van Zandt, loaned to me for a time to assist me until my leg injuries are mended. Satisfactory?'
'Great. And don't forget, my name is Tom.' For some reason he smiled at that. 'Now let's get moving. I want to get this over with.'
Troy was silent during the drive, and I was aware of the tension that gripped him as we approached the house and halted before the front doorway. He helped me down and held the horse while I addressed myself to the bellpull. A servant answered, one familiar to me.
'Is your master at home?' I asked.
Before he could answer there was the drum of a horse's galloping hooves and the colonel himself rode up the drive.
'I'll be damned — is that you, Robbie!'
'It is indeed,' I said, turning and taking a hobbling step towards him as he dismounted. He took no notice of my servant, but over his shoulder I saw Troy's face frozen as rigid as a rock. I think he had found his man. McCulloch shook my hand, then indicated my leg.
'Fall off your horse?' he asked.
'Just about, an equally boring accident. Which forces me to travel about in this infernal buggy,'
'Well, come inside and I'll give you some whisky that will make you forget your troubles. Your darkie can take the trap around to the rear.'
He looked behind him as he said this, waving Troy off in a peremptory manner. Then he lowered his hand, but remained half-turned for an instant looking at Troy as he nodded then shuffled off leading the horse. The colonel took my arm as I made my slow way up the steps.
'Your servant,' he said. 'A new purchase on your part?'
'Tom? No, he's just a nigger I borrowed from a friend in New York, to drive me around. Why do you ask?'
'No reason. Just thought I had seen him before — but I couldn't, could I? All these apes look alike, don't they?'
He laughed, and I pretended equal merriment. When in Rome. We went in — and the whisky was as good as promised.
'Dammit, Wes,' I said, smacking my lips over it. 'As much as I love the distillate of the Western Isles, I must say that your Virginia product has a great deal to recommend it.'
'Coming from a Scotchman — high praise indeed. And your arrival is a fortunate one. I have a question about some of the machinery that I am sure you can help me with. I must write to your father and you can tell me what to say.'
'I'm no engineer, my father saw to it that I escaped the reek of the works and had a proper gentleman's education.'