Angus started to correct him, but I jabbed the constable with my elbow to shut him up. “It’s really shocking when one realizes what sort of man one is dealing with,” I said.
“Mortifying,” Dingle agreed.
Chapter 22
Here’s a sigh to those who love me,
And a smile to those who hate;
And, whatever sky’s above me,
Here’s a heart for every fate.
Angus and I left Dingle to his explorations, and followed Knifing out onto the street, where I found the man hunter conversing with Frederick Burke, the lawyer from the Banque Credit Francaise.
“Hello, Lord Byron,” said Burke. “Joe Murray told me I might find you here.”
I resolved to instruct Murray to stop informing people of my whereabouts. I was beginning to understand that I did not want to be found by the sort of people who might come looking for me.
“Mr. Burke has rooms next to mine at the inn by the College,” said Archibald Knifing. “How is it that you two gentlemen are acquainted?” His expression was hard to read, but he had already demonstrated remarkably intuitive capacities, and I had no doubt that he perceived my discomfort with the situation.
“This gentleman is a representative from a bank I’ve had some dealings with,” I said.
“Oh,” Knifing said. “How very interesting.” There was, of course, no reason he should be interested in this at all, except that he enjoyed seeing me humiliated.
“There has been a bit of confusion about some paperwork,” I said. “Mr. Burke has come from London to assist me in correcting it.”
“It seems Lord Byron may have committed a major criminal fraud against my client and has, thus far, frustrated my attempts to seek remediation,” Burke said with a sweet smile. Evidently, he had taken my threats against him the previous day with some measure of personal umbrage.
“Mr. Burke has sought me out to trouble me over an internal clerical error committed by a drunken bank clerk,” I countered. I was fully frothed and hungry for vengeance after seeing what the killer had done to Violet. I understood why Burke might be vexed, but I didn’t care, and was fully prepared to engage him physically if he pushed me too far.
“So you’re a solicitor?” Knifing asked Burke.
“I am,” Burke said.
“And you work for a bank?” Knifing asked.
“A bank is my client,” said Burke.
“A French bank,” I added.
“Well, like I said, that is just terribly interesting,” said Knifing. One of his arched eyebrows seemed to arch slightly higher. “I shall leave the two of you to your terribly interesting business.”
“I believe I’ll join you,” said Angus.
“I’m sure I’ll enjoy the company,” Knifing growled. It was clear from his tone that he did not enjoy Angus’s company much at all. Knifing walked down the street, taking long, deliberate strides; a proud old warhorse grown patchy and lean with age, his supple, London-cobbled hooves clopping with each step upon the paving stones. Angus bounded after him like a preposterously rotund puppy.
In a less harrowing situation, I’d have found this pairing quite amusing, and retrospectively, I cannot help but wonder what their conversation might have been like when they were alone together, without me around to bounce insults off of. At that moment, though, I was awash with emotions and unable to see any humor in the situation.
“Do you intend to threaten me again, here upon the public street?” Burke asked. “I see you are without your bear today.”
He thought, perhaps, it was safer to confront me in the street than it had been in my residence, but Burke didn’t know that, while my protestations of grief over Felicity Whippleby’s death had been a convenient excuse to avoid dealing with him, I was truly anguished about the loss of Violet Tower. Burke didn’t know that the bear was tame, whereas I was the danger.
“Why are you still in Cambridge?” I asked him, squeezing my right fist until the knuckles turned white, while adjusting my gun-belt with my left hand. “I told you that Mr. Hanson, in London, is the gentleman you need to speak to regarding any legal matters.”
His Adam’s apple seemed to recede slightly into his neck as his jaw clenched. “If I was satisfied to get run around by your lawyer, I would never have made the trip. In any case, you made the deal with Lafitte without consulting counsel, so I don’t see why you need a lawyer to correct these defects.”
“Well, first of all, I ought not concede that there are any defects in the agreement until my counsel has reviewed your allegations. And, second, if there are any defects, they are only innocent mistakes, consequences of M. Lafitte’s incompetence as a banker, and perhaps attributable, in some small measure, to my own youthful inexperience in the norms of business.”
“Be serious,” said Burke. “After swindling our banker, you cannot really intend to play the naif.”
“You just accused me of serious criminal fraud, and this isn’t the first time you have done so. I think I should have no further dealings or conversations with you or your client without Mr. Hanson present.”
“You have our money, and are spending wantonly, by all reports. We lack proper collateral to secure our interest, due to your false representations. With each day that passes, you waste more of our funds, which we shall later be unable to recover. Only last night, I’ve learned, you and several dozen guests feasted on foie gras and champagne, though you’d refused to discuss business with me earlier the same day because you were overwhelmed with grief over the death of Felicity Whippleby.”
“Are you upset because I didn’t invite you to the party?” I asked. “I felt the adversarial tone of our dealings might have caused tension or awkwardness in a social setting. Also, I find your company unpleasant.”
Burke leaned toward me. On the public street, without the Professor around, he was less frightened of me than he’d been the previous day in my residence. “If you need a lawyer, find one in Cambridge.”
“Absolutely not.” I would stand firm on this point. “I will not engage in dealings with you if I am to be deprived of my trusted advisor.”
“This matter needs to be resolved at once.”
I nodded. “I understand, Mr. Burke, and you can rest assured that Mr. Hanson and I will treat this with all due urgency. His practice in London is, of course, quite busy, and I am deeply engaged with my studies here in Cambridge. However, I am confident that, with some effort, we can arrange to meet together within three months, assuming your availability coincides with ours.”
Burke stared at me, aghast. I think, if I had struck him, he might have been less piqued. “In three months, you will have wasted all of my client’s money,” he said. “I must have either security or repayment, and I must have it immediately.”
“Perhaps you should sue me. How much money do you think I can waste before a court rules on your petition?”
“I came here to seek your assistance in finding an amicable resolution to this problem. If proceedings become adversarial, you’ll find I can be much less friendly. If we involve the courts in this matter, they’ll rule for my client and order you to return the funds. If you cannot, you’ll face debtors’ prison.” He poked his finger at me, and I slapped it away.
“Debtors’ prison? Do you think I’m stupid? I’m shielded by the privileges of nobility, and your client is a foreign concern based in a nation that is presently at war with England. Given those facts, an English court is likely to rule that the defects in the agreement absolve me of all repayment obligations.” I had no idea whether this was true, but my rage was fully stoked, and aggression seemed a necessity under the circumstances.