‘Perhaps it was you they were after,’ muttered Mary.
Leybourn frowned a gentle admonishment at her, but the scowl dissolved when she treated him to a loving smile. The moment he turned back to Chaloner, she shot the spy a look of such blazing dislike that he recoiled. He was aware of similar feelings towards her, which surprised him, because it usually took longer for people to generate such strong emotions in him. He was sorry, because their antipathy towards each other was likely to end up causing Leybourn pain.
‘Why should Smegergill think he was bound for Bedlam?’ asked Leybourn. Mary made the kind of noise that said she was not going to listen to more lies, and went to the pantry. A few moments later came the sound of wine being decanted into a goblet. She did not come back, and Chaloner was relieved to speak to Leybourn alone.
‘He did not seem insane, but I am no judge of such matters.’ He rubbed his head again and sighed. ‘What am I saying? Of course he was not insane: he was one of His Majesty’s musicians, and the Court does not appoint lunatics to such posts. He was just forgetful, as the elderly are sometimes. He was telling me about some documents Maylord had found. Maylord was being cheated by someone.’
Leybourn frowned. ‘I think I follow you, although this is a garbled explanation, to put it mildly. Shall I send for a surgeon? Their hall is just across the road.’
‘No, thank you.’ Chaloner did not like surgeons. ‘But I cannot think properly, Will. It is all a blur, and I am not sure what really happened. There was a cut on Smegergill’s lip and he certainly drowned, but his purse was not stolen, and neither was his ring.’
‘Perhaps the robbers were disturbed before they could finish.’
‘That is what I thought, but no one came until later. And his empty purse is odd. We were going to hire a carriage, but he had no money.’
‘Maybe he thought you were going to pay,’ suggested Leybourn. ‘Or he forgot to fill it before he left home. Or the thieves took the coins and left the pouch. Or this was their first robbery, and they did not know what they were doing, although that is difficult to believe — the Hectors are usually very good at thievery. Did you see any of them? Could you identify them, if you saw them again?’
Chaloner touched the bruise on his jaw. ‘No. They threw a stone first, which slowed me down. That is not something inexperienced felons do. It meant I could not fight properly.’
‘Some of the Hectors carry slingshots, so I imagine that is what hit you. You are lucky to be alive, because it is not unknown for men to die after being struck by Smithfield-hurled missiles.’
Chaloner wondered whether that was what had happened to Smegergill. ‘I suppose someone took exception to my questions about Newburne, and decided they should end. Poor Smegergill made a fatal mistake when he agreed to catch a carriage with me. Mary is right: I did kill him.’
‘Easy,’ said Leybourn gently. ‘Do not jump to wild conclusions.’
But Chaloner was feeling wretched, sure the old man would still be alive if he had not been careless. It would not be an easy burden to bear for the rest of his life.
‘Williamson’s agent told me the government hires Hectors on occasion,’ he said, trying to pull himself together. The least he could do was ensure that Smegergill’s killers faced justice; brooding about his ineptitude could come later. ‘Perhaps Williamson wanted to stop me from investigating.’
‘Him and half of London. I am not keen on you unveiling the culprit myself — not for a snake like Newburne. You think it was you they wanted, then? You do not think it was a random attack?’
Chaloner thought about the interviews he had conducted that day. He had been warned away from the investigation by every person he had spoken to: L’Estrange, Brome and Joanna at the newsbook offices; Hodgkinson the printer; Hen Finch; Muddiman and Dury; and even Williamson’s man. Meanwhile, Crisp’s name had cropped up rather a lot, too.
‘I am sure Smegergill was about to tell me something important,’ he said bitterly. ‘I know he was. If only I had protected him properly.’
‘You are a good spy,’ said Leybourn soothingly. ‘You will discover whatever it was another way.’
It was not much of a consolation, especially for Smegergill. ‘I should be going,’ he said, when Mary returned with a cup of wine clasped in her plump fingers.
‘No,’ said Leybourn firmly. ‘You are still not right, and-’
‘Leave through the back door, please,’ said Mary. ‘It will be safer for us if you are not seen.’
‘Mary!’ cried Leybourn, distressed. ‘He must stay until daybreak. Supposing the Hectors are still looking for him? Supposing they try again?’
‘It would be a tragedy,’ said Mary flatly.
Leybourn shot her an agonised look, then turned to Chaloner, who was inspecting his dented hat. ‘She is jesting with you,’ he said with an unconvincing smile. ‘She is a great one for jokes, and we are always laughing together.’
Chaloner wondered how much Leybourn would laugh when he discovered her true character, because it was only a matter of time before the bedazzlement faded and the surveyor was exposed to what really lay beneath. He opened the door and stepped into the garden. The rain had stopped, and the early hour meant the air smelled of wet earth and damp leaves, coal fires and the reek of industry being doused for the night. He heard Leybourn and Mary exchanging low, angry words behind him, and was sorry he had brought discord to his friend’s house. When he turned, the surveyor had gone, and Mary was waiting, hands on hips, to make sure he really left. He moved towards her, making her flinch back in alarm.
‘Most people would summon a constable if they thought a killer was on their doorstep, but you only clamour for me to be gone. Now, why would you do that? Are you hiding from the law?’
She gaped at him. ‘How dare you! I am just trying to protect my husband.’
‘You are a liar, Mrs Leybourn. The truth is that you do not want a brush with the forces of law and order, not even to help the victim of an assault.’
She regarded him with a glittering hatred, and when she spoke her voice was a low, menacing hiss. ‘If you meddle in my affairs, I will see you dead. Now go, and do not come back. Not ever.’
Chaloner had never appreciated being threatened. ‘And what will you do if I refuse?’
She leaned towards him. ‘Ellis Crisp owes me a favour, and his Hectors will be more than willing to teach you a lesson. All I have to do is ask.’
The remark was more revealing than alarming, and Chaloner regarded her thoughtfully. ‘An underworld king is an odd acquaintance for a respectable woman, I would have thought. Perhaps I will ask questions in Smithfield, and see what I can learn about you.’
Mary’s face became ugly with rage. ‘If you try to interfere with my business, I will ensure you destroy your friend in the process. He is happy with me and I am content with him. But if you harm me, I will ruin him — financially and emotionally. And then Crisp will see you pay in ways you cannot possibly imagine.’
‘You would hurt the man you profess to love?’ Chaloner was disgusted.
‘If the alternative is losing a nice house, plenty of money and a life of leisure? What do you think?’
‘Tom!’ called Leybourn, appearing behind her, slightly breathless. He carried his second-best cloak. ‘This will keep you dry until you reach home. And here is a crown for a carriage, since your own money was stolen.’
Chaloner accepted the cloak but not the coin. Leybourn had one person who only wanted him for his wealth, and he did not need another like it. Without a word, he started to make his way home.
When he arrived in Fetter Lane, Chaloner lay on his bed and thought about Leybourn. Although the surveyor was clearly delighted to have secured himself a lady at last, it was not a happy union. There had been the uncharacteristic spat of temper when Leybourn had stormed out of Lincoln’s Inn, and he had also mentioned an inability to sleep. Chaloner wondered if he sensed that Mary was not as enamoured of him as he was of her — or even that her attachment was really to his money — but stubborn desperation prevented him from seeing the truth.