Sammy placed a sliver of meat into his mouth. ‘Once I was in that cell, I had the freedom to come and go as I pleased. We had Bosey build a trapdoor from my cell out on to the beakhead. That allowed me to don my leper’s garb and slip into the water, so I could swim over to the ladder leading up to the poop deck. I usually did that after Arent left me. I had only to drop through the trapdoor we’d built from the animal pens into Crauwels’s cabin, then dart across the corridor into Dalvhain’s cabin before anybody was up and about. I spent most of my days in there.’
‘That’s why you had Eggert and Thyman slaughter the animals,’ said Lia, with sudden understanding. ‘They made such a racket every time anybody went near them. If you were constantly coming and going –’
‘It would have been noticed,’ finished Sammy. ‘As it was that first night when Sara saw me at her porthole. I’d gone to collect the candle snuffer from my sister, but I didn’t know your cabin and Dalvhain’s had been swapped. Arent nearly caught me, but I managed to get into the animal pens before he did. I dropped into Crauwels’s cabin with a chicken in my arms. Thank heavens, everybody was too distracted to hear it.’
‘You murdered the governor general while everybody was eating dinner, didn’t you?’ asked Arent, pushing away a pile of potatoes to lean his elbows on the table.
‘Yes.’
‘And it was you who saved me from Vos?’
‘That hadn’t been my intent, though I’m glad I was there.’
‘Did you kill Wyck?’ asked Sara.
The ship listed slightly, the plates sliding on the table.
‘He was a stable hand in our house when we were children,’ said Creesjie, taking hold of her wine. ‘Pieter tried to coerce the servants into saying they’d seen us performing satanic acts, but Wyck stood by us. He lost an eye for it, and ended up joining the Company after the family was slaughtered. That experience changed him.’
Sammy touched his sister’s cheek soothingly.
‘When I whispered to him, he told me he’d recognised Creesjie on the deck,’ said Sammy. ‘And that he’d want paying for his silence. We couldn’t let that stand. I actually offered him a fortune to kill Arent during their fight.’ Seeing Arent’s baleful glare he held his hands up. ‘I know he couldn’t win. I was hoping Arent would kill him in self defence, sparing me the trouble.’
‘How did you make the white smoke everybody mistook for fire?’ wondered Lia, with a professional curiosity.
‘Something I stumbled on while making philosopher’s wool from zinc,’ he related happily. ‘It’s impressive, isn’t it? We laced the caulking on the orlop deck with it. I had only to touch a flame to the tar and it burnt away, creating that white smoke, while leaving the wood intact.’
From his voice, Sara might have believed he’d used it for nothing more than conjuring tricks at court. Watching Lia’s delighted reaction, she could have believed the same.
‘How long have you been doing this?’ asked Arent, his voice cracking. ‘Committing crimes?’
Sara could hear the rage, barely controlled. She sought out his hand under the table, but his fist was clenched.
‘I was planning murders long before I was solving them,’ admitted Sammy. ‘My family name was destroyed, and we had nobody to support us. Emily and I survived however we could, and it turns out more people want somebody dead than care who killed them. I could tell you I carried on doing it because I was poor and starving, but I’ve lied enough for today. My gifts demand exercise, and the only thing more thrilling than unravelling a complicated murder is plotting one, then seeing it come off so perfectly nobody even recognises that it was a crime. Kings die peacefully in their beds. Nobles fall off horses while hunting. Beautiful heiresses commit suicide at balls. Good mysteries so rarely come along, but if you’ve got a little imagination, you can invent as many as you want. It’s proved a lucrative venture over the years. I’ve exported them to France, Germany, the Cape. They’re my spices, but unlike sugar and paprika, the nobility will never get sick of murdering each other.’
‘You really are Old Tom,’ said Arent hollowly.
‘There’s no such thing as demons, Arent.’ Sammy took a sip of wine, the liquid reddening his lips. ‘But there are always bargains to be struck.’
Perhaps it was the wine, or the dancing shadows, or the flush in his cheeks, but there truly was something devilish about him, thought Sara.
‘Bargains,’ she repeated slowly, hearing an offer in his tone.
Creesjie clasped her hands and leant across the table, into the candlelight. ‘I told you earlier that we did all this because we wanted Jan Haan to know our fear. But we also did it because we didn’t want to be caught. Everybody on that island believes a demon killed your husband, which is exactly what we intended. That’s the story they’ll go back home and tell.’ Seeing Sara’s doubt, she waved a hand. ‘All of this we can explain away, but superstition burrows itself deep. They believe it now. They believe in Old Tom. They’ll spend their lives cursing him for things that go wrong in their lives, and rubbing charms to keep themselves safe. Their children will believe, and so will their grandchildren.’ She paused, gathering herself. ‘I love you, Sara.’ Her eyes found Lia. ‘I love you, Lia. My boys love you. I want you to come with me to France as you planned. We have Jan’s treasure, which means we can live the life we always talked about, free of any obligation to marry.’
Lia shot a quick glance at her mother, but Sara kept her gaze firmly on Creesjie. Lia was sweet and clever, but she cared little for the suffering of strangers. She wanted the life so long promised with Creesjie, and Sara knew those dark eyes would beg her for it.
Sara didn’t know if she’d have the strength to resist. Or, even, if she should. For the fifteen years she’d been married to Jan Haan, she’d dreamt only of her freedom. Now, she was being offered exactly what she wanted. Part of her yearned to accept, to snatch at it greedily.
‘Whatever your intentions, hundreds of people are dead,’ growled Arent. ‘Children have lost their mothers and fathers. Husbands have lost their wives. You can’t walk away from that. Somebody has to be held to account.’ He stared at Sammy fiercely. ‘That’s what we did, Sammy. We held people to account for doing things like this.’
‘Your uncle was held to account,’ said Creesjie. ‘And my conscience aches for the hurt we’ve done accomplishing that, but it’s assuaged by the knowledge that we prevented the Gentlemen 17 from taking control of The Folly, and, through that, expanding an empire which empowers ruthless men like Jan Haan.’
‘Until you sell it to somebody else,’ argued Arent.
‘We’ve destroyed it,’ said Sammy flatly. ‘Or, at least, the two parts we recovered. The Folly was much too powerful for any king or Company to possess.’
Only Sara heard Lia groan, pained by the years of lost work.
Creesjie hung her head. ‘We grieve what we set in motion, but it was Crauwels who cost these passengers their lives. We intend to save who we can and return to Amsterdam.’
Sammy leant forward into the light, fixing his attention on Arent. His expression was watchful, but also hopeful – like a child making a request of his father. Sara could only curse herself for missing the resemblance between him and Creesjie earlier. They had the same shape to their eyes, the same chin. The same unnatural beauty. Perhaps that was another reason they’d ensured they were rarely in the same room together.
‘I know your nature, my friend,’ said Sammy, addressing Arent. ‘I know it burns you to let something so unjust go unpunished, but there really was a devil, and we really did banish him from this world. The Folly would have brought untold suffering, and we’ve destroyed it. There is good in this, as there is ill. Accept our version of this story and we’ll split Jan Haan’s treasure with you and the passengers. You’ll be free, and you can choose whatever life you want. Maybe one day, we’ll even solve a puzzle together again.’