Mrs. Ellershaw appeared to believe that her husband wished to know her daughter’s location, though he made precisely the opposite clear. It seemed to me likely that Mr. Ellershaw’s interest in the girl must have been other than fatherly, and her marriage might have been an effort to escape as much as a pursuit of the heart. That being the case, her mother would clearly wish to protect her whereabouts.
One thing struck me, however. Mrs. Ellershaw feared that her husband had learned the truth. Not that he had discovered the daughter’s address or wished to discover it. No, she believed there was a hidden truth of which Ellershaw was ignorant, which meant that the intelligence he had now provided me might well be false or incomplete.
As for Forester, it would seem he not only disliked Ellershaw but had reason to hate him-namely, his dalliance with Mrs. Ellershaw. Did he hate his lover’s husband to the extent that he would betray him with Thurmond for the pleasure of it? I doubted it. Rather, it seemed to me that Forester had some business that depended on the failure of Ellershaw and perhaps even the Company itself-though I was at a loss as to what that might be. I did, however, suspect that it had something to do with the secret warehouse level Carmichael had spoken of, and I knew I would have to discover the contents of that room.
As always, Aadil kept a close watch on me throughout the day, his ugly scarred face studying my every move with Oriental single-mindedness. But toward evening I managed to remove Carmichael to a private corner on the pretense of scolding him for some imagined failure.
He was so earnest a fellow that when he obeyed my summons to meet in the back of the warehouse, he appeared downcast and apologetic before I even spoke a word.
“Have no concern,” I said at once. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I merely set out the rumor in order to engineer our time together.”
“That’s a relief, Mr. Weaver, as I think well of you and would have you think well of me.”
“Indeed I do. You’ve proved to be a diligent worker and a useful guide to the warehouses.”
“I hope to remain so,” he said.
“I hope you will remain so as well,” I said, “for what I am now about to ask of you is not strictly within the bounds of your duties. I wish for you to show me the location of Mr. Forester’s hidden cargo and to help me gain access.”
His mouth parted slightly, but he said nothing for a moment. Finally, he shook his head. “It is a very dangerous thing you ask. Not only might I lose my place, but I should earn for myself the enmity of that beast Aadil. I don’t want that, and if you are wise you won’t want it either.”
“I understand it is a risk, and yet I must see the contents of that room, and I cannot do it without your assistance. You will be rewarded for your efforts.”
“It ain’t about the reward, don’t you mind that. It’s about not losing my place. You might be the watchmen overseer, but if Aadil or Mr. Forester wants me thrown out without what they owe me, there’s nothing that will stop them.”
“I won’t let that happen,” I told him, wondering, as I spoke, precisely how I would prevent it. I told myself that if Carmichael ’s position should come under attack because of his assistance to me, I would make certain he would not suffer for it. I had enough friends and influence that, at the very least, I could secure him a position of equal income elsewhere.
He studied me, perhaps appraising whether or not my optimism was well founded. “To be honest, Mr. Weaver, I’m scared to go against them.”
“I must learn what’s in there. If you won’t help me, I shall find someone who will, But I would prefer it to be you, as I believe I can trust you.”
He took a deep sigh. “And so you can, sir, so you can. When shall it be?”
I had an appointment I would by no means wish to miss for that night, so we made plans to meet behind the main warehouse at the strike of eleven on the following night. Against his protests, I placed a coin in his hand, but in doing so, I feared I had only weakened his resolve. Carmichael, I recognized, wanted to help me because he liked me. If I became yet another employer, his trust diminished, and I needed such trust as I could muster wherever it would be found.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I DEPARTED FROM CRAVEN HOUSE THAT AFTERNOON, HOPING NO ONE would notice my absence and Mr. Ellershaw would not call for me again. As per my arrangements, I met Elias at the Two Schooners Tavern on Cheapside, where he had ordered a pot and a meal, which I presumed I would be called upon to pay for. When I sat down, he was wiping the last of the grease from his plate with the last of his bread.
“Are you certain this matter will not turn difficult for me?” he asked.
“Reasonably certain,” I assured him.
I reviewed the plan, which I believed to be rather straightforward and easily accomplished-at least his end of it. Elias then wiped his face and departed to travel the short distance to Throgmorton Street, where the Seahawk kept its offices. I ordered a pot, which I allowed myself to drink over a third of an hour, and then paid the reckoning and made my way to the offices myself.
I entered the building and found myself in a large open room with several heavy writing desks where several clerks were currently at their labors. I noticed a door over to my left, which I believed led to Mr. In-gram’s office. I had contacted him earlier that day-using Elias’s name-to request an appointment. At that moment, Elias would be inside, attempting to secure insurance policies on several very elderly sea captains. Mr. Ingram, for his part, would be engaged in a rather lengthy effort to deny Elias, all of which gave me the time I required to attempt our scheme.
I approached the nearest clerk, a stooped-over gentleman of later year, his eyes obscured by bulky spectacles. He wrote in a hasty yet vastly neat hand in an opened ledger book, and he did so with such intensity that he failed to notice me as I approached.
“Ingram,” I said to him.
He continued to avoid looking up at me. “Mr. Ingram is indisposed at the moment. If you wish to wait or leave your card, sir.”
“No,” I said quietly.
Perhaps it was too quiet, for he did not respond. I, in turn, thought it prudent to accentuate my displeasure with a slap to his desk. “Ingram!” I said once more.
He set down his pen and scratched at his nose with an ink-stained finger, flattened from years of scrivening. “Mr. Ingram is with a gentleman right now,” he said, the concern evident in his voice. Indeed, his fellow clerks must have heard the concern as well, for they all ceased their labors and looked at me.
“I suggest you retrieve him,” I said.
“’Tis not our style of conducting business within these walls,” he answered.
“It ought to be your style when I come calling.”
“And who are you?”
“Ah, it’s Mr. Weaver, as I recollect.”
I recognized the figure descending the stairs. It was none other than Mr. Bernis, the same prim little gentleman who had accosted me at the Portuguese eatery to inform me that my life was now fully insured. He hurried over to me and shook my hand-I say he shook it and not we shook, for I hardly participated in any manner.
“So very good to see you once more, sir. How may we assist you?”
“I have come to demand that you tell me the names of the men who have insured my life.”
“As I explained to you earlier, we cannot reveal that information. There is an element of confidentiality that-”
“Confidentiality be damned,” I answered, not a little harshly. Indeed, the clerk took a step backward, as though blown by the force of my vehemence. “I will know it.”
“Sir,” he said. I must give credit to poor Mr. Bernis. He was not a large man or overly inclined to the martial spirit, yet in the defense of his company he stepped forward and put a hand upon my arm.