Mrs Puddinge did not pause to knock at the door to Grandmaster Wolfe’s study but pushed it open and strode inside. The servants bustled Quare across the threshold behind her. The room was as sweltering as ever, yet Quare perceived a distinct chill in the air.
The Old Wolf sat behind his desk as if he had not risen from it since Quare had last seen him. He took a long-stemmed clay pipe from his lips and exhaled a dense cloud of smoke, through which he gazed at Quare as balefully as a dragon. Mrs Puddinge, meanwhile, still holding his sword and scabbard, crossed the room to the Old Wolf’s side and bent low to whisper into his ear. Quare felt his arms released; rubbing them briskly, he glanced back to see that the two servants had taken positions to either side of the now-closed door. They stared ahead like twin statues. Then the rumble of Grandmaster Wolfe’s voice pulled his gaze forward again.
‘Well, Mr Quare, it would appear that you’ve had quite a busy night and morning. What do you have to say for yourself, sir?’
‘I-I’ve come to warn you,’ Quare stammered, removing his tricorn and tucking it under his arm. He scarcely knew where to begin. He had so much to tell, so many questions to ask. Mrs Puddinge, standing beside the grandmaster’s chair with her arms crossed over her chest – she had laid his weapon upon the desk – gazed at him inscrutably. He marshalled his thoughts. ‘The French have sent a spy among us – a spy and a murderer. Aylesford, a journeyman claiming to be from Scotland, a man who—’
‘Yes, yes, we know all about Mr Aylesford,’ interrupted the Old Wolf, giving his pipe an airy wave. ‘Master Magnus was not the only one with a network of spies and informants, you know.’
Mrs Puddinge gave a satisfied smirk.
But Quare was not concerned with Mrs Puddinge at the moment. ‘Was,’ he echoed dully. ‘You said was . Is Master Magnus dead then?’
‘Dead?’ repeated Grandmaster Wolfe. ‘Regrettably, yes.’ Though if there was an iota of actual regret in his tone, Quare couldn’t hear it. ‘Murdered, in fact. But then, that is not news to you, is it, Mr Quare? Don’t bother to lie – I can see right through you, sir.’
In truth, it was no more than Quare had feared – yet that fear hadn’t prepared him for the reality. A kind of shudder seemed to pass through the floor, as if he were standing on the deck of a ship. Or perhaps the unsteadiness was his own. In any case, it was a moment before he felt in sufficient command of himself to reply. ‘I had heard … That is, Aylesford said …’ He paused to clear his throat. ‘Aylesford told me Master Magnus was dead. Said that he’d come to do the job himself, but that someone had beaten him to it.’
‘I don’t suppose he mentioned a name.’
‘No. But tell me, sir, how did he die? Who found him?’
‘You were working closely with him, were you not?’
‘Indeed, we were very close. That is why I wish to know—’
The Old Wolf overrode him. ‘You were present, I believe, at what the wits of the Worshipful Company have dubbed the Massacre of the Cats?’
Quare gave a wary nod.
‘And that unfortunate event, unless I am gravely misinformed, had something to do with an unusual timepiece, a pocket watch – this pocket watch, in fact.’ At which, with a triumphant flourish, he pulled from beneath the desk the silver-cased hunter that was at the centre of all that had occurred.
So, Quare thought with a sinking heart, despite all the efforts of Master Magnus to keep the watch out of his rival’s hands, Grandmaster Wolfe had ended up with it anyway. And now, he realized further, his own role in deceiving the grandmaster must come to light. He did not know what the repercussions would be, but he did not doubt they would be severe. This was not the time to mourn his master. Nor to solve the mystery of his death. His own life might well be hanging in the balance. He must weigh every word with the utmost care.
‘Well, Mr Quare? Do you recognize this watch? It was found in Master Magnus’s hand, clutched so tightly in death that, I regret to say, his fingers had to be broken in order to extract it.’
‘I …’ How much should he admit to? How much did the Old Wolf already know? ‘I may have seen it before …’
‘Do not fence with me, sir,’ barked Grandmaster Wolfe. ‘This is the very timepiece that you took from Grimalkin, is it not? The timepiece that originally belonged to Lord Wichcote?’
Quare sighed; it seemed he had no choice now but to reveal the truth – or, at least, that portion of the truth which was known to him. ‘Yes, though I didn’t realize it at the time. That timepiece – the one you are holding, I mean – was hidden within the one I took from Grimalkin. Or so Master Magnus told me.’ He judged it best to say nothing yet of Grimalkin’s gender.
‘And what of the clock you brought to me, sir?’
‘Master Magnus gave it to me.’
‘And the story that went with it?’
‘Master Magnus provided that as well.’
‘I see. Both were counterfeit, then. I will hear the true story of what took place on that night from you, Mr Quare. But first, you will explain to me why Master Magnus took such extraordinary precautions to keep this watch from me. For I have examined it, and in truth I find it baffling. It seems no more than a model, a toy. Exquisitely crafted, to be sure. But useless as a means of telling time. Yet it was coveted by Lord Wichcote, Grimalkin, and Master Magnus – three men uncommonly well versed in the horological arts, whatever else one may say about them. The French, too, desired it, and dispatched Mr Aylesford to acquire it for them, by hook or by crook. Shall I tell you what I believe? If this hunter does not tell the time, then it must perform some other function – and somehow that function must be related to the Massacre of the Cats. It is, in short, despite its appearance, a weapon of some kind. A weapon with the potential to win the war for whichever side possesses it – for what may kill a cat may kill a man as well. Have I struck close to the mark, sir?’
‘I do not know,’ Quare answered. ‘I cannot explain the purpose of that watch. I do not know the secret of its functioning. If Master Magnus knew these things, he did not share them with me.’
‘You would do well to reconsider your loyalty to that man,’ said the Old Wolf, frowning. ‘He cannot protect you any longer – you must shift for yourself now, sir. Master Magnus had a duty to turn over this timepiece to me immediately. Yet he did not. What am I to think of that? What is Mr Pitt to think of it?’ He held up a hand to forestall any response. ‘Now you come to me with news of a French spy in our midst – Thomas Aylesford, to be precise. A man who is implicated in the murders of three journeymen of this guild, as well as in the deaths of some young noblemen who had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You yourself are wanted for questioning in the matter of these killings. Yes, I know all about your disgraceful exploits at the Pig and Rooster. I will be blunt, sir. Some suspect that Aylesford was not the only spy among us. That he had accomplices. Master Magnus, for one. And yourself, for another.’
‘What? That’s absurd!’ Quare exclaimed in disbelief. ‘Why, the man tried to kill me! Mrs Puddinge, you were there – you saw it!’
Mrs Puddinge shrugged and gave a tight-lipped smile, then addressed the Old Wolf. ‘I saw the two of ’em fighting, true enough, Sir Thaddeus, but I don’t know what caused the quarrel. I have only Mr Quare’s word for that. Perhaps they had a falling out.’