“Is that the end of the reconaissance?” Mr. Orney asked. “For we are getting into the turbulence of the Bridge, which on this rainy day, threatens to upset our boat.”
“Or at least our stomachs,” said Threader.
“Can we make it to Chapel Pier?” Daniel asked, pointing north across the flow to a mole that had been built upon the largest of the Bridge’s twenty starlings, midway along the span. “For I have something to shew the Clubb, not far from it, that shall be of great interest.”
“I vote we make the attempt,” said Mr. Threader, “on the condition that Dr. Waterhouse desist from any more such foreboding, vague, oracular adumbrations, and simply come out and tell us directly what he means.”
“Hear, hear!” said Orney, and after collecting a nod from Kikin, directed the oarsmen to turn north and cut across the river, allowing the current to sweep them away from the Bridge. Following which they were to turn Prudence’s blunt bow into the flow and work up to Chapel Pier. They executed their first turn directly in front of the Tatler-Lock, which Daniel gazed at raptly, as if he had a whole poke full of nicked watches he longed to fence there.
“Next order of business,” said Mr. Threader, “to extract from Dr. Waterhouse an explanation of why we are here; which ought to include some intelligence as to why our Clubb’s treasury, so prudently and jealously husbanded these months, is of a sudden brought to such a desperate pass.”
“Our newest member-though he could not join us to-day, and forwards his regrets-will presently help make it whole,” Daniel assured him.
“That is fortunate-if true-for our other absent member is in arrears.”
“Mr. Arlanc has provided us with a wealth of information instead,” Daniel returned.
“Then why is he not here, further to enrich us?”
“He does not know how useful he has been. I mean to keep him ill-informed.”
“And the rest of us, too, ’twould seem,” returned Mr. Orney, earning him a rare nod from Mr. Threader. As for Mr. Kikin, he had gone into the mode of the Long-Suffering Russian, smoking his pipe and saying naught.
“John Doe confessed he was no madman,” Daniel said-for during lulls he had already narrated to his fellow passengers the first part of the tale of his and Isaac’s raid on Bedlam. “But he said there was nothing we could do to him, to induce him to tell what he knew.”
“A familiar predicament,” mumbled Kikin around his pipe-stem. “He is more scared of Jack than of you. I know some tortures-”
“Sir!” huffed Mr. Threader, “this is England!”
“We bribe people here,” Daniel said. “The negotiations were lengthy, the tale tedious. Suffice it to say that according to the parish records John Doe is dead, and a grave is being dug for him in Bethlem Burying Ground.”
“How did you kill him?” Kikin inquired politely.
“The hole will be plugged with a cadaver from the cellars of the Royal Society, where it will never be missed. A man having marked similarities to John Doe, but a different name, is en route to Bristol. He will ship out to Carolina next week, to work for some years as an indentured servant. And as reward for having seen to all of these arrangements-which were complicated and expensive-we have had from him a full account of why he was knocking holes in the plasterwork of Bedlam.”
“And may we hear it? Or will you, too, insist on being made a farm-hand in Carolina?” Threader said.
“That will not be necessary, thank you,” Daniel returned politely. “John Doe let us know that he was only one of several Hoisters, Dubbers, and Mill-Layers-these are different specialties under the broad heading of House-Breakers-who took it upon themselves to respond to an Opportunity bruited about the Tatler-Lock and other such kens by a personage whose identity was not announced but who was suspected to be Jack the Coiner. This personage let it be known he was interested in certain buildings-specifically for what might be concealed in the walls of those buildings. Anyone who entered a building on the list, and extracted aught from its walls, was to take it to the Tatler-Lock and give the personage an opportunity to buy it. He is only interested in certain items, not others-so each must be carefully appraised before ’twill be paid for.”
“Jack must desire these things-whatever they are-quite ardently, if he is truly willing to expose himself thus,” said Orney.
“Perhaps this gives us a means to entrap him!” said Threader.
“Alas, it is not quite so simple,” Daniel said. “For the goods were to be fenced through an Arabian auction.”
Mr. Kikin was amused by the blank expressions on the faces of Orney and Kikin. “Shall I explain it?” he offered to Daniel. “For it is how Russians trade with Turks, even when we are at war with them.”
“Prithee.”
“When the Arab wishes to trade in dangerous circumstances-for example, across the Sahara with the Negro-he drives his caravan south to some oasis, and goes out some distance into the open waste, and piles up on the sand those goods he offers for trade. Then he withdraws to some remove beyond spear-range, yet still nigh enough that he is able to keep watch over his goods. The Negro now feels safe in venturing to the same place, where he piles up nearby those goods he offers in exchange. He withdraws and the Arab ventures out again, inspects the Negro’s offerings, and adds to or takes from his pile. And so it goes, back and forth, until one is satisfied, which he betokens by packing up and hauling away the counterpart’s offerings. The other waits until he has withdrawn, then goes out a last time to take possession of what remains.”
“Provided one is willing to do without the exotic accoutrements of dunes, camels, et cetera, the same can be done in any empty room of the Tatler-Lock,” Daniel said. “The Hoister and the Client need never see each other. They need only trust Mr. Knockmealdown-which, be it prudent or no, they do.”
“I have a foreboding of what it is that you intend,” Mr. Threader said, “since you are, as of three days ago, in possession of loot from the walls of Bedlam. But do you not think that a Fellow of the Royal Society, if he participates in this Arabian auction, shall be noticed by the sort of man who frequents the kens of Mr. Knockmealdown, and that word of the anomaly shall soon reach the ears of Jack?”
“The plan was proposed by none other than Sir Isaac himself,” Daniel said. “He likened it to the hunter’s stratagem whereby a goat or other expendable beast is tethered to a stake out in a clearing in the woods, to draw predatory animals to a place where they may be easily shot. We know not what Jack seeks, but very likely it is included among the goods we have found in Bedlam-therefore we have what is needed to establish a Stake-out of our own. Mr. Threader avers that this will never work if one of us attempts it. Sir Isaac has foreseen this objection. He suggests that we adopt his practice of going into the ken disguised as members of the criminal element.”
This notion produced frigid silence among the Clubb. Before the others could recover their wits and throw Daniel overboard, he continued: “Fortunately we have already an understanding with Mr. Partry, who is as comfortable in such kens as Mr. Orney is in church. He has agreed to act as our representative in the auction.”
“That is even worse!” Kikin cried. “Partry hunts and prosecutes thieves for a living!”
“No, no, no. You still don’t understand,” said Mr. Threader, finding Kikin’s slowness just a bit distasteful. “The whole point of thief-takers is that they are themselves criminals-else, how could they get anything accomplished?”
“So you are going to give some valuables to a thief, entrusting him to take them to the most colossal thieves’ market in Christendom, where he will sell them at auction to another thief-?”
“He is a very reputable thief,” returned Mr. Threader. “I really do not understand you, sir-you are the one who recruited him.”
At this Kikin could only roll his eyes, in the universal manner of foreigners in collision with Anglo-Saxon logic. He sighed and withdrew to his end of the plank.