“I’d hoped to make your acquaintance once again,” he said, and sat without waiting to be invited.
I presented Leonidas to him, who nodded and spoke a few pleasant and forgettable words, as was his habit when I treated him as an equal. Burr looked at the bottle of wine, having clearly heard rumor of my bottomless supply. I called for a fresh glass and a fresh bottle.
With wine in hand, he appeared ever more relaxed. “What brings you to New York, Saunders? I hear you have been making inquiries of Duer. Are you making inquiries for Hamilton?”
“I’m merely curious,” I said.
He knew an obfuscation when he heard one, and I had no doubt he had issued more than his share. “Then you are not upon Treasury Department business?”
“I am upon personal business,” I said, as though this were but more casual conversation. “Tell me, have you seen Jacob Pearson here in New York?”
“I have seen him in New York, but not recently. Are you hoping to create a reunion of our little circle from the Bingham house?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the two of us, Pearson, and that delightful Mrs. Maycott.”
This was interesting. “She is in New York?”
“Oh, yes, she has rooms in a boardinghouse on Wall Street. You must be careful, though. A rich widow is always an attractive target, but her Irishman doesn’t let any suitors too close.”
It was tempting to jump to conclusions, but I could not know that this was the same Irishman I’d met outside the Statehouse. New York was more full of Irishmen than Ireland. “Have you met this guardian?”
“Oh yes. Very imposing fellow. Not young, but tall, hairless as an egg, and smelling of whiskey. I would not recommend crossing him.”
The charming and beautiful Mrs. Maycott, who claimed to be my best friend in this affair, was in league with the bald and giant Irishman from the Statehouse. This was disturbing news indeed.
“As for Pearson,” he continued, “that is a more difficult matter. They say he is hiding from the Treasury Department, though no one knows precisely why. I suppose that is why Freneau is passing his time here in New York. He must wish to find Pearson as well as you, though I imagine for different reasons.”
“Philip Freneau?” said Leonidas. “ Jefferson ’s newspaper man? What has he to do with all of this?”
“I don’t know,” said Burr, “but if you wish to know, I can think of no better method of discovering the truth than asking him. He is sitting across the room.”
Fortunately, he had the good sense to do no more than gesture with his head. I looked over, and there indeed was a gentleman I recognized. I could not disguise my astonishment. I knew the man’s name and I knew his face, but I had never before associated the one with the other. It was the frog-faced man whom I had seen watching me all over Philadelphia. He sat behind a pillar so he was mostly obscured, and he was looking away at the moment, but every few minutes he glanced in my direction. He took a lazy note on a piece of foolscap. The man who had appeared everywhere I went was Jefferson ’s newspaper man.
“He has been following me for some time,” I said to Burr. “Have you any idea why?”
“I imagine it is because he believes you can lead him to a story for his newspaper, and if it is for his paper, it must be something to make Hamilton look poorly.”
“Do you know the man?” I asked.
“Not well, but I know him a little. I’ve had a few social interactions.”
“Is he a physical man?” I asked. “Does he possess courage?”
“Not that I’ve seen,” said Burr.
I glanced at Leonidas. He said, “Good.”
N ot long after that, Mr. Burr excused himself. Leonidas and I entertained a few more speculators in search of good claret and dropped a few more hints about the Million Bank, but I kept my eye on the froggy Mr. Freneau. At near eight o’clock, he left the Merchants’, and Leonidas and I followed him. There could be no guarantee that his path would provide an opportunity for us, but as it turned out, the streets were quiet and poorly lit, and it was no difficult task to find our moment.
We approached him quietly from behind, and Leonidas turned his shoulder outward and slammed hard into Mr. Freneau’s back. Leonidas then stepped back-men are more indignant if they know they are knocked down by a Negro-and I moved forward to take his place. “I do beg your pardon,” I said, picking up Mr. Freneau’s leather bag, which he had dropped as an inevitable result of Leonidas’s expertly placed blow. It was dark and thus easy for my fingers to explore inside, extract a thick package of folded papers, and slip them into my own coat. “Your bag, sir,” I said, holding it out.
He snatched the bag with great irritation. “You did that purposefully.”
“For what reason,” I demanded, “would I knock down a stranger on purpose?”
“Come, Saunders. You must know by now I’ve been keeping my eye on you.”
I gasped. “Can it be?”
“You may choose to play games,” said Freneau, “but I think it time we dealt openly.”
Being in possession of Freneau’s documents, I could not help but think the advantage was mine, so I invited him to join me in the taproom of Fraunces Tavern. I was happy to escape the cold, and we made ourselves comfortable near the fire. Before I could call for refreshment, the publican came forth to inform me that Duer had made the same arrangement with him as with the owner of the Merchants’. I therefore asked him to send me two of his best bottles of wine. I did not want them for myself, only to make Duer pay and to make him believe I depended more on his generosity than I did.
“Now, then,” I said to Freneau, “perhaps you will tell me what you wish of me.”
“You know what I wish. I wish to know what Duer and Hamilton are up to.”
“They are not up to anything together.”
“Together, separate, it hardly matters. You will find it is all of a piece. Now, out with it. There has been something brewing for some time. I’ve long felt it. This is an election year, you know, and my readers must have the truth.”
“Perhaps you should first tell us what you know, since I too must have the truth. You say what you know, and then I will add what I can.”
Freneau pressed his lips together in satisfaction, which made him look all the more froggish. “I know Duer plans to gain ownership of the Million Bank. He puts it about that he thinks the scheme will fail, but it is only so he and his agents can obtain more shares themselves.”
“What is the harm in that? Many predict the bank won’t survive, but if Duer wants to invest in it may he not do so?”
“Duer lies. He warns everyone away from the Million Bank launch, and then he plans to move in with his agents to gain a controlling share. What happens then? It’s a new bank. It is regarded with interest and enthusiasm. The value of its shares rise, and, inevitably, the value of the shares of other banks falls. It may be temporary, but it happens. But if a man controls enough of one bank he can then use the artificial value of the inflated price of shares to buy up a controlling interest in another bank. In this case, Duer thinks he can use the Million Bank to take over the Bank of the United States. When he is done, the most venal man in America will hold in his hands the nation’s finances, and Hamilton will have all but handed his bank over to him.”
“It is a fantasy of Hamilton-haters,” I said. “Why should Hamilton wish to sacrifice the bank, the thing of which he is most proud, by surrendering it to Duer?”
“ Hamilton wishes to erase the difference between the government and the moneyed interests,” said Freneau. “He wants to out-British the British, to build a corrupt nation, run by the rich, who use land and people as a factory for their greed.”