Part 21 (2/2)

”Yes, of course. And may I call you Benjamin?”

”Absolutely. So: Isaac, my friend, why these questions pertaining to Johnstone's knee?”

”A thief entered Mr. Bidwell's house early this morning,” Woodward said, leaning his head forward. Smoke moved sinuously between himself and the doctor. ”Whoever it was, he stole a gold coin from my clerk's room-”

”Ah, yes.” s.h.i.+elds nodded. ”The famous coin. I heard about it from Malcolm Jennings when he came to have a boil lanced.”

”I encountered the thief in the hallway,” Woodward continued. ”He was a big man, with the strength of a bull. I fought him as best I could, but as he had caught me from behind I was at the disadvantage.” It seemed more true now in his recollection that this had occurred, and who was to say it had not? ”Everything happened so quickly,” Woodward said. ”I didn't see his face. He knocked a lamp from my hand and fled down the staircase. Of course I know Mr. Johnstone's deformity is severe, but... my clerk wanted to learn whether you've inspected his knee, and if he's capable of such an action.”

s.h.i.+elds laughed. ”Surely you're not serious! Alan Johnstone a thief! thief! I should say that in all of Fount Royal there's no one who'd be less a thief! The man's from a wealthy family!” I should say that in all of Fount Royal there's no one who'd be less a thief! The man's from a wealthy family!”

”I presumed so, since he did attend All Souls' College at Oxford, but one never knows.”

”I've personally seen his gold pocket watch, inscribed with his initials. He owns a gold ring with a ruby in it the size of a man's fingernail!” s.h.i.+elds laughed again, rather giddily. ”A thief indeed! No, it wouldn't be possible for Alan to run down a staircase. You've seen how he depends on his cane.”

”Yes, I have. But the theory that I believe my clerk is advancing-and understand, please, that he's young and his imagination roams unrestrained-is that Mr. Johnstone's knee appears appears to be malformed, but is in truth-his-theory, now-as normal as yours or mine.” to be malformed, but is in truth-his-theory, now-as normal as yours or mine.”

s.h.i.+elds blinked, took a sip of smoke, blinked again, and then his face broke into a merry grin. ”Oh, you're wearing a jester's cap now, is that it?”

Woodward shrugged. ”My clerk is quite serious. Therefore I had to make the inquiry.”

The doctor's grin faltered. ”This is the most... unbalanced thing I've ever heard! You can see the deformity of his knee through his stocking! He's been in Fount Royal for three years! Why in the world would it serve him to devise such a pretense?”

”I have no idea. Again, please understand that Matthew is a very intelligent young man, but that sometimes his mind is unfettered by common sense.”

”I should say so!” s.h.i.+elds smoked his remedy some more, and so did the magistrate. Woodward was feeling quite better now, most of the pain having left his throat and his breathing pa.s.sages much clearer. The movement of the smoke entranced him, and the quality of the light entering the room was like gray silk. ”I will will tell you something about Alan that you might find of interest,” s.h.i.+elds suddenly confided. ”About his wife, I mean.” He pitched his voice a little lower. ”Her name was Margaret. She was... how shall I say this... of a peculiar character.” tell you something about Alan that you might find of interest,” s.h.i.+elds suddenly confided. ”About his wife, I mean.” He pitched his voice a little lower. ”Her name was Margaret. She was... how shall I say this... of a peculiar character.”

”In what way?”

”A lovely woman, no doubt. But... her bell was somewhat cracked. I never witnessed any of her outbursts, but I heard from reliable sources that she was quite the h.e.l.lion, with a penchant for throwing whatever came to hand. Winston witnessed it, one night at Bidwell's house. The woman flew into a rage and smashed a platter of chicken against the wall. And there was the other thing.” s.h.i.+elds let his sentence hang while he puffed his hemp stick, which was beginning to burn down between his fingers. ”One moment.” He got up, went to the workbench, and returned with the small stub of hemp clamped in the probe as the cotton had been. He sat down again, a mischievous s.h.i.+ne in his eyes. ”Mrs. Johnstone and the husband of that poor woman in the infirmary...” He motioned with an angling of his head in the direction of the other room. ”They had a number of a.s.signations.”

”Noles and Johnstone's wife?”

”Correct. And quite bold about it, as I recall. Many knew what was going on-including Noles's wife. In time someone told Alan, but I think it came as no surprise to him. Well, Margaret despised Fount Royal anyway-she made no secret of that-and so Alan took her back to England to live with her parents. She was of wealthy stock too-her father was in the textile business-but I believe she was a trifle overbred. A few months later, Alan returned here and the matter was forgotten.”

”Adultery is a serious offense,” Woodward said. ”Did he not wish to press charges?”

”I honestly think he was relieved to be rid of the woman. She was a menace to his reputation, and certainly lacking in decorum. Alan is a quiet, thoughtful man who keeps to himself for the most part, but he does have a cutting wit.”

”He must be a dedicated teacher, to have returned so soon to Fount Royal.”

”That he is. He's taken it upon himself to educate not only the children here, but many of the farmers who can't read. And of course the salary Bidwell pays him is hardly enough to buy a needle and thread, but as I say the schoolmaster has money of his own.”

Woodward nodded, drawing once more on his hemp stick; it had burned quite well down, and he could feel its heat between his fingers. In fact, he felt very warm all over now, and was perspiring. This was a good thing, he thought. It must mean that he was sweating out the bad humours. His eyes felt heavy-lidded, and without much prompting he could lie down and take a nap. ”What about Winston?” he asked.

”What of him?”

”I mean, what do you know about him?”

s.h.i.+elds grinned, smoke leaking between his teeth. ”Am I on the witness stand, sir?”

”No, and I don't intend to sound like a magistrate. I'd simply like to know more about the people here.”

”I see,” s.h.i.+elds said, though from his tone of voice it was clear he still believed court was in session. After a pause of deliberation, he said, ”Edward Winston is a loyal mule. You know that Winston was Bidwell's office manager in London, don't you? He's an excellent administrator, organizer, and bean counter. He, too, keeps quite to himself. I think in his case he's a bit uncomfortable around people. But it was was his idea to bring the maskers here.” his idea to bring the maskers here.”

”The maskers?”

”Yes. The actors, that is. Bidwell's fond of the theater. For the past three summers, a travelling company has come to enact a morality play. It does seem to bring some culture and civilization out here in the wilderness. At least, the citizens have something to look forward to every year. They come in mid-July, so it's a pity you won't be present to see them.” s.h.i.+elds took one last puff and realized he had reached the end of his stick. ”Then again,” he said, ”Fount Royal may not be here in mid-July, either.”

”What of Nicholas Paine?” Woodward asked. ”Do you know him well?”

”Nicholas Paine,” the doctor repeated. He smiled slightly. ”Yes, I do know him well.”

”He seems an able man.” Woodward was thinking of that term Paine had used: black-flagger. ”What do you know of his history?”

”I know he has one. A history, I mean.”

”I'd call that a cryptic remark,” Woodward said when s.h.i.+elds lapsed into silence.

”Nicholas is a very private man,” s.h.i.+elds offered. ”He has been a jack-of-all-trades. Was a seaman for a number of years, I understand. But he's not open to discussing his past at much length.”

”Is he married? Does he have a family?”

”He was was married, when he was a younger man. His wife perished from an illness that caused her to suffer fits until she died.” married, when he was a younger man. His wife perished from an illness that caused her to suffer fits until she died.”

Woodward had lifted the small stub to his mouth for a final inhalation; now, however, his hand froze. ”Fits?” he said. He swallowed thickly. ”What kind of fits?”

”Convulsions, I suppose.” The doctor shrugged. ”Some form of fever, most probably. Or the plague. But it was long ago, and I'm sure Paine wouldn't care to speak about it. In fact, I know he would not.”

”The plague,” Woodward repeated. His eyes had become glazed, not entirely from the bitterly compelling smoke of his remedy.

”Isaac?” s.h.i.+elds, noting the other man's vacant stare, touched the magistrate's sleeve. ”What is it?”

”Oh, forgive me.” Woodward blinked, waved some of the fumes away from his face, and brought himself back to his surroundings. ”I was thinking, that's all.”

s.h.i.+elds nodded, a sly smile twisting his mouth. ”Yes. Thinking of whom you might ask questions about me, is that correct?”

”No. About something else entirely.”

”But you are are planning on inquiring about me, are you not? It would only be fair, since you've pumped the well concerning the schoolmaster, Mr. Winston, and Mr. Paine. Ah, I believe you're done with that! May I?” He took the burnt-down stub from Woodward's hand and placed it, along with the remnant of his own, into a small pewter jar, which he then closed with a hinged lid. ”Are you feeling better now?” planning on inquiring about me, are you not? It would only be fair, since you've pumped the well concerning the schoolmaster, Mr. Winston, and Mr. Paine. Ah, I believe you're done with that! May I?” He took the burnt-down stub from Woodward's hand and placed it, along with the remnant of his own, into a small pewter jar, which he then closed with a hinged lid. ”Are you feeling better now?”

”Yes. Remarkably so.”

”Good. As I said, you might have to repeat the treatment according to your const.i.tution. We shall see.” s.h.i.+elds stood up. ”Now allow me to escort you to Van Gundy's tavern for a cup of his excellent hard cider. Also he has a stock of peanuts on hand, as I'm feeling quite hungry. Will you join me?”

”I would be honored.”

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