Part 7 (1/2)
Elias nodded. ”I am surprised you know that. Yes, Dogmill is Hertcomb's patron and, as such, Hertcomb has been instrumental in the pa.s.sage of several bills that favor the tobacco trade in general and Dogmill in particular. He is also Hertcomb's election agent.”
I slammed my hand upon the table. ”Let us use your wondrous ideas of probability and see what we know. A priest spoke up for the rights of the porters who unload Dogmill's tobacco and then received a threat, warning him to cease his actions. Next, a leader of the labor agitators is killed, and I am arrested for the crime. The judge at my trial, a Whig, does all in his power to convict me, but when his feet are to the fire, he blames a great Tory. When I approach a location where any searcher might hope to find me, it is guarded by men of the Riding Office, who ought to concern themselves with smuggled cargo rather than escaped murderers. Given the generally acknowledged corruption of customs officers, who are said to be in the pockets of the most powerful merchants, I believe I can deploy the mechanisms of probability and determine the ident.i.ty of the villain.”
”Dennis Dogmill,” Elias breathed.
”Precisely. I should love to see him swing after the rude treatment he meted out when I tried to speak with him. He must be the man. There is no other person who would want to see Walter Yate dead, have the power to make another man hang for the crime, and and want to set me against Griffin Melbury.” want to set me against Griffin Melbury.”
Elias studied my face. ”You must be disappointed,” he said, ”to discover that Melbury is very likely not your foe.”
I admitted to myself that he was right, but I would not give him the satisfaction of saying so. ”Why should I be?”
”Come now, Weaver, you have been out of sorts this last half year, ever since you learned that that pretty cousin of yours had joined the Church and married Melbury. I cannot but think you would take some delight in the thought of exposing him for a villain. After all, if Melbury were hanged, Mrs. Melbury might marry once more.”
”I have more things to concern myself than affairs of the heart,” I said weakly. ”For now I shall content myself in almost certain knowledge that Dennis Dogmill is my enemy.” I was not so content at all, and I had not yet entirely abandoned the notion that Melbury might not be somehow involved-or perhaps that I could involve him.
”Dogmill is well known to be cruel and sour,” Elias agreed, ”but if he did have Yate killed, why should he seek to harm you of all men? The docks are swarming with the lowest fellows on earth, men who would hardly know how to speak a word on their own behalf, who would offer no worthwhile defense of themselves, and who would certainly not have the mettle to break from Newgate. Why a.s.sign blame to a man whom he must know would fiercely resist this usage?”
I shook my head. ”I agree that it does not seem wise. I had little chance to learn anything of the matter of the threatening notes. I was arrested at the very beginning of my inquiry, so it cannot be that Dogmill wished to silence me, for I have nothing yet to say. I believe this question must be the key. If I can learn why Dogmill wished to punish me, I can discover some way to prove myself innocent.”
He frowned skeptically. ”And how will you do this?”
”Tomorrow I shall go to Ufford and see if he can offer me any more information. And there are a few others I must seek out. For now, I must get my sleep.”
”I will leave you then.” He rose and replaced his hat, and then turned to me. ”One more question. Who is this Johnson fellow the witnesses against you were speaking of?”
I shook my head. ”I'd forgotten about that. The name means nothing to me.”
”Very strange. That young fellow, Spicer, appeared particularly eager that the world should a.s.sociate you with this Johnson.”
”I thought so too, yet I know no one by that name.”
”I suspect you may yet,” he prophesied-and, as it turned out, quite correctly too.
We then determined another tavern where we might meet the next night. As he prepared to leave, however, Elias hesitated for a moment and then extracted a small purse from his coat.
”I've brought you an enema and an emetic. I hope you will be wise enough to use them.”
”I really must get some sleep.”
”You'll sleep better if you cleanse yourself. You must trust me, Weaver. I am, after all, a medical man.” With that, he departed, leaving me to stare at his generous gift.
CHAPTER 7.
THERE WERE some curious glances at the Turk and Sun when I took a room there that night. From my livery they must have concluded that I had run away from an unkind master, but as I paid my reckoning in advance with ready cash, there were no questions put to me, and I was shown to my room with reasonable cheer. some curious glances at the Turk and Sun when I took a room there that night. From my livery they must have concluded that I had run away from an unkind master, but as I paid my reckoning in advance with ready cash, there were no questions put to me, and I was shown to my room with reasonable cheer.
I intended to do nothing with Elias's medicine, but in a fit of restlessness I chose to administer the dosages, and though I spent an hour or more in the greatest discomfort, I confess I felt mightily cleansed thereafter and slept longer and deeper than I likely should have otherwise, though my dreams were a wild and incoherent jumble of prisons and hangings and escapes. After I had voided my body I called for a hot bath, that I might wash away the vermin of the prison, but they were soon enough replaced by the vermin of the tavern.
The purges had the effect of leaving me enormous hungry, however, and in the morning I ate my breakfast of bread and warm milk with great relish. Then, still in my footman's disguise, I began my journey to the home of Mr. Ufford, who I hoped would be able to shed some light on my troubles. As I walked the street, now in the light of day, I felt the most unusual sensation. I was at liberty but not free at all. I had to remain in disguise until . . . until I hardly knew what. I would have thought that I must prove my innocence, but I had already done that.
I could not dwell upon these difficulties fully, for they made me far too uneasy. I wanted only to keep occupied, and I believed that Ufford might well have information to aid me. I found, however, that when I presented myself at his door, the priest's serving man showed no sign of granting me admittance. To a third party, our encounter would have appeared very much like two dogs evaluating each other, each wis.h.i.+ng nothing but the worst for the other lest his rival receive too many caresses from their master.
”I must speak with Mr. Ufford,” I told this fellow.
”And who are you, that you must speak with him?”
I certainly could not tell him that. ”Never mind who I am,” I said. ”Let me speak to him, and I promise you your master will tell you that you've done right.”
”As to that, I shan't allow you to enter based on that promise of someone when I don't know who it is,” he said. ”You will give me your name or you will go. Indeed, I think it very likely you will do both.”
I could not allow a meeting of such vital importance to be prevented by this fine fellow's sense of duty. ”You will find that I'll do neither,” I said, and shoved him aside and forced my way past him. Having not previously been in any room but the kitchens, I had no idea where I might find Mr. Ufford, but I fortunately heard voices coming from down a hallway, so I made my way there, with the servant all the while close behind me and pulling at my shoulder the way an untrained lapdog nips at its keeper.
I burst into the room where Ufford was sitting and sipping wine with a young man of not more than five and twenty. This fellow was also dressed in the humorless blacks of a churchman, but his clothes were of an inferior cut. Both men looked up in surprise as I forced the door open. Perhaps Ufford's expression might be more fairly characterized as fear. He leaped from his chair, splas.h.i.+ng wine upon his breeches, and took three steps backward.
”What is this?” he demanded of me.
”I beg your pardon, sir,” the servant said. ”This rogue pushed his way past me before I could stop him.”
”I am sorry that doing so was necessary,” I said to Ufford, ”but I am afraid I need to speak with you urgently, and the normal channels are not open to me just now.”
Ufford stared at me with disbelief until something seemed to slide into place inside his brain, and he recognized me despite my costume. ”Oh, yes. Of course.” He coughed like a stage actor and brushed at the stain. ”You will excuse me, Mr. North,” he said to his guest. ”We will have to continue speaking of our business another time. I will call on you tomorrow, perhaps.”
”Certainly,” the other murmured, rising to his feet. He looked harshly at me, as though I had arranged this little scene for no purpose but to embarra.s.s him, and then he glared at Ufford. I make no special claims to know the secrets of the human heart, but I could not doubt that this Mr. North hated Ufford, and violently so.
Once he and the servant had left, Ufford came over to me, tiptoeing as though to perform the degree of stealth this meeting required. He took my hand most gingerly and hunched over. ”Benjamin,” he said in a hushed voice, ”I'm glad you've come.”
”I don't know that such precautions as whispering are strictly required,” I said in something short of my normal volume-for quiet is contagious-”unless your servant is listening at the door.”
”I hardly think so,” Ufford said in a now very loud voice, all the while skulking toward the door with his arms stretched out like a bird's wings. ”I know I can count on Barber to conduct himself as befits his station. I need not even check on him.” With that he threw the door wide open to reveal an empty hallway. ”Ah,” he said, when he'd once more pressed the door shut. ”You see? Safe after all. No need to worry. Though I suppose there is every reason for you to worry, isn't there. But let us not worry for now. Come, a gla.s.s of wine, to restore your spirits. You do drink wine, I hope? I know many men of the lower sort never take it.”
”I drink wine,” I a.s.sured him, believing I should have to take a great deal of it to endure this interview. Once he had handed me the gla.s.s and I took my seat (he never invited me, and appeared a bit out of sorts when I lowered myself unbidden, but I could not trouble myself for such niceties now), I gestured toward the door with my head. ”Who was that man?”
”Oh, that was just Mr. North. He is the curate who serves in my parish in Wapping. He's resumed his preaching duties since I've started receiving those notes. Have you made any progress in discovering the author?”
I stared at him. ”You do understand, sir, that I have been otherwise absorbed.”
”Oh, yes. I understand that. But I also understand that you made a promise to me, and a promise remains a promise though the fulfilling is more difficult than we antic.i.p.ated. How shall you ever raise yourself if you are deterred from performing the services you have contracted to perform?”
”At this particular moment, I am much more concerned with avoiding swinging from a halter than I am in raising myself. But as it happens, I am now prepared to return to your affairs, as I believe that the discovery of the author of those notes will shed some light on my own predicament.”
”I hardly think that a fit reason to pursue the work I paid you to perform. Is not the satisfaction of a job performed incentive enough? In any case, I should like to know what predicament you refer to.”
”The predicament of my having been convicted of a murder I did not commit,” I said very slowly, as though the sluggishness of my speech might help him to understand me better. ”I cannot but suspect I was tried for that man's death because I intended to discover the author of those notes.”
”Oh, ho!” he cried. ”Very good, sir. Very good. A murder you did not commit. We shall play that little game if you like. You will find me agreeable in that.”
”There is no game, sir. I did not harm Walter Yate, and I have no idea who did.”