Part 11 (1/2)
”Is it not a little sanctimonious for Wild to look down upon such cheating?”
”I don't know that he looks down on it. I suppose he admires it. I merely meant to inform you of the sort of enemy you face. Dogmill is a bad man, Weaver, you may be sure of that; it is not every scoundrel that Wild hesitates to cross. It is not merely his power that Wild fears, it's his rage. The man was cast from his school at Cambridge for torturing his tutor. One day Dogmill could no longer accept the tutor's demands of a Latin memorization or some such nonsense, so he horsewhipped him as though he were a servant. I have heard of three instances in which he's beaten men to death with his fists. Each time, the magistrate dismissed the matter as self-defense, for Dogmill insisted that he had been attacked. But I know from a reliable witness that, in one of these attacks, Dogmill was accosted by a beggar looking for a bit of copper for bread. Dogmill spun around and beat the fellow in the skull until his head was quite broken.”
”I believe myself equal to a man who beats down beggars.”
”I have no doubt you are. I only warn you that he is vicious and unpredictable. All the more reason why Wild should like to see him gone.”
”I suppose, with Wild's own smuggling vessels, he wants Dogmill out of the way to gain a better grasp on the quays.”
”That is it exactly. A few years ago, I made some inquiries on Wild's behalf with a few of the more powerful men on the parish boards. It soon became clear that no one dared to cross Dogmill in this regard. And he let us know that if we tried to interfere with his business, things would go hard for us.”
”So Wild testified in my favor because he could do so while pretending to know nothing of Dogmill's involvement in Yate's death.”
”Precisely.”
”And that is why he sent the woman with the lockpick.”
Mendes leaned in. ”Wild told me about the woman. He said you must have set it up. Her technique, he reported, was rough but adequate.”
”Come, Mendes. Am I to believe that you and your master were not behind this woman?”
”Wild is a man who loves to boast, and I am one of the few people to whom he can boast freely. If he did not commend himself for that action, I can promise you he was not behind it.”
”I don't believe you,” I said.
He shrugged. ”Believe what you will. I cannot make you see the truth of it, but surely you must admit that if Wild had done you this favor, there would be nothing gained by refusing to acknowledge it.”
I could not but see his logic. ”Then who?”
”I don't know. I would suggest that finding this woman, or finding who sent her, may help you discover what it is that Dogmill thinks you know.”
I took a moment to consider his words. ”What do you know of a man called Johnson? One of the false witnesses at my trial said that I announced myself to be in his service.”
Mendes shook his head. ”It means nothing to me.”
”And what of Dogmill's roughs? I find it hard to believe that the foremost tobacco merchant in the city goes about murdering porters on his own. He must have fellows he deploys for his dirty work.”
Mendes shook his head again. ”I would think so myself, but I have never heard of any such men. Surprising though it may be, I have concluded that he does indeed go about murdering porters himself. Dogmill has no fear of violence. He relishes it, and if he was of a disposition not to entrust his crimes to the silence of some ruffian or other, he might well have killed Yate with his own hands.”
”And he might not have,” I observed.
He grinned wickedly. ”True enough. I suppose I don't know very much at all.”
A moment of silence pa.s.sed between us, for it seemed as though there was little more to say.
”Very well.” I drained my gla.s.s and stood. ”Thank you for your time.”
”Thank you for feeding my beasts,” he said.
”Just one more thing.” I turned to him. ”The metropolis is crawling with men who want that bounty on my head. Is there some way Wild could call off his men?”
”No,” he said. ”Wild won't appear to support you publicly. He might have hazarded it if you supplied information to help destroy Dogmill, but he will not risk the notice of the law on the one hand and Dogmill on the other. It will have to be enough that he is not actively seeking you out. You should be more than a match for the brutish fellows who might attempt to outwit you.”
”One would think that if I remove this great enemy of Wild's, he would be in my debt.”
”You are already in his debt.”
”And why is that?”
”Because he has decided not to capture you for the bounty.”
”Do you really think he could?”
”I could,” Mendes said, without a hint of good-natured teasing. ”But you need not fear. And I might add that I am willing to go where Wild is not. This must remain between us, but if you do find yourself in need, you may safely call on me.”
I studied his deep-set eyes. ”And why is that?”
He took a breath. ”I told you that when we first began to inquire into Dogmill's doings, I was the one who went forth to learn the lay of the land. It would seem that, because I engaged in the reconnoiter, I became the target of Dogmill's anger. I had a dog back then, a wondrous beast called Blackie. These two are very fine dogs, make no mistake of it.” He paused to pet them, that they might not feel neglected. ”Yes, these are good animals, but Blackie was a great friend. I was used to taking him to the tavern with me and on my way. Though he had the heart of a lamb, the sight of him drove fear into the hearts of all who opposed us. And then one day he was gone.”
”You think taken by Dogmill.”
”I know it. I received a note not a week later in which the anonymous writer detailed how poorly Blackie had acquitted himself in the dogfighting pits of Smithfield. Dogmill was not mentioned, but he is known to have a taste for blood sport, and there was no misunderstanding the message. Dogmill meant for us to keep away from him and his business. He made a point of discovering what he could about us and so learned of my fondness for my dog. It took all of Wild's protestations and a dozen men to hold me down, to convince me not to murder the blackguard. But Wild promised me Dogmill's time would come, so I will do what I can for you, Weaver, to make that time come the sooner.”
”How did he get the dog out from under your nose?”
”Do you remember a fellow that used to travel with Wild, a funny-looking Irishman called Onionhead O'Neil?”
”Yes, a peculiar fellow with orange whiskers. What ever became of him?” I asked, but then I knew the answer at once. ”I suppose nothing good.”
”Onionhead thought it worth a few s.h.i.+llings to side with Dogmill against a helpless beast. I had no mercy on such a one as he. And I can have no mercy on Dogmill. If you want my help, Weaver, you need but let me know.”
CHAPTER 10.
ON THE AGREED-UPON day, I visited Mr. Swan, who had my first suit, with an a.s.sortment of s.h.i.+rts and hose and linen ready for me. Swan had taken the liberty of collecting the wigs from his brother-in-law, and he a.s.sured me that he would have two more suits for me by the end of the week. I could only imagine that he had been working through the nights and would continue to do without sleep. day, I visited Mr. Swan, who had my first suit, with an a.s.sortment of s.h.i.+rts and hose and linen ready for me. Swan had taken the liberty of collecting the wigs from his brother-in-law, and he a.s.sured me that he would have two more suits for me by the end of the week. I could only imagine that he had been working through the nights and would continue to do without sleep.
I suppose I should have donned these clothes with a certain sense of wonder, but the truth is I dressed with no more ceremony than I usually reserved for so mundane an act. All, however, was much to my liking. I examined with pleasure my dark-blue velvet coat with large silver b.u.t.tons. The s.h.i.+rt was well laced, the breeches finely shaped. I tried on the first wig, which was of a bob variety, different enough from my own hair, which I wore in the style of a tie wig. Only when I looked in the mirror did I feel anything new. I must admit, I hardly knew myself.
I turned to Swan and inquired of the good tailor what monies I owed him.
”Not a thing, Mr. Weaver. Not a thing,” he said.
”You go too far,” I told him. ”You have obliged me by doing this work. I cannot ask you to shun payment as well.”
Swan shook his head. ”You are not a man in a state of luxury to offer payment where none is required,” he said. ”When you put these difficulties behind you, perhaps then you might come see me and we will discuss a bill.”
”At least,” I proposed, ”allow me to reimburse you for the raw materials. I should hate to see you lose so much money on my behalf.”