“Friends, friends,” Ellershaw said, “let us come to order. This affair is not comic but, rather, cautionary. Mr. Forester is quite right that we have heard rumors of these new engines, and he was right to be vigilant. Can he be blamed because some unscrupulous scoundrels, no doubt out to make a profit from his ignorance, deceived him? Mr. Forester has reminded us to remain on our guard, and for that we must thank him.”
I was struck by how quickly Ellershaw had taken charge of this chaos. The room burst into cheers and applause, and Forester was, much to my astonishment, able to retreat with something like honor. I supposed he would be forced to resign from the Court, but at least he could walk out of the room with the illusion of dignity.
Once Forester was gone, Ellershaw returned to the podium once more. “I know that it is not my time to talk, but as I am up here already, may I say a few words?”
The man who had introduced Forester nodded vigorously. Ellershaw was now a hero. Had he asked for permission to light the room on fire, surely it would have been granted.
“Gentlemen, I spoke the truth when I said we must be vigilant against these new engines, but I may also have been guilty of praising myself. You see, I have been vigilant. The rumors are all too true. There are indeed plans for such an engine, not one capable of producing textiles identical to India cloth but a step in that direction. And I believed it was in this company’s best interest to suppress this machine, lest it lead to the refining of further engines that could, someday, challenge our markets. It is for that reason that I have gone to considerable lengths to obtain the only extant copy of the plans for this machine.” He then reached into his coat pocket and removed a small octavo volume.
Even from the distance at which I sat I knew there could be no doubt of it. It was the very volume I had delivered to Devout Hale that morning.
“Now, I know there has been some dissatisfaction with my performance here of late,” Ellershaw continued. “There are some voices who claim I could have done more to thwart the wool interest and prevent the imminent legislation, which will certainly prove a challenge to us in years ahead. I do not think it is true. I have never ceased to work for the repeal of that legislation, but there is only so much we can do, and the wool interest has a long and deep connection to the Parliament dating back to time immemorial. I have no doubt that we will regain our lost ground, but in the end there is much to do to expand the markets that remain open and to guard our rights and privileges fiercely. In having stopped this engine, I believe I have proved my worth.”
The crowd apparently agreed with him, for it exploded in cheers and huzzahs. Ellershaw basked in the glow, and at last, when the room was quiet once more, he prepared to conclude his business.
“I do not wish to suggest that I have done all this on my own. I have had a great deal of help, and I wish now to acknowledge those who have assisted me. Our Company has a new advocate, a man who has come over from the wool interest to pursue our cause in Parliament. I should like all of you to welcome into our circle Mr. Samuel Thurmond. He has long served the wool interest, but for the past session he has been covertly working for our company, and he has vowed to use all his influence to repeal the odious legislation.”
The old man rose and waved his hat for a moment, a cheerful grin upon his face. Here was not the dour man under Ellershaw’s threats, or the tentative schemer who met secretly with Forester. Here, I saw, was a clever man, into the final portion of his life, who wished to secure some comfort for himself and perhaps the son Ellershaw had mentioned. The scheme with the pretended textiles had been perpetrated against Forester with Thurmond’s aid. The threats against the old man, the confrontation in Sadler’s Wells had been staged, I now perceived, for my benefit and for Forester’s. Indeed, I understood at last that my very presence in Craven House had been for Forester’s benefit—to make him believe his schemes were threatened by an outside inquiry—so that he might focus his suspicions upon me rather than Thurmond. It was to make him feel that a scheme was afoot, and to spur him on to strike that he might fail and, in his failing, set the stage upon which Ellershaw might climb for his triumph.
The room was now a scene of glad mayhem, with Ellershaw shaking hands, and members of the Court slapping Thurmond on the back, welcoming him to their project as though he were a hero. It seemed to me a most curious thing, since he had obtained this status by betraying his longtime allies. What, I wondered, would prevent him from betraying the schemers of Craven House? Perhaps, I thought, it signified nothing. Ellershaw had made it clear, after all, that these were men who lived from one quarter to the next, one Court meeting to another. What mattered a future betrayal when measured against an immediate success?
I felt myself mightily disgusted by these displays, and I thought to tell Elias that I would endure no more of it, but when I looked up I observed Thurmond shaking hands with a most unexpected attendee. It was none other than Moses Franco.
A thousand thoughts passed through my mind as I attempted to understand why Franco would be here and why he would be upon such friendly terms with Thurmond and several other of the Company men. Then I observed that he excused himself and maneuvered his way toward the main entrance leading to the bulk of Craven House. He opened the main doors and quickly closed them behind himself, but not so quickly that I did not see that someone awaited him outside, and from the look of clothes and body language I guessed that person to be Celia Glade.
I EXCUSED MYSELF TO ELIAS, saying nothing more than that I would return, and then pushed my way through the crowd. As I did so, Ellershaw grabbed on to my shoulder and met my startled expression with a grin, far more secure and competent than any look I had previously seen upon his face.
“Think not, because I neglected to thank you publicly, that I consider your contribution any smaller than Mr. Thurmond’s,” he said.
I ignored this barb and pushed my way forward. At length, I separated myself from the room and studied the open space of the house. Luckily, I saw the pair I sought making their way down the hallway to a small closet I knew to have been recently vacated. They must have either expected no intrusion or minded none, for they did not close the door, and upon my arrival at the threshold, I observed Miss Glade handing Mr. Franco a purse.
“What betrayal is this?” I asked, my voice booming loud enough to startle them both.
“Mr. Weaver,” Franco said cheerily, though now entirely without the accent he had affected in my presence. “I am so glad to see you, now that this is all over. There are going to be some recriminations—I know it cannot be helped—but let me say now that I am in your debt, sir, and have nothing but esteem and honor for you.”
My expression must have presented to him some intelligence he did not desire, for he turned to Miss Glade. “He has already been informed of this particular, has he not?”
The lady blushed. “I’m afraid I have not yet had an opportunity to tell him.”
“You are a spy?” I boomed.
Miss Glade put a hand upon my arm. “Take not your anger out upon him. If you are to blame anyone, you may blame me.”
“And you may depend upon my doing so. How dare you make so free with my feelings and loyalties? Have you no idea of how I tormented myself with guilt over this man’s incarceration? And now I find he was a spy in your service?”