‘Do not confuse me with the rough villains with whom you usually consort,’ he said coldly, while Chaloner thought he would never insult a rough villain by mistaking him for Williamson. ‘Have you done as I ordered, and located Swaddell?’
‘He was at John’s Coffee House last week, in disguise and infiltrating one of the meetings you told me about. I suggested he make contact with you, although it looks as though he has not bothered.’
Williamson stepped back, startled. ‘He is alive? I was certain you had murdered him.’
‘Why would I do that? I barely know him.’
Williamson sneered. ‘Because you think it will damage me, and we are not exactly friends. Incidentally, I hear Turner has proved Greene is the clerk-killer. What will you do now? Your Earl will not keep you on his payroll when Turner is your superior in every way.’
‘Not every way,’ said Chaloner, recalling the colonel’s pitiful performance when threatened with the Lord of Misrule and his mob. ‘Have you found the King’s statue yet?’
‘No, but I will provide him with what he wants, even if it means sending to Bernini for a replacement. How much do you think it will cost?’
‘The last one was exchanged for a diamond ring worth a thousand pounds. But I understand Bernini prefers rubies. Do you happen to have one?’
Williamson regarded him oddly. ‘I shall rummage in my jewellery box, and see what I can find.’
Chaloner was still pondering what he might have meant by the enigmatic reply — if anything — when he met Turner, swaggering along King Street as if he owned it. Women called greetings to him as they passed, and he acknowledged every one of them by name. The lowest street-trader was treated to the same merry charm as the highest duchess, and Chaloner realised that Turner was just a man who adored women. Age, shape and economic status was immaterial to him, and only the toothless could expect to be shunned.
Turner grinned as he approached the spy, brandishing something provocatively. It was a locket. ‘You owe me ten shillings! You said I could not persuade Belle to part with it, yet here it is.’
‘You also said I was free to ask her whether she had handed it to you willingly.’
Turner looked hurt. ‘You think I would try to cheat you?’
Chaloner smiled. ‘I am sure of it.’
Turner laughed. ‘Belle will tell you the truth. Give me the ten shillings — unless you think me such a liar that you do not trust my word?’
Chaloner supposed Turner was unlikely to fabricate tales knowing they were likely to be verified. He handed over the coins. ‘I hear you have gathered enough evidence to arrest Greene.’
Turner’s jovial expression faded, and he began to count facts on his fingers. ‘He begged brandywine on the nights Chetwynd and Vine were murdered. He was actually found with one victim, and I am unconvinced by his tale of borrowing ink. He had a secret life in that he was an errand-boy for Lady Castlemaine — and God alone knows what she asked him to do. And if all that is not enough, I have learned that he argued with Matthias Lea, just hours before the fellow was found dead.’
‘He was seen? By whom?’
‘By His Portliness. Bulteel was with him, so it is not a figment of the old goat’s imagination.’
‘Do you think Greene killed Matthias?’
‘Matthias was not poisoned, as far as I know, but perhaps the river was to hand, so Greene just pushed him in. However, I am still uncomfortable with the whole business — I do not like the notion that my evidence will send a man to the gallows, whether he is guilty or not. It sounds womanish, but there is something about hanging that turns my stomach. You probably do not understand.’
Chaloner understood only too well, because he felt the same way about prisons, and did not know what he would do if his spying ever saw him incarcerated again. ‘I thought Greene was dead — that the drowned clerk was him, not Matthias. He has been missing for the right amount of time.’
‘Of course he has,’ said Turner bitterly. ‘He killed Matthias, then decided he had better flee before the Earl decided he has stayed his hand long enough. Perhaps we should have put him behind bars when His Portliness first suggested it. Then Vine, Langston and Matthias would still be alive.’
Chaloner was finally beginning to accept that he might be right.
The atmosphere was strained when Chaloner arrived at the Earl’s offices. Bulteel was working in his antechamber, and had pinned a notice on his door saying dogs were not welcome. Haddon was sitting in the hallway, writing out a list of guests for the Earl’s next soirée. There was no sign of his pets, and although Chaloner did not ask, he was told they were at home, recovering. Haddon shot a reproachful glare in the secretary’s direction as he spoke, which Bulteel pointedly ignored. Before he could be drawn into the spat, Chaloner knocked on the Earl’s door and entered his domain.
‘I saw Greene bickering viciously with Matthias just hours before his body was found in the river,’ said the Earl when he saw his spy. ‘And now Greene is nowhere to be found. Of course, you and Turner have discovered some very nasty truths about his victims — they were not the good men they would have us believe.’
Chaloner nodded. ‘Chetwynd, Vine and Langston were not the only ones with dubious secrets, either — the Lea brothers probably acted as scribes, producing copies of Langston’s indecent plays.’
‘Really?’ The Earl’s voice dripped disapproval. ‘I did not know that. My objection to Matthias lies in another direction. He said he was loyal to the new government when we reappointed him at the Restoration, and swore all manner of oaths to “prove” it. But he was a liar.’
‘You mean he was a traitor, plotting rebellion?’ It did not seem very likely — treachery took hard work and sacrifice, and the Leas were far too selfish for either.
‘Williamson has learned that they accepted large sums of money to write seditious pamphlets. I am sure they do not applaud the sentiments themselves — they are too worldly to hold with anything that might be construed as principle — but they accepted money for their literary talents. Such as they are. Still, at least Matthias did not pretend to be saintly, like the other three.’
‘There is a witness who believes Greene stole brandy-wine on the night Matthias died,’ said Chaloner tiredly. ‘Just as he did on the nights Chetwynd, Vine and Langston were poisoned. You were right all along.’
‘And yet I still detect a note of hesitation,’ said the Earl curiously. ‘Why? Is it because you cannot believe you might have made a mistake? I had not taken you for that sort of fellow. You are stubborn, but I did not think you were a sulker.’
The truth was that Chaloner could not rid himself of the nagging notion that someone was framing Greene. But trying to explain his concerns would be a waste of time, so he handed the Earl the ring he had found. His master had a good eye for jewellery, and might well have noticed Greene — or someone else — wearing it. ‘Have you seen this before?’
‘No, but it is a woman’s ring — it would be too small for a man. Why? Is it something to do with the murders? Or a clue in the mystery of the missing statue?’
‘I am not sure.’ Chaloner passed him the documents. ‘I also found these hidden in Greene’s house. They mean nothing to me, but you may understand their significance.’
The Earl’s eyebrows shot up when he saw the damage they had suffered during the encounter with the train-band: Payne’s sword had punched a hole almost all the way through them. ‘I shall not ask what you did to acquire these — what I do not know cannot plague my conscience. I will review them later, after I have seen the King about this visit of the French ambassador. What will you do now?’
‘Try to find Greene.’
‘You will be wasting your time: he will be in Holland by now. So, you had better concentrate on locating the statue, because I meant what I said — you only have until tomorrow to prove yourself.’