‘You think the Earl will listen to a brothel-keeper, do you?’
She had a point. ‘But it is not-’
‘You do not know James like I do,’ she snapped. ‘He loves money, and we have just deprived him of five thousand pounds. He will be livid — itching for revenge. And what better way, than to see us accused of the crimes he committed? I cannot believe I have been such a fool.’
Neither could Chaloner. ‘It could happen to anyone,’ he began lamely.
‘He used me to mislead you,’ she went on bitterly. ‘He encouraged me to think Brodrick stole the bust, in his capacity as Lord of Misrule. And then he urged me to share my so-called theory with you — to throw you off his own scent. He is a villain to the core! But do not stand there looking bewildered, Tom! Go! Take my horse.’
‘You have a horse?’
‘I did,’ said Temperance grimly, when she led the way across the yard and saw the stable door ajar. Footprints in the snow showed where someone had dashed in and a nag had galloped out. ‘You will have to run. Your life — and mine — depends on you reaching the Earl in time to refute James’s lies.’
Chaloner tried to do as she ordered, but he was exhausted, and every inch was a struggle. The blizzard had dwindled to the occasional flurry, but the temperature had plummeted, and there was a crust of ice on top of the snow. Every step involved crunching knee-deep into it, and hauling the other leg out behind him. It would have been gruelling exercise had he been fresh, but his energy reserves were almost entirely depleted, and his leg ached badly.
He laboured along The Strand with his breath coming in sharp bursts. He began to sweat from the effort, but did not dare stop to remove his coat, afraid he would never start again if he did. When he reached Charing Cross, he was tempted to give up, and hope the Earl would be prepared to listen to him regardless of what Turner had said in the interim. But there was Temperance to consider. The Earl was not going to champion a woman who ran a bordello, whether she was innocent or not.
The city was eerily quiet, sounds being muffled by the blanketing snow. He heard the clocks strike five, and was surprised it was so late; it felt earlier, because most of London still slept. He did not imagine the Earl would be at his offices at such an hour, so he stopped at Worcester House, hammering on the door with a ferocity that hurt his hands. But the servant who answered it told him the Earl was not there — he had already gone to White Hall. Chaloner had miscalculated, and had lost valuable moments doing so.
He reached the palace after what seemed liked an age, and stumbled through the gate. He was able to put on a spurt of speed once he was inside, but knew it was too little, too late — when he arrived and placed his ear against the office door, he could hear Turner speaking. The monologue was occasionally punctuated by the Earl, and once by Haddon. Chaloner rested his forehead against the wall in weary despair. The colonel had already spun his tale, and he was elegant, plausible and charming. Temperance was right: the Earl would never believe Chaloner over his new darling.
So what should he do now? Slip away before he was arrested? But then what would happen to Temperance? He took a deep breath, and tried to hear what was being said.
‘… Greene in the Painted Chamber,’ Turner was declaring.
‘Is he?’ asked the Earl. ‘Then why have you not arrested him?’
‘I would have done, sir,’ said Turner patiently. ‘But, as I just told you, I have only just escaped from Chaloner and his friend the brothel-keeper. They locked me in their cellar all night, and I am lucky to escape with my life. It was they who stopped me from apprehending Greene.’
‘I do not believe you,’ said Haddon indignantly. ‘Thomas would never do such terrible things. You are just trying to have him dismissed, so you can be appointed in his place.’
‘Dismissed?’ echoed Turner. ‘I want him thrown into your deepest dungeon! He stole from the King, not to mention battering poor Tryan to within an inch of his life. And he told me he felt sorry for Greene, because he is a fellow criminal. A man like that cannot be allowed his freedom.’
‘Put up your weapon, colonel,’ ordered the Earl. ‘I do not feel safe with you waving it about.’
Chaloner reached for his own sword, not liking the notion of Turner being in the Earl’s company with a naked blade, only to realise he did not have one. The only remotely sharp implement to hand was Bulteel’s paper-knife. He grabbed it, and had just put his ear to the door again when there was a shriek.
‘Stop!’ cried the Earl. ‘I command you to disarm!’
‘You do not believe me,’ hissed Turner. ‘You think I am lying.’
‘We can talk about this like civilised men,’ came Haddon’s unsteady voice. ‘But putting your sword at the Lord Chancellor’s throat is not the best way to make your case.’
Chaloner had heard enough. He threw open the door and burst in, paper-knife at the ready.
‘Thomas!’ shouted the Earl in relief. Turner jerked around when the spy entered, enabling the Earl to scamper away from him. ‘Thank God! Turner has taken leave of his senses, and means to kill us.’
‘Well, why not?’ demanded Turner. His voice was cold and dangerous. ‘I have spent all night locked in a filthy basement on your behalf, and now you say you do not believe me! How can you take his side over mine? He is a killer, trained by Spymaster Thurloe, no less — and he refused to accept that you were right about Greene. He defied you.’
‘All that is true,’ said the Earl. ‘But you also said he was a thief, and that I will never believe.’
‘Why not?’ demanded Turner. ‘Go to Hercules’ Pillars Alley and see for yourself. He is-’
‘Because he has had plenty of chances to steal in the past, and he never has,’ replied the Earl. ‘His honesty is beyond question. You, on the other hand, know a suspicious amount about these crimes.’
‘Because I solved them!’ yelled Turner in exasperation. ‘You stupid, ignorant old fool! Why could you not have listened to me? We might have enjoyed a profitable partnership.’
‘Partnership?’ echoed the Earl in disbelief. ‘How dare you presume! Well, what are you waiting for, Thomas? I have had enough of this ridiculous situation. Take him into custody immediately.’
Chaloner glanced at his paper-knife, wondering how he was expected to arrest the sword-toting Turner when he was basically unarmed. But the Earl pulled the kind of face that indicated this was an irrelevancy, and that Chaloner should get on with it and stop making excuses.
‘Catch!’ shouted Haddon, tossing his ornamental dress-sword towards the spy.
Unfortunately, Chaloner could not move quickly enough, and Turner reached it first. He kicked it under a chest, then launched a fierce and determined attack, apparently knowing that to lose this time meant certain death. The spy scrambled behind the desk, and lobbed the paper-knife. Had it been a dagger, it would have killed Turner instantly, but it was too blunt to penetrate and only bounced uselessly to the floor. Outraged, Turner lunged across the table towards him, forcing him to retreat faster than his leg appreciated. Meanwhile, the Earl’s expression went from vengeful confidence to alarm when he realised his champion was not as invincible as he had thought.
Chaloner knew he was going to be skewered unless he thought of something fast. He glanced around quickly, then pretended to catch his foot in one of the Turkish rugs. The Earl gave a cry of dismay when he went sprawling. Grinning malevolently, Turner moved in for the kill. Chaloner waited for him to close, then kicked out hard, driving him backwards. There was a resounding clang as the colonel’s head connected with the precariously placed chandelier. He crashed to the floor and lay still. Climbing quickly to his feet, Chaloner ripped a sash from one of the curtains and tied Turner’s hands before he could regain his senses and create any more mischief.