“Stolen? What do you mean?”
I had held on to this little bit of knowledge, but now seemed a good time to use it. Save something too long, and it becomes worthless. If, despite all that had happened to him, Saunders was still to attempt to thwart Duer tomorrow, I would need to use everything I could muster. “Before the ratification of the Constitution, Duer served as director on what was then called the Board of Treasury. It was a powerful position and he was a trusted man, yet he abused that trust. He procured for himself $236,000, which he has never returned.”
Saunders said nothing for a moment. “You have proof?”
“It can be proved,” I said, “though I can offer you no documentary evidence. I doubt not that Hamilton could prove it, had he the will, but of course he is Duer’s lapdog.”
I knew that Saunders disagreed and my accusation irritated him, but he was careful not to let himself be distracted. “Why did Dalton-and I presume you-wish to keep me from searching for Pearson?”
“Because of Mrs. Pearson,” I answered. “Duer’s men were threatening her to keep her quiet. Duer wanted Pearson’s money invested in his schemes, and he feared that if Pearson was apprehended by Treasury men, he would be forced to repay his loan rather than lose more money in Duer’s projects. I could not risk harm to Mrs. Pearson.” These were more lies, but I could not tell him the truth: that we had all along manipulated him, hooked him like a fish and pulled him where we liked.
“Many ladies care for their friends,” he said, “but few employ giant Irishmen and secret sharpshooters to aid them in their efforts.”
“Then they have never lived on the border,” I answered. I don’t know that my answer satisfied him, but it silenced him long enough that I was made to explain no more before arriving at Fraunces Tavern.
“You are a mysterious woman, Mrs. Maycott,” he said. “I am not a fool, and I know you will not tell me what you wish to keep secret, but I must beg you to be more open with me. You say you are my friend and we stand together, yet you tell me little or nothing. You have saved me from, at the least, an unpleasant day or two in that cold cage, and quite possibly from an even more terrible fate. I am grateful, as you must know. But I am not content.”
“The time has not come for you to know more,” I said. “But soon.”
And so he departed. If he recollected that I had promised to tell him everything in the carriage, he did not hold me to it. I believe I understood him well enough to know he did recall and chose not to attempt to hold me to a promise he knew I would never keep.
Ethan Saunders
It was now half past nine. I had lost several hours, but no more than that. My plans to thwart Duer were as solid as ever, and my hatred of Pearson equally strong. What could he do to me that would make me despise him more than I did for what he’d done to his own wife? As for Mrs. Maycott, her actions tonight, her association with the whiskey Irishman, only confirmed that she was a more significant actor in these affairs than she would admit, but for the moment, at least, she appeared to be an actor who favored my success and Cynthia’s safety.
There was but one person in New York who could now answer my questions, so after cleaning myself and concealing the bulk of my injuries, I went to the home of Senator Aaron Burr, where his girl directed me to a local coffeehouse, and there I found him, holding court for a large group of political clients-or perhaps men to whom he was a client. I hardly knew, but I was quite gratified to see him gesture to me to take a seat and indicate that he would be with me when he could.
Soon Burr rose and came over to my table. There were still men where he’d sat, but they seemed to have enough to say that they did not require his presence at the moment.
“How may I help you, Captain?”
“It is rather important, I’m afraid, and I must keep it between the two of us. I had hoped you might be able to tell me more about Joan Maycott.”
“I know little of her myself,” he said. “She appeared upon the scene less than a year ago. She is a fashionable lady, a wealthy woman, and a widow. She and her husband traded his soldier’s debt for land out west, where he made something of a success as a whiskey distiller, but after he died she returned to the East. If pressed, she will speak against Hamilton’s whiskey tax on this account.” He shrugged to indicate he had no more to add.
“When did she move to the West?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “She mentioned to me once having lived in New York with her husband during the ratification of the Constitution, so it could not have been so long ago.”
I thought about this for a moment. “How did her husband die?”
“She has never chosen to speak of it, and a man is never inclined to inquire too deeply of a dead husband to a pretty widow. There is no shortage of opportunities for a man out west to meet his death, and yet…” His voice trailed off.
“You have the impression that there is some bitterness there,” I proposed. “That she believes there was an injustice.”
His eyes brightened. “That is exactly right.” He looked over his shoulder.
“I see you must return,” I said. “Thank you for your time.”
He wrinkled his brow. “But I have told you nothing.”
I shrugged, and that seemed to be enough for him. We rose and shook hands. He pretended not to see how badly cut and scraped was my hand and went back to his men. As he did so, I thought about how interesting he was. He could not be ignorant of my reputation, of the things said about my past, and yet he chose to attend to me in public. He could not help but notice that hardly a day went by that I did not have some injury. It seemed to me that Burr was a man like myself, one who enjoyed courting a little bit of scandal, so long as it was only a little bit. I hoped this tendency would not lead him into any great difficulties.
In the meantime, though he thought he had told me little, he had in reality explained a great deal. Mrs. Maycott and her husband would not have traded war debt for land had they not been needy, and yet she returned from the West, after only a few years, a wealthy woman. I did not think any amount of success as a whiskey distiller could have produced significant money in so short a span. Either she and her husband had, in that time, inherited a fortune or there was far more to her past than she was making public. One thing seemed certain: Something terrible had happened to her husband out west, and if he had traded his debt for land, it seemed to me likely he had traded, directly or indirectly, with the largest and most energetic architect of these exchanges: William Duer.
I had hired a horse in advance, so I had little to do but pass the time. I dared not sleep, lest I fail to awake in time. I therefore waited impatiently until, when the clock struck one and the rest of the world was abed, I rode out to Greenwich Village and Duer’s estate, where I did some naughty things to make that speculator’s life uncomfortable, and did them without being seen or heard. I returned late, nearly four in the morning. There was no point in attempting more sleep. I would have to begin in an hour or two at the most, so I sat in my room, drank a bottle of port, and rehearsed over and over again what I must do.
Perhaps I fell asleep for a quarter hour or so, but when I heard the watchman call out four of the clock, I roused myself, splashed my face with cold water, and set out to make my mark upon William Duer.
The plan was simple. I would visit Duer’s agents one by one, and then visit Corre’s Hotel, usually a venue for music and now the place where the Million Bank was due to launch. Perhaps I would see Duer there, perhaps not. I did not know which I hoped for. If Duer did not show, perhaps Pearson would not show either. If Pearson did appear, he would see Duer’s plan already in disarray and would refrain from investing. All of which, of course, depended upon my doing what yet needed doing.