‘It’s even worse knowing that I was taken in by such a man. I’d willingly draw and quarter him myself,’ said Charles when he and Thomas were alone. He, too, was exploding with anger.
‘If you do,’ replied Thomas, ‘kindly wait until he has told us who Aurum is.’
‘Who do you think he is?’
‘If there are traitors in the Post Office, one of them is likely to be in a senior position. That means Bishop, Squire or Morland. Morland is by far the most likely of the three. He was a fierce supporter of Cromwell, is permanently short of money and has the brains for it.’
‘Why does Joseph not arrest him?’
‘Lack of evidence. Morland is well connected. Remember that he was the man sent to Breda to meet the king. If his guilt were not proved, it could go badly for Joseph.’
Charles grunted. ‘It’s as well for all of them that Madeleine is recovering. If she hadn’t, I’d have taken my swords and saved the hangman the cost of three ropes.’
‘Stoner did know Babb. Matthew Smith, John Winter and Henry Copestick too, I shouldn’t be surprised.’
‘A fraudster, a traitor and a murderer. I should have listened to Mary. She never trusted him.’
‘You will have to tell her.’
‘I know. Thank God for Madeleine. Mary would never have forgiven me.’
The door opened and Mary came in. ‘Mary would never have forgiven you for what?’
Thomas stood up and made for the door. ‘I shall look in on Madeleine again. Then I believe that I shall go for a walk in St James’s Park. No doubt we shall have heard from Joseph by this evening.’
He was out of the house and on his way to the park within seconds.
CHAPTER 20
ANIMALS IN CAGES reminded Thomas of his own imprisonments in Oxford Castle and on the island of Barbados, so the king’s menagerie, even his giraffe, did not hold his interest for long. He soon left the park and wandered off in the direction of Westminster Abbey.
Unlike on his last visit to the Abbey, there was no scaffolding and there were no crowds. Thomas walked slowly around the building, wondering at the skill and faith of the men who had given their lives to creating and improving it over the centuries. It had been fortunate to escape destruction when King Henry had been plundering monasteries all over the country. Perhaps the thought of all his predecessors buried there had stayed the royal hand. Oliver Cromwell had enjoyed only a brief rest in the Abbey. He had been buried in great ceremony, only to be disinterred less than three years later, tried and hanged – an act of astonishing stupidity and barbarity.
Kings and queens had been crowned there for six hundred years. How many more would follow King Charles II? Would any more suffer the fate of his father? Would England ever again be without a monarch? Would the country ever again plunge itself into the anguish and bloodshed of a civil war?
Thomas shuddered at the thought. Never mind all that, Thomas Hill, you have more immediate matters to deal with and there are questions to be answered. Is Stoner Argentum? Who is Aurum? Was it he who alerted the enemy to the interception of the letter, or had they noticed that its seal had been broken and repaired? Who ordered the Dutchman to murder Babb, Winter, Smith and Copestick? Who is the Alchemist? And what exactly are the Dutch and French planning? More important still, what are you going to do about Madeleine Stewart?
Thomas strolled twice around the Abbey before walking back to Piccadilly. The sitting room was deserted and the house quiet. Thomas smiled. If he knew Charles, by now Mary knew about Stoner and was being consoled in their bedroom. He looked in on Madeleine, who was asleep, and went to his own room.
After an hour reading, Thomas’s eyes closed, and he was asleep in his chair when Smythe knocked on his door and called through it, ‘Mr Hill, Josiah Mottershead and Agnes Cakebread are here to see Miss Stewart. Should I show them up?’
Thomas roused himself and opened the door. ‘I will come down, John,’ he said, rubbing his eyes. ‘Where are Mr and Mrs Carrington?’
‘They are in their bedroom, sir. I did not like to disturb them.’
‘Very wise.’
Josiah and Agnes were in the sitting room, looking uncomfortable. Agnes was wearing a green bonnet and a thin shawl over her working dress. She held in her hand a wooden box tied with pink ribbon. Josiah hopped from foot to foot and rubbed his hands together nervously. He had placed his stick by the door. ‘Good afternoon, Mr ’Ill,’ he said. ‘We wondered ’ow Miss Stewart is and Agnes ’as baked ’er a fruit cake. It’s ’er favourite.’
Thomas spoke gently. ‘Miss Stewart is very weak, but the worst is over. Agnes’s fruit cake is just what she needs. How are you, Josiah? Recovered?’
‘Thank you, sir, quite recovered. Takes more than a poke in the back to do for Mottershead.’
‘Good. Why don’t we take the cake up to her?’
Madeleine was awake and sitting up. ‘How kind of you both to come. I am feeling much better, and if that is a fruit cake in your hand, Agnes, I shall be better still.’
‘It is, Miss Stewart,’ said Agnes with something very like a curtsy. ‘Mottershead told me to bring it.’
‘Thank you, Josiah. And thank you also for rescuing me and getting me out of those terrible marshes.’
‘It was no trouble, miss, and Mr Carrington and Mr ’Ill did most of the rescuing.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Madeleine, reaching out to put her hand on Josiah’s arm, ‘Thomas has told me exactly what happened. Thank you, Josiah.’
How anyone with a face the colour of Josiah’s could blush, Thomas did not know, but blush he did. Thomas almost felt sorry for him. ‘Shall we leave Agnes and Miss Stewart to gossip, Josiah? Let us go down to the sitting room.’
The moment they were alone, Thomas asked if Stoner had been arrested. ‘Afraid not, sir. When we went to ’is ’ouse, ’e ’ad gone,’ replied Josiah.
‘Hell and damnation. He must have taken fright when he learned that we had found Miss Stewart.’
‘Bloody Dutchman. Should never ’ave let him escape.’
‘Too late now, Josiah. Did you search Stoner’s house?’
‘We did, sir. Top to bottom. Not a sign of where ’e’s gone.’
‘What is Mr Williamson going to do?’
‘I’m to find the man, sir. And if the thieving traitor’s in London, find ’im I shall. Got everyone I can think of looking for ’im.’
Thomas did not doubt it. But Stoner might very well not be in London. He might not be in England. He might have taken a boat across the Channel and be counting his money in comfort in Amsterdam or Paris. The devil’s balls. Why had he not seen through Stoner long ago? The man was too glib and too plausible. Now he might have escaped.
When Agnes came down, Thomas showed them out. At the door he said quietly, ‘If anyone can find him, Josiah, you can. Please keep me informed.’
Thomas spent the next two days with Madeleine or walking the streets of the city. He imagined himself finding Stoner lurking in an alley, overpowering him and dragging him off to Newgate. A delicious idea, an absurd thought. Yet if justice was to be done, Stoner would have to be found. He had swindled Charles and Mary and probably been involved in four murders and Madeleine’s abduction. The man must hang. Thomas replayed his conversations with him, hoping to remember something that might help – a place, a name, an idle remark. There was nothing.
Madeleine’s recovery, meanwhile, continued well and on the third day she left her bed and came down to join them in the sitting room. There had still been no word from Josiah. Since learning from Thomas that Stoner had disappeared, Charles had worked himself up into a rare stew. He paced the room, cursing the man for his treachery and deceit and cursing himself for his foolishness.
‘For the love of God, sit down, Charles,’ said Mary. ‘Acting like a cuckolded husband won’t do anyone any good.’ Reluctantly, Charles sat. ‘Now, Thomas, what are your plans?’
‘I had intended to return to Romsey when Madeleine was out of dang
er, but now I feel I must stay until Stoner is caught and all the spies exposed. If I go home now, I shall find myself pacing about like Charles.’ He stole a look at Madeleine. Her face told him nothing.
‘If that is what you want, Thomas, of course you shall stay here as long as you wish. And Madeleine will stay until she is fully recovered, won’t you, my dear?’
‘Thank you, Mary, although I’m sure I shall be ready to go home very soon. I shall have Agnes to look after me.’
There was a knock on the door and in came Smythe. ‘Mr Mottershead is here, sir.’
Charles jumped to his feet. ‘Show him in at once.’
Josiah came in, hat in one hand, stick in the other. Thomas had never seen him without his stick and wondered if he slept with it. Charles had no time for pleasantries. ‘What news, Josiah? Have you got him?’
Josiah shook his head. ‘Not yet, sir. We’re still searching. I just came to see ’ow Miss Stewart is.’
‘As you can see, Josiah, I am much improved,’ said Madeleine. ‘And how is Agnes?’
‘I’ve been too busy to call, madam. Out all day and all night. She knows where to find me, though, if she needs me.’
‘Has there been no trace of Stoner at all?’ asked Thomas.
‘None, sir. I’m afraid ’e’s gone.’
‘I won’t have it,’ thundered Charles. ‘The man must be found and hanged.’
‘What do you suggest, Charles?’ asked Mary.
‘I suggest that Josiah takes Thomas and me to his house and that we conduct our own search. I’ll wager there’s a clue there somewhere.’
Josiah looked doubtful. ‘Mr Williamson did make us lift every chest and open every drawer.’
‘Then we’ll do so again, won’t we, Thomas?’
It would be better than pacing the streets. ‘It’s worth a try. Come on, Josiah, no time like the present.’
‘Very well, gentlemen, if that’s what you want I’ll take you there. Just don’t expect to find anything.’
Chandle Stoner’s house was one of the grandest in Cheapside – two storeys high, with glazed and shuttered windows, newly painted walls and beams, and a large oak door. It was the house of a prosperous man.
Josiah produced from his pocket a set of instruments like long nails, tied together with a thin strip of cloth. He chose a nail, inserted it into the lock and twisted gently until they heard the click of the lock opening. He turned the handle and opened the door, taking care to make almost no sound at all. ‘Do you think he’s done this before?’ whispered Charles, with a grin. Picking up his stick, Josiah led them into the house.
When Thomas opened the shutters to let in light, they saw richly embroidered wall hangings and cushions, a fine oak writing table, leather-bound books on the shelves, paintings on the walls, coloured glass bottles and glasses, pewter jugs and tankards and a quantity of plate. There were valuable items in every room – a Flemish tapestry in one bedroom, silk covers from India in another, and a lace tablecloth in the dining room. In the kitchen were dozens of bottles of French and Spanish wine, sacks of flour and sugar and a huge side of beef hanging on a meat hook. Chandle Stoner did not believe in stinting himself or in hiding his wealth. There was no sign of a search having taken place.
‘Are you sure the house has been searched, Josiah?’ asked Charles.
‘Yes, sir. Mr Williamson ordered us to leave it as we found it.’
‘Perhaps he thought Stoner might return and did not want to alert him.’
Just as Joseph’s men had done, they opened every drawer and looked in every cupboard. They found silk stockings and linen shirts, rows of boots and shoes and a closet full of coats and hats. They even took every book off its shelf and searched it for hidden papers. There were none.
‘There are no documents here,’ said Thomas. ‘No letters, no papers, not even a bill of sale from his tailor.’
‘He must have taken anything incriminating with him, or burned it,’ said Charles. ‘Let’s look in the grates.’
The grates in the sitting room and dining room had been cleaned out, but the fireplace in the kitchen was full of ashes. Charles brushed them aside with his boot. Among the ashes were a few scraps of paper. He picked one up. It was the corner of a document, singed but reasonably intact. There was nothing written on it, so he picked up another. Thomas did the same and soon they had a small pile of scraps without a word on them. ‘We didn’t think to look at the ashes,’ said Josiah, a little guiltily.
‘If he did take anything, why burn all this?’ asked Thomas. ‘Keep looking. There may be something.’ While Josiah looked again in every possible hiding place, they carried on sifting the ash, taking care not to damage the small pieces they picked up and added to the pile. ‘I never have understood the saying about a needle in a haystack,’ Thomas said. ‘What would a needle be doing in a haystack and why would anyone look for one there? Looking for a fragment in the ashes would be more appropriate.’
Charles held up a small triangle of paper. ‘Eureka, if that’s the right expression. A fragment in the ashes it is.’ He placed it on the floor and together they peered at it. Thomas made out the letters one. One what? He looked again. The letters were part of a word, not a whole one. None? Stoner? Money? There was no way of telling. He picked up another scrap. On this one the words land and is were just legible.
‘Could be anything,’ observed Charles. ‘Land is cheap, Scotland is full of Scots, anything.’
‘Quite,’ replied Thomas, carefully picking another scrap from the ash. ‘Here’s another bit in the same hand. I think the word is rust. No, trust. I can just see the tail of the t.’
‘Land, is and trust. Not much to go on.’
He found another, larger piece. ‘Here’s one. I can make out th and Palace. Has Stoner any connection with Lambeth Palace?’
‘Not as far as I know.’
Thomas held up another. ‘This is part of the same letter. The paper is thick and hasn’t completely burned. I can make out the word meet. Meeting someone at Lambeth Palace, do you suppose?’
‘Not the place I’d choose to meet an honest man.’
When there was nothing but ash left, they had bits of two documents. One suggested that Stoner might know a man who lived in or near Lambeth Palace, the other nothing at all. ‘Let me see the first piece again,’ said Thomas. He peered at it so closely that his nose was almost touching the paper. ‘Look at that, Charles. Can you make out a letter before the l of land?’ He handed the scrap to Charles.
‘Possibly. It could be a c or an r.’
‘I think it’s an r. rland. Morland?’
‘Or Netherland?’
‘Not followed by is.’ He paused and looked around the kitchen. ‘We’re not going to find anything else. We’ll take these four pieces to Joseph and see what he thinks.’
‘I’ll fetch a book to put them in. Wouldn’t want to lose them.’ With the fragments safely in a prayer book, and the prayer book safely in Thomas’s pocket, they left by the back door and went straight to Joseph’s house in Chancery Lane.
Joseph was at home. ‘We found these at Stoner’s house,’ said Thomas. He opened the prayer book and showed him the scraps of paper.
‘I take it there is something written on them.’ Joseph sounded sceptical.
‘There is. Two documents, one with the words meet and th Palace, the other with rland is and trust.’
‘And what are we to make of these fragments?’
‘th Palace might be Lambeth Palace. If so, Stoner might have met someone there.’
‘In the Palace?’
‘Unlikely. Probably nearby.’
‘It sounds a trifle far-fetched, Thomas.’
‘I know, Joseph, but it’s all we have.’
‘What about the second piece?’
‘You may think this even more far-fetched. rland might be Morland, and trust could simply be trust, or trustworthy, or trusted.’
‘Or mistrust.’
‘Indeed. But, again,
it’s all we have.’
Having inspected the fragments for himself, Williamson sat down with his chin on his hand. For some time he said nothing. Then he looked up and said, ‘I am more persuaded by Stoner’s absence and the lack of documents than by these fragments. I shall arrange another search of the house in the hope of discovering more evidence. Meanwhile, Mottershead will go to Lambeth to conduct his usual enquiries. Quietly, mind, Mottershead. If our quarry is there we don’t want to frighten him away. Have you any friends on that side of the river?’
‘I ’ave, sir. There’s one or two who know me there.’
‘Good. Off you go and report back to me the moment you hear anything.’
‘Right, sir,’ replied Josiah, looking relieved. ‘Good day, gentlemen.’
‘What about Morland?’ asked Charles, when Josiah had gone.
Joseph pointed at the fragments on the table. ‘These mean nothing. We still have no evidence that Morland is a spy, despite his manners and his background. He was not the only man to espouse the cause of Parliament when it was prudent to do so and his rudeness does not make him a traitor. I dare not detain Morland without good reason, but I shall have him watched.’
‘In that case, Joseph, Charles and I will return home and leave the matter in your hands.’
Mary and Madeleine were still sitting together when they arrived home. Charles told them about Lambeth and Morland. ‘It’s hardly proof,’ said Mary. ‘Is there nothing more?’
‘It’s more than we had before,’ replied Charles sharply, ‘and it might lead us to Stoner.’
‘Mottershead will make enquiries,’ added Thomas, ‘while Morland is being watched.’
‘So again we must wait on Josiah,’ said Madeleine. ‘Let us hope he does not need your assistance a second time. Tomorrow I should like to be taken out. If one of you is available, that is.’
Thomas grinned at her. ‘You know how unreliable Charles is. I shall escort you.’
The hired carriage that called for Thomas and Madeleine the next morning took them past More Fields towards Hampstead Heath. Wonderful views of the city and air free of coal smoke and evil vapours had made Hampstead Hill a popular destination. One would not venture there at night, but on a lovely summer morning it was glorious. They took with them a pique-nique prepared by Mary’s cook and a bottle of Charles’s wine. Under an oak newly come into leaf, from where they could see the Tower of London and beyond, they set out their pique-nique on a linen cloth the size of a large dining table, with a cushion for each of them to sit upon.
The King's Return: (Thomas Hill 3) (Thomas Hill Novels) Page 21