Robert Barnard: Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 135, No. 2. Whole No. 822, February 2010

“Just as I say, a dhuine usail . He told me to remain. I think a messenger came to the house with a note. On the intelligence he received from this note, he told me that he was going to the Chancery buildings not far away and there was no reason for me to accompany him. I protested but a little. But he girth on his sword and dagger, laughed, and departed. I was unhappy. Master Hatton was a good man, albeit an Englishman, and I vowed to serve him well. I followed at a distance. Indeed, he went directly to the Chancery buildings. I believe them to be your courts of law?”

Master Drew nodded.

“In a small garden, among those buildings, I saw him encounter a young lady.”

“Can you describe her?”

“That I can and well, a dhuine usail ... I mean, Your Honour, for she had called at this very house the day we had arrived. I heard Sir Christopher greet her distantly and call her Lady Hatton.”

Master Drew stared for a moment at the man.

“Lady Hatton?” he echoed thoughtfully. “And you felt there was some animosity in the greeting from Sir Christopher?”

“’Twas like watching two skilled fencing artists exchange an opening clash of their blades. I heard her say she wished to be introduced to her new cousin, by which I think she meant my master. But Sir Christopher told her he was not within the house. God save him, but that was a lie, for he was within his room.”

“And this was the same lady that met with your master in the Chancery gardens?”

“It was, er... Your Honour. And that is the truth of it. I observed them for a while. They appeared in long discussion. But I misdoubt that it was a comfortable exchange of kinsfolk. There seemed some anger in the air. My master stood up and took his leave. Thinking that I could quickly catch him, I lingered to watch the lady, who walked to a shaded arch. I noticed there was a coach there, a coach and two horses. A man leant out and she spoke awhile to him and once pointed in the direction my master had taken.”

“Did you observe this man? What was he like and were there any distinguishing marks on the coach?”

“There was a shield on the coach. I think it was blue and white horizontal bars on it and some animals but, in truth, I would not be able to tell one of your English heraldic signs from another. I know the man in the coach had a tawny beard, reddish hair, and as he leant from the coach window it seem to me the gentleman was crooked of back, though it might have been the angle from which I was observing the encounter. The coach moved off and I quickly followed my master. Dia linn! I lost sight of him until he reached the very street wherein we were dwelling with Sir Christopher. Dusk was falling but I saw several things at once that demanded my attention.

“I saw the same coach disappearing down the street. I saw my master on the ground and two men were bending over him. One held my master’s sword, which he had obviously wrenched from him, for it was still in its scabbard. The other was...” Master Power paused and exclaimed — “A Dhia! One was tearing at his hand. He must have been taking the signet ring. I yelled, stupidly so, for I was some distance away and unable to close with the thieves. They looked up, saw me, and took to their heels. I thought it more important to get my poor master to the house and call for help rather than chase them.”

Master Drew spoke sharply.

“Can you describe them?”

“They had dark cloaks about them and hats that shaded their faces. One thing I observed — that they wore good boots.”

Master Drew raised an eyebrow.

“Good boots? Why would you observe that?”

“It occurred to me only later. I have seen some of the poor in the city. Many, like in my own sad country, go barefoot or cannot afford good quality leather to wear and resort to wooden shoes or the like. These had good boots.”

“So you brought Master Hatton inside. And then?”

“He was pronounced dead. It needed no physician to confirm it. Sir Christopher was in a great state of anguish, naturally so, it being his cousin. We placed him here. The other gentleman, Sir Edward, was with Sir Christopher at the time and there was some discussion. Then Sir Edward left and on his return he brought you here, a dhuine usail . These are the facts as I know them.”

Master Drew sighed and was troubled.

“Tell me, Master Power, do you have your means of support?”

Broder Power looked at him curiously.

“I have my health, a good blade, and a fair sword arm, a purse with scarce a guinea in it. I relied on the patronage and employment of my master.”

“Accept my advice, Master Broder Power, and return to your own country and do so immediately. Better still, go join your countrymen in France and Spain, for now Montjoy has defeated O’Neill, I do fear that things will not go well for your people in Ireland. Slip away from this house this minute while it is still dark and vanish as quickly as you can. It is better that you do not know the reasons why, but I urge you to do so if you value your life and liberty.”

Broder Power stared at Master Drew curiously and then he glanced to the corpse on the bed.

“Then my master was an important person? This was the assassination he feared?”

“You are an intelligent man, Master Power,” replied the constable. “At this time, in this place, an intelligent man knows when not to seek answers to such questions.”

“I will do as you say, a dhuine usail ... Your Honour.”

Master Drew left Broder Power and was conducted by the stony-faced Joseph down the stairs to the drawing room, where Sir Edward and Sir Christopher were waiting impatiently.

“You have been awhile, Constable,” greeted Sir Christopher in surly manner. “The hour grows late.”

“The constable has a reputation for thoroughness,” intervened Sir Edward in a conciliatory tone. “Is it not so? Have you come to some conclusions, Master Drew?”

Master Drew smiled thinly.

“Will you assuage my curiosity, Sir Edward?”

“Of course, of course. Sir Christopher, a glass of malmsey for the good constable.”

Master Drew declined the wine and said: “I do not seek to cause offence, but I was wondering about Lady Hatton, Sir Edward. I mean Lady Elizabeth Hatton, your wife.”

Sir Edward’s brow creased in a frown of annoyance

“My wife and I have led separate lives this past year or so.”

“I was merely curious, forgive me, but what was her family?”

“She was a Cecil, Master Drew. The daughter of Thomas Cecil, Lord Burghley. Why do you inquire?”

Master Drew sighed deeply, as if he had suspected the answer.

“Forgive me, as I say, it was but a passing curiosity on my part.”

“And so to your observations,” snapped Sir Christopher. “My cousin’s death must be officially pronounced before we can begin the burial procedures...”

Master Drew turned to him.

“I believe...” he began.

There was a thunderous knocking at the door that startled them all. They could hear servants scurrying to the door, voices raised, and then Joseph opened the doors, but before he could speak a small man came pushing into the room. Behind him were two men wearing the livery of the queen’s guards. Their weapons were not drawn, but they were well armed.

Sir Edward was the first to recover from his surprise.

“Sir Robert! What brings you abroad at this late hour?”

Sir Robert was a slight man, dwarfish in stature, with a humpback, reddish hair, a tawny beard, and large green eyes that had a hard quality to them. They swept the gathering with a coldness that did not match the grim smile on the man’s thin lips. Master Drew bowed stiffly, for it did not achieve anything to antagonise Sir Robert Cecil, Lord Chancellor and Secretary of State to Her Majesty.