Philip Kerr - Dark Matter

“And when was that?”

Before answering, Gilbert spat again so that I had the apprehension that he spat to loosen up his cogitations.

“Five o’clock, sir,” he said.

“And yet you were not walking your beat on this wall at all times since then,” said Newton. “Did Sergeant Rohan and Major Mornay not stand here for a while, also?”

Gilbert frowned that Newton should know this. “Sergeant Rohan relieved me for half an hour, sir. That’s true. But I didn’t see no officer.”

“But why did Sergeant Rohan relieve you at all? It is not common, surely, for a sergeant to relieve an ordinary soldier?”

“True, sir. I cannot say why he did that. And yet I was mighty grateful, for it is that cold, sir. At the time I did think this might be the reason, sir. And Rohan is a good sort for a Frenchie.”

“Sergeant Rohan is a Huguenot?”

“Yes sir.”

“Do you say so?” Newton walked along the wall some way, leaving me with Gilbert.

“Who got murdered, then?” he asked me.

“Daniel Mercer,” I replied.

“No,” said Gilbert. “Danny Mercer? He wasn’t a bad cove, for a Minter. But murdered, you say?”

“It may be so,” I said, for I could see no purpose in alarming the fellow, and in truth I was watching my master more closely than I was listening to Mark Gilbert. Newton had walked along the rampart as far east as the Brass Mount, and back again, pausing only to pick up something from the wall beneath his feet.

“Come,” he said, brushing past me on his way back to the stairs. “Quickly. We are in haste. Thank you, Mister Gilbert.”

Then we repaired to the Byward Tower, which was the entrance to the Tower, where Newton questioned the porter, who confirmed that, provided a man was not carrying a sword or a pistol, no searches were made of those who entered the castle; and that coaches and carts were not searched until leaving, in case, like Captain Blood, they tried to steal the royal jewels. From which explanation it was plain enough to see that it would have been a simple matter to have transported a headless corpse into the Mint in a haycart.

Thence we walked down Water Lane and, entering the inner ward, made our way toward the Grand Storehouse, where, the porter had informed us, Sergeant Rohan might be found. As we drew level with the Chapel Royal of St. Peter ad Vincula, we saw two men coming toward us in the dark who we only latterly recognised as Sergeant Rohan and Major Mornay.

“Doctor Newton?” said Mornay. “What means this rumour? It’s given out that another body has been found.”

“Aye, Major. Daniel Mercer. In the Mint.”

“Mercer?” said Mornay. “I don’t think I knew him. Was he one of yours, Doctor?”

“Yes, Major,” said Newton. “He was one of the engravers.”

“This is most vexing,” said Mornay.

“Aye, for me, too, who must investigate it according to my own judgements.”

“Lord Lucas will need to be kept informed.”

“And he will be,” allowed Newton. “But only when I believe I know enough myself not to be wasting His Lordship’s valuable time. He has great affairs to dispatch, I daresay, great affairs.”

“Yes, most certainly,” agreed Major Mornay with something less than certitude.

“But perhaps you and the Sergeant may help me expedite my enquiries in one small matter, for you may have seen something when you both met on the Brass Mount earlier this evening. Mercer’s body was left upon the Sally Port stairs at around that time.”

“You are mistaken, Doctor,” said the Major. “We were not on the Brass Mount.”

Newton smiled his chilliest of smiles. “The world loves to be deceived.” He removed his hat and, sighing loudly, stared up at the star-encrusted sky. “But myself, I trust not the guise of the world, Major Mornay. And I do not care to be deceived when I have the evidence of my own senses to rely upon. So I say again, you and Sergeant Rohan met upon the Brass Mount and I ask you to tell me if you saw anything untoward happen below you in Mint Street.”

“I must be gone,” said the Major stiffly. “I have no leisure to throw away on your conversation, Doctor Newton. You have had my answer, sir.”

“Before you go, Major,” said Newton, “would you like your belt buckle back?”

The Major reached for the buckle of his own sword belt and, finding it gone, gasped when he saw it held like a magician’s coin in Newton’s outstretched hand.

“Silver, is it not?” asked Newton.

“How did you come by that, sir?” he asked, collecting it from Newton’s hand.

“I found it on the outer rampire,” said Newton. “Close to the Brass Mount. I believe it fell from your belt when Sergeant Rohan struck you to the ground and then wrestled you to your feet again.”

“It is not possible we were observed,” whispered Major Mornay.

“Tell me, Major, is it common practice in the Army for sergeants to strike their officers with impunity?”

“I think you are mistaken, sir,” said Sergeant Rohan. “I struck no officer.”

“No more did you threaten him, I suppose.”

“It was a private matter,” said Mornay. “Between two gentlemen.”

“Nay, sir, between an officer and a sergeant. Tell me, Major, are you still carrying the letter the Sergeant gave you?”

“Letter?”

“And you, Sergeant. Are you still in possession of the Major’s guinea?”

“What manner of a man are you?” Rohan asked, much disturbed, as if he almost believed it to be some kind of witchcraft that Newton knew so much about their affairs.

“I am a man that sees much and understands more,” said Newton. “Think on that when next you and Major Mornay discourse your hidden matter. Was that what you argued about? The most secret of secrets?”

“I know not what you mean, sir,” answered Sergeant Rohan.

“I cannot imagine that you could mistake me. I was plain enough. Even for a Frenchman to understand.”

“I’ll give you no further account of my actions, sir,” said the Sergeant.

“There’s nothing but impudence can help you out now,” said Newton.

“Come, sir,” Rohan said to Mornay. “Let’s away, lest this gentleman be foolish enough to call me a liar to my face.” Whereupon the two soldiers walked away toward the Bloody Tower, leaving me almost as surprised as they were themselves.

Newton watched their retreat with something like delight, rubbing his hands together. “I think that I have put the bear in the pit, so to speak.”

“But was it wise, Doctor, to provoke them so?” I asked him. “With two murders done here or hereabouts?”

“Three,” said Newton. “Let us not forget Mister Macey.”

“And did you not counsel caution to me, for fear that it might hinder the recoinage? Or perhaps something worse?”

“It is too late for that, I fear. The damage is done. And it has been in my thoughts this past half an hour that some disruption to the recoinage was surely intended by this murderer.”

“When this gets out, it may be the Minters will be too afeared to come to the Tower.”

“Indeed that is so. I shall speak to Mister Hall, and advise him that the wages of the Minters should be increased to take account of their fears.”

Newton glanced back at the two retreating figures of Rohan and Mornay.

“But I think that those two should be provoked, for they are much too conspiratorial. Like Brutus and Cassius. Perhaps now they will reveal their design in some way, for it seems certain there is some great secret in this Tower.”

“But, Master, how ever did you know these things? Their argument. The buckle. The letter. I think that they must have suspected you of some sorcery.”

“It was only the sorcery of two polished copper plates,” said Newton. “The one convex, the other concave, and ground very true to one another.”