The Body in the Thames (25 page)

‘Then who are you?’

‘I am Yarrow, from the room next door. But this one
is bigger, so I made a hole and helped myself. They will not be needing it. Falcon flew through the wall, and the other two
are in Heaven.’

Chaloner returned to the stairs and called to Sligo. ‘Your guests appear to be moving cells. You had better come down and
check them.’

There was no reply, and for a moment, he thought he had been abandoned. He raced up the steps in a panic, only to find Sligo
drinking from a bottle he had concealed inside his coat.

‘I told you I was cold,’ the Keeper said defensively. ‘Have you finished? Can we go now?’

Chaloner repeated what he had said, watching as Sligo snatched some keys from a hook on a wall, and tore down the stairs in
alarm. He followed, drawing his dagger as the Keeper unlocked the cell door. It swung open to reveal three people. One was
sitting on his haunches, chewing a bone.

‘Yarrow!’ exclaimed Sligo, shocked. ‘You should not be in here.’

A small hole in the wall explained how that had happened. The other two figures were huddled together on the floor, and for
a moment, Chaloner did not understand what he was seeing. But then he turned away in revulsion. The heads of both had been
burned away.

There was a room in Newgate that Wiseman had used to examine dead prisoners before. It was disconcertingly near the area where
food was prepared, and Chaloner did not know which smell was worse – the corpses, or whatever rancid stew was being prepared
for the prisoners’ dinner.

‘They died from inhaling smoke,’ Wiseman said, after
doing something grisly with a knife that had Chaloner and Sligo looking studiously in the opposite direction. ‘You can see
soot here, if you care to look. It can only have entered their airways by them breathing it in.’

‘We will take your word for it,’ said Sligo shakily.

‘There are no other injuries,’ Wiseman went on. ‘And no obvious incidence of disease. But where is Falcon? Unlike Yarrow,
I
do not believe he made his escape by flying through the wall.’

‘I have no idea,’ gulped Sligo. ‘And I do not know how Swan and Swallow caught themselves alight, either, because we do not
allow candles or lamps in Calais.’

Wiseman grimaced. ‘Well, these two have been dead for some time – probably since soon after their arrival – which will certainly
be in my report to His Majesty. It is not healthy to leave corpses lying around for weeks on end. You are lucky that my assistant
struck up a discussion with Yarrow, or they might have lain undiscovered for years.’

‘No!’ objected Sligo. ‘It would have been noticed!’

‘Not if Yarrow was eating their food,’ Chaloner pointed out.

‘How can this have happened?’ breathed Sligo, raising a bottle to his lips with a hand that shook. ‘What will Williamson say?
He will accuse me of ineptitude, but I run a tight ship.
And
I shall have to confess that I let you down there – a place where visitors are forbidden.’

‘We will not tell him if you do not,’ said Chaloner hopefully.

But Sligo shook his head. ‘He will find out, so it is best to be honest.’

‘You say visitors are barred from Calais,’ said Wiseman. ‘But one must have gone down there, because
how else would Falcon have escaped? Or is a gaoler responsible?’

‘My men swear they know nothing about it,’ said Sligo miserably.

‘But?’ asked Chaloner, sensing a caveat.

‘But they do not get paid much, so few of them stay long. And no one questions a strange face.’

‘I see,’ said Wiseman. ‘In other words, anyone can dress up as a guard and get inside?’

‘Well, not
anyone
,’ hedged Sligo. ‘We challenge those who are flagrantly out of place.’

Wiseman regarded him very coldly. ‘Some prisoners are here because they represent a serious threat to the public – killers,
rapists and fanatical dissidents. But now we learn you do not have a secure hold on them. You should be ashamed of yourself
!’

‘We
do
have a secure hold on them!’ cried Sligo, horrified by the accusation. ‘
They
do not have cunning associates who know how to break through our defences.’

‘Why did Swan and Swallow allow themselves to be set alight?’ mused Chaloner, more interested in what had happened than in
berating Sligo. ‘There is no evidence that they were restrained.’

Wiseman tapped his chin thoughtfully. ‘You make a valid point. However, I detect the smell of oil on them.’

‘They were doused in fuel to make them burn?’ Chaloner felt slightly sick.

‘I cannot imagine they went quietly,’ said Wiseman.

‘But why do it?’ asked Chaloner, frustrated that what had looked to be a promising line of inquiry should be cut so brutally
short. ‘Why not rescue them with Falcon?’

‘I know the answer to that,’ said Sligo. ‘One “guard” and one prisoner could deceive us, but not one “guard”
and three prisoners. In other words, Swan and Swallow were sacrificed to allow Falcon – their leader – to go free.’

‘Falcon must be very ruthless,’ said Wiseman, ‘to subject his friends to such a terrible fate.’

‘Oh, he is horrible,’ agreed Sligo. ‘He cursed us when he was first brought here, and frightened some of my guards so much
that they refused to go down there to feed him. And they are not easily intimidated.’

Chaloner recalled what Compton had said about Falcon’s curses, and the odd deaths of his men. He began to wonder whether he
had been told the entire truth about the Sinon Plot, and it occurred to him that it might involve something a lot more sinister
than the theft of a few jewels.

‘So now you have two more murders to investigate,’ said Wiseman, as he and Chaloner left Newgate some time later. ‘Along with
the escape of a dangerous prisoner. And Falcon
is
dangerous, or he would not have been put in Calais.’

‘Two more deaths associated with Sinon,’ said Chaloner, more to himself than the surgeon. ‘There are eight now: Hanse and
possibly Oetje and Ibbot, Compton’s three soldiers, and Swan and Swallow. Assuming the dead men in Calais
are
Swan and Swallow, of course. With their faces burned away, Sligo could not be sure.’

‘No, but I can,’ said Wiseman. He grinned at Chaloner’s surprise. ‘There was a detailed physical description of them in the
pile of papers he left unattended when he went to refill his bottle. You were interviewing the guards, so I took the opportunity
to flick through them.’

Chaloner smiled. ‘Perhaps you should be the Lord Chancellor’s spy.’

‘I prefer surgery, thank you – it is not quite so sordid. But Swan had a mole on his knee, and Swallow had a scar on his forearm.
I checked: they are the same men.’

‘What about Falcon?’ asked Chaloner. ‘What description was given of him?’

Wiseman frowned. ‘Now there is a curious thing: one was not included. Apparently, he possesses the ability to change his appearance,
so the papers said there was no point.’

‘Did these documents tell you anything else?’

‘Just that these three prisoners had been planning to steal the crown jewels. I did hear a rumour that someone intended to
try, but I did not believe it. It seems such an unpatriotic thing to do.’

‘I spoke to the other Calais prisoners while you and Sligo retrieved the bodies,’ said Chaloner. ‘Swan and Swallow were killed
the day after they were brought to Newgate – their screams were heard. The inmates tried to tell the warden who brought their
food, but he would not listen.’

‘The decomposition of the bodies confirms their claim,’ said Wiseman pompously. ‘Swan and Swallow have been mouldering for
at least two weeks. And that means Falcon spent no more than a day in Calais before he was rescued.’

Chaloner nodded. Did it mean Compton was right to think the deaths of his men could be laid at Falcon’s door? If the felon
had been at liberty for so long, then it was not inconceivable that he had plotted his revenge on the soldiers who had arrested
him. Chaloner rubbed
his chin. So, if Falcon had killed Compton’s men, then was he responsible for the other deaths connected to the Sinon Plot,
too – Hanse, Oetje and Ibbot? And if so, how was Chaloner to find him, when he was such a master of disguise that no description
of him was possible?

‘You are very white,’ said Wiseman, after a while during which they walked in silence. ‘However, I did warn you that a visit
to Calais would be distressing, and so did Sligo. You have only yourself to blame if the jaunt upset you.’

Chaloner looked away. ‘I have experienced worse,’ he said quietly. ‘Far worse.’

Wiseman regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then released a gusty sigh. ‘I said earlier that I did not want to know the
nature of your business in Newgate, but I spoke over-hastily. I suspect you need my formidable wits to solve this case.
So you may confide in me, if you like.’

Chaloner saw no problem in doing so, given that much of what he had learned was in the public domain anyway. ‘Falcon, Swan
and Swallow plotted an audacious robbery, but Compton overheard them. Williamson investigated, and when he had convinced himself
that the threat was genuine, he ordered them arrested. Compton obliged, because Williamson’s own men are unpopular.’

‘I suppose they were incarcerated in Calais to keep the affair quiet,’ surmised Wiseman. ‘Although these stories have a way
of seeping out, and this one was bandied around in White Hall.’

Chaloner nodded. ‘But Williamson was wrong when he claimed Falcon had only two helpmeets. He must have
had more, and one disguised himself as a warden and came to let him out.’

‘I would not like to meet this Falcon,’ said Wiseman soberly. ‘The manner in which he chose to murder Swallow and Swan indicates
a malice and depravity that is terrifying.’

‘I still do not understand how he did it. They would have fought with all their might to avoid being doused in oil and set
alight. How did Falcon and one “warden” subdue them?’

‘Perhaps they agreed to the dousing because they were told it was part of a ruse that would let them escape. And then Falcon
applied a flame before they could guess that he had no intention of taking them with him.’

Chaloner found his hands were unsteady, and felt the stink of the gaol had seeped into every pore in his body. He could even
smell it over the stench of the Fleet River as they crossed the bridge at Ludgate, and he could taste it in his mouth.

‘Will you take me to meet Molins now?’ he asked, eager to forge on with the investigation so he could make an end of it.

But Wiseman shook his head. ‘He broke his leg a week ago, but it festered and I was obliged to amputate. It was a lovely piece
of work on my part, and I am confident of a complete recovery. But I stipulated no visitors until tomorrow, and I cannot break
my own rules, not even for you.’

‘How did he break his leg? Did he fall?’

‘He says he was pushed, but I think he was probably drunk. Old Molins likes his wine, and the combination of claret and age
must have rendered him unsteady on his feet.’

Hanse liked a drink, too. Could that be the answer? That Hanse had sought the company of men who did not chide him for overindulgence?
Chaloner supposed he would find out the following day.

It had been some time since Chaloner had reported to the Earl – he had tried the previous day, but had been prevented by Daniel
Cotton’s confession and Hanse’s funeral – so he decided he had better visit White Hall without delay. He went to Tothill Street
to change his clothes first. Two men loitered at the end of the road, leaning against a wall as they smoked their pipes. Had
they been detailed to put his house under surveillance, or were they just enjoying a bowl of tobacco? Chaloner ducked into
the shadows cast by the Westminster Gatehouse and settled down to watch.

It was not long before they were joined by two others. They chatted briefly, then the first couple wandered off, leaving the
second pair behind in a classic case of changing the guard. Chaloner was about to question them – he could tell they were
just common hirelings, so would be no match for him – when he saw three more men at the far end of the street. He grimaced.
They had been placed to catch him coming
or
going, and while he could manage two, five would be a challenge.

Who had ordered them there, and why? Williamson, because he was afraid Chaloner would ignore his orders and investigate the
Sinon Plot anyway? Downing, Nisbett and Kicke because they bore him a grudge? Ruyven, because he wanted to know how Hanse’s
murder was being investigated? Or even Falcon, at large and probably loath for anyone to interfere in his business?

Chaloner cut down the lane that ran parallel to Tothill Street, and entered his house via the back door. Inside, the hairs
he had draped across door handles had disappeared, and there were marks in the powder he had scattered below shelves and chimneys.
He was relieved that Hannah would be staying with Rector Thompson from now on: the house was no longer safe for her.

There was a bucket of water in the scullery, and he felt considerably better once he had scoured the reek of Newgate from
his skin and hair. He donned clean clothes, then gathered a few of Hannah’s possessions – items he thought she might need,
and some of sentimental value. After a moment’s hesitation, he included a book of poetry that had belonged to Aletta. Apart
from his viol – not something that could be slipped into a pocket – it was the only thing he owned that he would not like
to lose. He left the way he had come, noting that guards still stood at the ends of the road.

Hannah was busy with the Queen when he arrived at White Hall. Van Goch had been invited to another official reception, this
one at the Banqueting House, and she was helping Her Majesty to dress for it, so he went to Clarendon’s offices instead. For
the first time in an age, there were no fires burning in the hearth, and all the windows had been thrown open.

‘He is complaining about the heat,’ whispered Bulteel, emerging from his cupboard-like office to intercept Chaloner. ‘Of course,
he would be a lot more comfortable if he removed that thick coat. I did suggest it, but he told me I was a savage to tell
a gentleman to go about undressed.’ He looked away. The remark had hit him where he was most vulnerable.