The Devil's Company

“Of course,” he said, rather quickly. “They don’t turn their backs on money, no matter if it come from the East India or elsewhere. It is an uncomfortable arrangement, but it is one they have come to accept.”

I rose to my feet. “I beg you to listen, men of the silk trade. Is it true that you know Mr. Hale is in the pay of the East India Company?”

All eyes were upon me. I believe I would have been damned for a blackguard liar had not Hale risen to his feet and hurried to the door as quickly as his sickened condition would permit him. A half dozen of his men followed him. I doubted that Hale would get very far, and the only question was what they would do to him once they caught him. He was a sad man and a sick man, and he had sold out his boys for a false hope of a magic cure. There would be rough music, I had no doubt of it, but I also had no doubt that Hale would live to accept his reward of the king’s touch and to discover the falseness of the hope.

ELIAS AND I THOUGHT it best to move to another tavern and found one not too far away, where we sat with our pots and our contemplation.

“I approve your cleverness in discovering Hale’s treachery,” he said, “but the truth is, Weaver, I find it to be too little and too late. I ca

I raised one eyebrow. “What do you say?”

“Well, this isn’t the first time this has happened,” he said. “You become involved in some inquiry, and it is clear that there are great forces out there trying to manipulate you, and despite your best efforts in the end you are manipulated. Maybe some of the more reprehensible people are punished, but those with power get precisely what they want. Does that not bother you?”

“Of course it bothers me.”

“Is there no way to be more vigilant?” he asked. “You know-to prevent this sort of thing from happening so regularly?”

“I suppose there is.”

“Then why have you not availed yourself of it?”

I looked up at him and gri

“But how so?” he asked.

“Finish your pot, and you will find out.”

WE TOOK A COACH to Durham Yard, where we once more knocked on the door and were greeted by Bridget Pepper, Ellershaw’s wife’s daughter. She was chief, I now believed, among those I had styled the Pepper widows. Elias and I were shown inside, where we waited but briefly before the good woman entered the parlor.

“Good afternoon, madam,” I said. “Is your husband home?”

“What cruel joke is this?” she asked. “You know quite well that he is dead.”

“I thought I knew that quite well,” I explained to Elias, but with the intention that she listen as well. “It was one of the few basic truths I was given by Cobb, but then I began to wonder. With so much deception about, how did I know Pepper really was dead? What if Cobb lied to me, or what if Cobb had been lied to? Given that we know he had a traitor in his midst, I now believe it to be the latter.”

“So Pepper is not dead?”

“No. It was part of the agreement he reached with the East India Company. He would give up the plans-plans they knew he would never be able to duplicate on his own because, as one of his other wives explained, he lost ideas the moment he wrote them down. In exchange for this sacrifice, he would be permitted to remain married to this young lady here. And perhaps something else: a new life abroad, I suspect. You must truly love him, to remain by his side despite his-shall we say-excesses.”

“I know not why you should defame his memory and torment me so,” she said. “He’s dead. He’s dead.”

“I wonder,” I said. I removed something from my pocket and showed it to her. “I wonder if this is the sort of thing that might bring him back from the grave.”

With my warmest smile, I showed the young lady the octavo containing the plans for Pepper’s engine.

“WHAT DID ELLERSHAW HAVE?” Elias asked me, as we walked to the back of the house.

“The first book I received from the lady in Twickenham,” I said. “It appeared remarkably similar in form and content, and there was no way to tell the plans it contained were abortive. Indeed, it looked to me so much like the true plans, that had there not been a slight imperfection on the calfskin of the other, a mark in the shape of a P, I would not have been able to tell them apart.”

In the back of the house, Mr. Pepper sat with a book and a glass of wine. He rose to greet me. “I must admit,” he said, “I had some vague hope this was a possibility, but it was never more than a vague hope. You are indeed an impressive man.”

But it was not I who was impressive. There was in fact something about Pepper that radiated more warmth, more kindness, more contentment than any other man I’d ever met. He was indeed handsome, but the world is full of handsome men. No, he had something else, and though I knew it was false, it was still remarkable and undeniable, like a bolt of lightning that one fears but that still produces awe.

I handed him the book. “I suggest you remove yourselves to some other part of the kingdom. The East India Company may not take well to your attempting to realize these plans.”

“No. As you deduced, that was the agreement. My death should be widely reported in order to keep me safe from the French. The ministry went to a great deal of trouble to make sure that French spies intercepted letters telling how the Company had murdered me.”

“And,” I guessed, “Mr. Ellershaw brokered this deal, providing you with a handsome dowry, allowing you to live happily with his stepdaughter, and ignoring your other-shall we say-entanglements, in exchange for surrendering the plans.”

Mrs. Pepper put a hand upon her husband’s shoulder. “You need not dance about the matter,” she said. “I know the somewhat circuitous path my Absalom walked before we came together. I do not resent him for doing what he had to, and now that we are joined I am content to forget his past.”

“But then,” I proposed, “Ellershaw had second thoughts. He could not risk your continued existence and wished to have you removed. It was then Mrs. Ellershaw who protected you and hid you away. That is why she thought I sought out information about her daughter on her husband’s behalf. I don’t know if she understood the truth of Mr. Pepper’s other attachments, but if she did, it could hardly matter more to her than it did to her daughter.”

Pepper patted his wife’s hand and gri

He did not wait for my approbation, but instead began to look through the book. “Oh, yes. Very clever. Very clever indeed. I do have my moments. At times I think myself the very best of men.” He paused and looked up at me. “You must tell me why you do not keep the plans for yourself. This ca

“I don’t want the plans, and I don’t want the reward,” I said. “I could never understand your designs, and bringing them to any useful state should be far more work than I desire. I shall be honest with you, Mr. Pepper. Though we have never met, I have followed your trail all over the metropolis and have found you to be a most reprehensible man. You take what you will and care nothing for the feelings of those you harm.”