Murder on High Holborn by Susanna Gregory

Swan is especially disreputable,’ Hill went on. ‘And everyone who visits wears a disguise. I might not have recognised Mr Ferine, but his bucket-topped boots are distinctive.’
    Chaloner was thoughtful. So Ferine had been involved in business that had necessitated hiding his identity. ‘What do you think he was doing there?’
    Hill’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Being seduced by the devil. Satan likes High Holborn, which is why I preach there: to remind him that there
are
godly men in this wicked city.’
    Chaloner decided to visit High Holborn later, to see if he could learn what Ferine had really been doing. ‘Will you tell me what happened last night?’
    ‘Ferine came at nine, the same time as Dr Lambe, who is the Duke of Buckingham’s physician. Or should I say his
sorcerer
?’ Hill hissed the last word, giving it a sinister timbre.
    ‘Ferine and Lambe were friends?’
    ‘They knew each other. After all, a pagan and a warlock are likely bedfellows.’
    ‘How did Ferine seem to you?’
    ‘Cheerful, noisy, drunk. He played two games of Blind-Man’s Buff and one of Chase the Lady before retiring upstairs with Snowflake. Earlier, he had told me that a personal disaster was in the offing for the thirteenth, and said that he intended to be home before midnight in the hope of avoiding it. He must have lost track of time.’
    ‘I need a list of everyone who was here – staff and guests.’
    ‘I cannot,’ said Hill shortly. ‘Our guests’ privacy must be respected. But you will be wasting your time if you pester them anyway. I told you, the villain is an intruder, a stranger who broke in for mischief. I will stake my soul on it.’
    Chaloner entered the club cautiously – on previous occasions he had narrowly escaped being hit with lobbed food, not all of it removed from its serving dishes. But there was nothing to fear that morning, because the place was unusually quiet. Maude nodded a greeting from her desk at the foot of the stairs, and made a gesture with her hand to say that business was slow. He stood in the hall and looked into the parlour. Four patrons were playing a card game called lanterloo, while half a dozen more were enjoying desultory conversation with some of the girls. He had never seen the club so empty. Temperance came to greet him, grey smudges of worry under her eyes.
    ‘Williamson sent us a note saying that you will be looking into what happened to Ferine. Thank God! I was afraid he might use Doines, and that would have been the end of us for certain. As it is, rumours have started to circulate, and precious few of our regulars came last night.’
    ‘Courtiers have short memories,’ said Chaloner comfortingly. ‘They will soon forget.’
    Temperance’s expression was bleak. ‘Will they? Reputation is everything, and ours has been compromised. You
must
find the killer, Tom. We shall not recover until you do.’
    ‘Then tell Hill to give me a list of everyone who was here when Ferine died. Your patrons are potential witnesses, and might have seen something useful.’
    ‘We cannot.’ Temperance handed him a piece of paper. ‘This explains why.’
    It was the letter from Williamson, informing her that Chaloner would be investigating Ferine’s murder, and going on to say that there would be dire consequences if members of the government, Court, the Church or the mercantile community were harassed in any way. Its tone was darkly menacing, and Chaloner was not surprised that Temperance was keen to comply. He was irked, though. How was he supposed to solve the case when he was forbidden to speak to witnesses?
    ‘May I interview your staff, or are they off limits, too?’ he asked coolly.
    Temperance patted his arm. ‘I shall assemble them for you now. Wait in the parlour until they are ready and help yourself to a glass of wine.’
    It was far too early in the day for drinking, so Chaloner studied the guests instead. The four men at lanterloo were Admiral Lawson, Dr Lambe,