in?’
‘There was no point. They were tenements, and people came and went from both the whole time I was there – it would have been like trying to block the flow of the Thames. I did not attempt what would have been both futile and impossible.’
Chaloner was seriously unsettled. Coo should have notified the authorities at once, and keeping the news until ‘an envoy from the government’ came to question him had been unforgivably reckless. He said so.
‘Why?’ asked Coo with quiet reason. ‘Could
you
shut every house and shop that DuPont walked by? Identify every person he might have passed? No, of course not. And as I told you, the disease is confined to the purlieus of St Giles—’
‘But it will not stay confined if infected people wander around the city,’ Chaloner pointed out. ‘You have seen what it can do – you do not need me to remind you of the dangers.’
‘No,’ acknowledged Coo. ‘But Cheapside heaves with unrest at the moment, because of the greed of the goldsmith–bankers who live here, and slapping quarantines on it will do nothing to soothe the situation. I do not want riots and mayhem if they can be avoided.’
Chaloner itched to remark that riots and mayhem were preferable to an epidemic that would kill everyone, but why bother when the deed was done? ‘What else do you know about DuPont?’
Coo shrugged. ‘Very little. I am told he was French, but I could not place his accent. He was not wealthy, or he would not have been in those particular tenements, although he did mention the possibility of earning a lot of money in the future.’
From the Earl, surmised Chaloner. ‘Did you know that he was a spy?’
Coo blinked. ‘Was he? There was—’
He was interrupted by a knock on the door. He excused himself and went to answer, but the moment he pulled it open, there was a sharp report and a thud. Chaloner was on his feet with a knife in his hand almost without conscious thought. Two masked men stood on the doorstep, and Coo lay in front of them, eyes open but sightless. One held a still-smoking handgun – an elaborate piece with an intricately engraved barrel and an ivory butt. The killer wagged it at Chaloner tauntingly, almost as if daring him to notice what a fine weapon it was.
Chaloner lunged at him with the knife. The gunman hissed his alarm and shied away, but his companion was made of sterner stuff. He also had a firearm, although it was an ancient thing, quite unlike the elegant affair held by the first. There was a flash, a ringing crack and then nothing.
Chapter 2
Chaloner had no idea how long he lay sprawled on Coo’s floor, although he sensed it was no more than a few moments. He became aware of a buzz of excited conversation, and opened his eyes to see a number of silhouettes looming over him. All jerked back in alarm when he moved, clearly having thought him dead. There was a persistent ringing in his ears, and the bright flash of the discharge still marred his vision, no matter how many times he blinked.
He sat up and removed his hat to discover the metal marred by a dent. Fortunately, the old gun had not been very powerful – or perhaps its owner had been niggardly with the powder – so although the impact had stunned him, it had done him no serious harm. Gradually, his senses returned to normal, and he saw that Shaw and Lettice were among the horrified onlookers.
‘We thought you were dead,’ Shaw murmured, helping Chaloner to his feet. ‘Which would have been a pity. Not only would it be a waste of a decent violist, but it would be unseemly to ask a new-made widow for forty pounds.’
Lettice giggled, although Chaloner suspected it was more to conceal her embarrassment than because she had found the remark amusing.
‘We heard two sharp cracks from our shop,’ she explained. ‘I thought it was gunfire…’
‘But I told her that was impossible,’ finished Shaw. ‘Not in broad daylight on Cheapside. This is London, not the United Provinces.
‘There was no point. They were tenements, and people came and went from both the whole time I was there – it would have been like trying to block the flow of the Thames. I did not attempt what would have been both futile and impossible.’
Chaloner was seriously unsettled. Coo should have notified the authorities at once, and keeping the news until ‘an envoy from the government’ came to question him had been unforgivably reckless. He said so.
‘Why?’ asked Coo with quiet reason. ‘Could
you
shut every house and shop that DuPont walked by? Identify every person he might have passed? No, of course not. And as I told you, the disease is confined to the purlieus of St Giles—’
‘But it will not stay confined if infected people wander around the city,’ Chaloner pointed out. ‘You have seen what it can do – you do not need me to remind you of the dangers.’
‘No,’ acknowledged Coo. ‘But Cheapside heaves with unrest at the moment, because of the greed of the goldsmith–bankers who live here, and slapping quarantines on it will do nothing to soothe the situation. I do not want riots and mayhem if they can be avoided.’
Chaloner itched to remark that riots and mayhem were preferable to an epidemic that would kill everyone, but why bother when the deed was done? ‘What else do you know about DuPont?’
Coo shrugged. ‘Very little. I am told he was French, but I could not place his accent. He was not wealthy, or he would not have been in those particular tenements, although he did mention the possibility of earning a lot of money in the future.’
From the Earl, surmised Chaloner. ‘Did you know that he was a spy?’
Coo blinked. ‘Was he? There was—’
He was interrupted by a knock on the door. He excused himself and went to answer, but the moment he pulled it open, there was a sharp report and a thud. Chaloner was on his feet with a knife in his hand almost without conscious thought. Two masked men stood on the doorstep, and Coo lay in front of them, eyes open but sightless. One held a still-smoking handgun – an elaborate piece with an intricately engraved barrel and an ivory butt. The killer wagged it at Chaloner tauntingly, almost as if daring him to notice what a fine weapon it was.
Chaloner lunged at him with the knife. The gunman hissed his alarm and shied away, but his companion was made of sterner stuff. He also had a firearm, although it was an ancient thing, quite unlike the elegant affair held by the first. There was a flash, a ringing crack and then nothing.
Chapter 2
Chaloner had no idea how long he lay sprawled on Coo’s floor, although he sensed it was no more than a few moments. He became aware of a buzz of excited conversation, and opened his eyes to see a number of silhouettes looming over him. All jerked back in alarm when he moved, clearly having thought him dead. There was a persistent ringing in his ears, and the bright flash of the discharge still marred his vision, no matter how many times he blinked.
He sat up and removed his hat to discover the metal marred by a dent. Fortunately, the old gun had not been very powerful – or perhaps its owner had been niggardly with the powder – so although the impact had stunned him, it had done him no serious harm. Gradually, his senses returned to normal, and he saw that Shaw and Lettice were among the horrified onlookers.
‘We thought you were dead,’ Shaw murmured, helping Chaloner to his feet. ‘Which would have been a pity. Not only would it be a waste of a decent violist, but it would be unseemly to ask a new-made widow for forty pounds.’
Lettice giggled, although Chaloner suspected it was more to conceal her embarrassment than because she had found the remark amusing.
‘We heard two sharp cracks from our shop,’ she explained. ‘I thought it was gunfire…’
‘But I told her that was impossible,’ finished Shaw. ‘Not in broad daylight on Cheapside. This is London, not the United Provinces.
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