“Who?” said I, for this was the first time I ever clapped eyes on Mister Neale, who was notionally in charge of the Mint but whose appearances there were as rare as hen’s teeth.
“This, Ellis, is Mister Neale, who goes by the title of Master Worker, although I think he would count it some kind of misfortune indeed if ever he had to work at all. Indeed I think it would quite spoil the purchase of his office altogether if the business of this Mint were to intrude upon his pleasures and projections. For as I have told you he leaves the general management of this Mint to the joint comptrollers, and the chief clerk.”
Seeing us now, the Master Worker saluted us most affably and walked toward us, while all the time Newton fulminated like salt-petre in a crucible upon Mister Neale’s lack of diligence.
I judged Mister Neale to be about sixty years of age, somewhat fat, but handsomely dressed with wig and silk coat abundantly powdered, bullion-fringed gloves, a fine beaver hat, and a fur-lined cape. But by his conversation I found him to be an easygoing sort of fellow, the very kind of man I would once have chosen for to accompany to a tavern, and mighty merry besides in inveighing against Lord Lucas, the Tower’s Lord Lieutenant, which was all the opinion he and Newton held in common.
“This is unexpected,” said Newton, with a bow. “What brings you here, Mister Neale?”
Mister Neale was accompanied at a distance by a middle-sized fellow who somehow seemed familiar to me. This other man was about forty years old, with a hooked nose, a sharp chin, grey eyes and a mole near his mouth; he wore an expensive wig, and a diamond pinkie on his finger; and yet he looked most unaccountably shabby and more melancholy of countenance than perhaps he ought to have.
The Master Worker introduced his glum companion as Mister Daniel Defoe, to whom the Master Worker had let his official house that was in the Tower.
“But I thought it was already let,” objected Newton. “To Mister Barry.”
“It was, it was,” chuckled Mister Neale. “However, another gentleman played me at cards and, having lost all of his money, persuaded me to take the lease as his bet. Which he then lost. But no sooner had I won it back myself than I lost it again to this friend of mine here.” Neale grinned railingly at Mister Defoe who nodded back at him silently.
“Mister Defoe, this is the famous Doctor Newton, a very great scientist. If you stay in the house yourself you’ll see a lot of him about the Mint. He is, by reputation, most diligent in his duties as the Warden.”
“Diligence is but the father of good economy,” said Mister Defoe, bowing to Newton.
“Mister Defoe, I trust you will be very comfortable in your new house,” said Newton.
“Is it always this noisy?” asked Mister Defoe.
Newton glanced around, almost surprised. “I confess that I hardly notice the noise, unless someone mentions it first. One become used to it, I suppose.”
Even as we spoke a cannon fired up on the outer rampire, which made Mister Defoe almost jump out of his own skin.
Newton smiled. “One never becomes used to the sound of the cannon, I’m afraid.”
By and by, these two men took their leave of us, upon which Newton sighed most profoundly and shook his head.
“I thought this a better venture than a church living,” he said. “But with men like that around, their pockets full of false dice and fees from all sides, I’m not so sure. Did you not think Mister Defoe looked like the most dishonest gentleman you ever saw?”
Even as I replied that I did think there were more honest-looking men in the condemned hold of Newgate, and that doubtless Mister Defoe would fit in well with some of the crook-fingered types that were already in the Tower, I remembered where it was that I had seen Mister Defoe.
“I believe I have seen that gentleman before,” said I. “It was when I was still at Gray’s Inn. He was before the King’s Bench for debt, and threatened with the sponging house. I remember him only because of the peculiar circumstances of the case, which pertained to a scheme for the raising of sunken treasure by means of a diving bell.”
“A diving bell?”
“Yes sir, to enable a man to breathe under water.”
Newton’s interest was piqued. “I would wish to know more about our new neighbour,” he admitted. “See what else you may discover about him. For I don’t much like having bankrupt men in a place like this. And at the very least I should like to be told if he be friend, or he be foe.”
I smiled, for it was rare indeed that Newton did make a joke. “I will, master.”
Walking on a way, near the engraver’s house, we saw Richard Morris, who was another engraver, and Newton spoke with him awhile about a great many things, so that I almost did not notice how he subtly enquired after the health of Daniel Mercer, who now stood accused by Scotch Robin and John Hunter.
“He is well, I think,” said Mister Morris. “His uncle in America is lately died. But he is left some money, and does not seem too much put out.”
“A little money will often soften a man’s grief,” said Newton.
“It’s most convenient to have an uncle in America leave him money,” said Newton when we were alone in our office. “For there’s nothing attracts attention like a sudden bout of spending.”
“I had the same thought,” I said.
After this we had dinner, which I was very glad of, and while we dined we talked of other matters pertaining to the Mint as well as religious affairs, for I was keen to know more of why my master disputed Our Lord’s divinity; and I said that it was a strange thing indeed, for one who had been a professor at Holy Trinity College in Cambridge for so many years, not to believe in the very doctrine which had inspired the founding of that same college. But, hearing this, Newton became silent, as if I had accused him of hypocrisy, and I was glad when, by and by, his steel-nosed intelligencer in the mill rooms, Mister Kennedy, visited our office, as requested.
“Mister Kennedy,” said Newton. “What do you know of Daniel Mercer?”
“Only that he is an engraver, whom I had thought to be an honest man. I know him to look at, I think. But not to speak to.”
“You said you
“In truth, ’tis only your enquiry makes me think that it might be otherwise, sir. I’ve not seen or heard anything that might make me think otherwise. If I had, I assure you I would have told you straightaway.”
“I know you are a good fellow, Kennedy.” Newton placed a bright new guinea on the table in front of him. “I should like you to perform a service for me. I should like you to spy on Daniel Mercer.”
“If it be for the good of the Mint, sir,” said Kennedy, eyeing the guinea. He made it sound as if he had not spied for us before, when he had done so, many times, and for less money than was being offered to him now.
“It is. He is named from inside Newgate by Scotch Robin and John Hunter.”
“I see.” Kennedy sniffed loudly, and then checked that his metal nose, held onto his face by a length of string tied behind his head, was straight. “They might think to save their skin, of course, by naming an innocent man.”
“It does you credit to say so, Kennedy. But they were each questioned apart, and named Mercer separately, without any prompting from me.”
“I see.” Kennedy picked up the guinea.
“Mercer is suspected of stealing guinea dies. I should like you to tell me if you think it be true or not. Who his confederates are. And where they are to be found.” He nodded at the guinea in Kennedy’s grimy hand. “There will be another like it if your evidence may be used in court.”
“Thank you, sir.” Kennedy pocketed the guinea and nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
After this, Newton went to the Treasury while I returned to my house all the afternoon and night, writing up the depositions I had taken in several other cases that were pending—which work I was at till midnight, and then to supper, and to bed.
At about three of the clock I was awakened by Thomas Hall, the special assistant to Mister Neale, who appeared before me in a highly agitated state.
“What is it, Mister Hall?” I asked.
“Mister Ellis. Something terrible has happened. Mister Kennedy has been found dead in the most horrible circumstances.”
“Mr. Kennedy? Dead? Where?”
“In the Lion Tower.”
