before beginning my observations.”
“Why not ask him?” I said, indicating the sentry on the wall.
“Because it was not he who was on guard,” Newton replied with a certitude that surprised me.
“But he would surely know the name of the man he relieved,” I said, accepting my master’s word on the sentry’s identity. “Should we not ask him now, before Lord Lucas is informed?”
“You are right,” said Newton. “Lord Lucas will only try to obstruct our enquiries, and the business of the Mint. He is a fly in a cow turd that thinks himself a king.”
We went up to the outer rampire, where the cold wind snatched away my hat so that I was obliged to chase after it lest it blow over the wall and into the moat.
“Look you there now,” said the sentry, a little surprised at our being there. “It is a naughty night to see the sights, gentlemen. Best you hold your hat in your hand, sir, unless you’ve a mind to make a present of it to the moon.”
“What is your name?” asked my master.
“Mark, sir,” said the man slowly, his eyes whirling about as if he was not quite sure of this fact. “Mark Gilbert.”
Up close, he looked to be rather small for a soldier and somewhat round-shouldered, although his countenance and manner were of one who seemed alert enough.
“Well, Mister Gilbert, this night a body most cruelly murdered has been discovered in the Mint.”
Gilbert glanced over the wall before spitting down into the Mint.
“And it is imperative that I question all who may have seen something of what happened down there tonight.”
“I’ve seen nothing out of the ordinary, sir,” Gilbert said. “Not since I came on duty.”
“And when was that?”
Before answering, Gilbert spat again so that I had the apprehension that he spat to loosen up his cogitations.
“Five o’clock, sir,” he said.
“And yet you were not walking your beat on this wall at all times since then,” said Newton. “Did Sergeant Rohan and Major Mornay not stand here for a while, also?”
Gilbert frowned that Newton should know this. “Sergeant Rohan relieved me for half an hour, sir. That’s true. But I didn’t see no officer.”
“But why did Sergeant Rohan relieve you at all? It is not common, surely, for a sergeant to relieve an ordinary soldier?”
“True, sir. I cannot say why he did that. And yet I was mighty grateful, for it is that cold, sir. At the time I did think this might be the reason, sir. And Rohan is a good sort for a Frenchie.”
“Sergeant Rohan is a Huguenot?”
“Yes sir.”
“Do you say so?” Newton walked along the wall some way, leaving me with Gilbert.
“Who got murdered, then?” he asked me.
“Daniel Mercer,” I replied.
“No,” said Gilbert. “Danny Mercer? He wasn’t a bad cove, for a Minter. But murdered, you say?”
“It may be so,” I said, for I could see no purpose in alarming the fellow, and in truth I was watching my master more closely than I was listening to Mark Gilbert. Newton had walked along the rampart as far east as the Brass Mount, and back again, pausing only to pick up something from the wall beneath his feet.
“Come,” he said, brushing past me on his way back to the stairs. “Quickly. We are in haste. Thank you, Mister Gilbert.”
Then we repaired to the Byward Tower, which was the entrance to the Tower, where Newton questioned the porter, who confirmed that, provided a man was not carrying a sword or a pistol, no searches were made of those who entered the castle; and that coaches and carts were not searched until leaving, in case, like Captain Blood, they tried to steal the royal jewels. From which explanation it was plain enough to see that it would have been a simple matter to have transported a headless corpse into the Mint in a haycart.
Thence we walked down Water Lane and, entering the inner ward, made our way toward the Grand Storehouse, where, the porter had informed us, Sergeant Rohan might be found. As we drew level with the Chapel Royal of St. Peter ad Vincula, we saw two men coming toward us in the dark who we only latterly recognised as Sergeant Rohan and Major Mornay.
“Doctor Newton?” said Mornay. “What means this rumour? It’s given out that another body has been found.”
“Aye, Major. Daniel Mercer. In the Mint.”
“Mercer?” said Mornay. “I don’t think I knew him. Was he one of yours, Doctor?”
“Yes, Major,” said Newton. “He was one of the engravers.”
“This is most vexing,” said Mornay.
“Aye, for me, too, who must investigate it according to my own judgements.”
“Lord Lucas will need to be kept informed.”
“And he will be,” allowed Newton. “But only when I believe I know enough myself not to be wasting His Lordship’s valuable time. He has great affairs to dispatch, I daresay, great affairs.”
“Yes, most certainly,” agreed Major Mornay with something less than certitude.
“But perhaps you and the Sergeant may help me expedite my enquiries in one small matter, for you may have seen something when you both met on the Brass Mount earlier this evening. Mercer’s body was left upon the Sally Port stairs at around that time.”
“You are mistaken, Doctor,” said the Major. “We were not on the Brass Mount.”
Newton smiled his chilliest of smiles. “The world loves to be deceived.” He removed his hat and, sighing loudly, stared up at the star-encrusted sky. “But myself, I trust not the guise of the world, Major Mornay. And I do not care to be deceived when I have the evidence of my own senses to rely upon. So I say again, you and Sergeant Rohan met upon the Brass Mount and I ask you to tell me if you saw anything untoward happen below you in Mint Street.”
“I must be gone,” said the Major stiffly. “I have no leisure to throw away on your conversation, Doctor Newton. You have had my answer, sir.”
“Before you go, Major,” said Newton, “would you like your belt buckle back?”
The Major reached for the buckle of his own sword belt and, finding it gone, gasped when he saw it held like a magician’s coin in Newton’s outstretched hand.
“Silver, is it not?” asked Newton.
“How did you come by that, sir?” he asked, collecting it from Newton’s hand.
“I found it on the outer rampire,” said Newton. “Close to the Brass Mount. I believe it fell from your belt when Sergeant Rohan struck you to the ground and then wrestled you to your feet again.”
“It is not possible we were observed,” whispered Major Mornay.
“Tell me, Major, is it common practice in the Army for sergeants to strike their officers with impunity?”
“I think you are mistaken, sir,” said Sergeant Rohan. “I struck no officer.”
“No more did you threaten him, I suppose.”
“It was a private matter,” said Mornay. “Between two gentlemen.”
“Nay, sir, between an officer and a sergeant. Tell me, Major, are you still carrying the letter the Sergeant gave you?”
“Letter?”
“And you, Sergeant. Are you still in possession of the Major’s guinea?”
“What manner of a man are you?” Rohan asked, much disturbed, as if he almost believed it to be some kind of witchcraft that Newton knew so much about their affairs.
“I am a man that sees much and understands more,” said Newton. “Think on that when next you and Major Mornay discourse your hidden matter. Was that what you argued about? The most secret of secrets?”
“I know not what you mean, sir,” answered Sergeant Rohan.
“I cannot imagine that you could mistake me. I was plain enough. Even for a Frenchman to understand.”
“I’ll give you no further account of my actions, sir,” said the Sergeant.
