A Conspiracy of Paper

much light for my purposes. The only furniture, I was hardly surprised to note, was a narrow bed covered with a tattered blanket and a family of rats that scurried away as we entered.

I hardly knew enough of her to speculate how the interview would proceed—I knew not if she would fight or cower. She sat quietly upon the bed and looked down, neither asking nor expecting anything of me. “Well, Kate,” I said, forcing an ironic smile, lost upon her in the dusky cell. “You’ve landed yourself in a bit of a situation, haven’t you?”

“I won’t ’ang for something I didn’t do.” She so struggled to master her voice, I thought her jaw might snap from the pressure. She looked me full in the face. I could not mistake that she meant to challenge me. “Ah, Christ,” she muttered, “ah, Jemmy.”

“I am sorry for what happened to Jemmy,” I told her softly.

She shook her head. “Jemmy,” she muttered. Her head sunk low, almost to her lap. “Well, ’e won’t be ’itting me no more, least. Or making me ’oard that what we can’t sell to no one without Wild finding out. This is all ’is fault, I reckon.” She suddenly looked up and met my eye. “And yer fault too. And I won’t ’ang for what I didn’t do.”

“No,” I said. “You won’t hang, Kate, if we strike a bargain. I shall see to it. I cannot guarantee you will not be transported—but perhaps seven years in the colonies will help you to recover from the misfortunes of your life, as well as to escape the clutches of an unforgiving benefactor such as Mr. Wild.” She started at the sound of his name. “This is what I shall do for you, Kate. I shall give you money enough to keep yourself away from the common sort while you stay here. Further, I shall use my influence with the magistracy to make sure that if you are convicted you are not sentenced to hang. I shall do what I can to see you acquitted—I don’t want Wild to earn any money from your misfortune—but I can only promise you that you will not hang. Do you understand?”

“Aye,” she said, her lips turning in a hint of an ironic smile. “I understand yer afraid I’ll tell them about yer.” She used the ends of her hair to wipe blood and filth from her forehead.

“No, I’m not, Kate. For you don’t know my name and you don’t know who I am. Further, were I to be brought forward, I would be forced to tell the court the truth—that I killed Jemmy while he tried to rob me—while he tried to rob me with your help. I can keep you alive if you cooperate with me, but if you force my hand you will hang. You are angry to be sure. You have been betrayed by Wild; I understand that. But if you want to stay alive, you had better listen to what I tell you. I know you do not like me—you see me as the reason that you are here, but you must understand that I am the only person who is able to help you presently.”

“Why should ya ’elp me?” She did not look up, but her voice was steady and demanding.

“Not out of kindness, I assure you. Because it is in my best interest to do so.” I kept my voice calm as I spoke to her. She saw I had a little power—enough to bribe the guard. For a woman in Kate’s position, having a few pounds in one’s purse and a mighty wig upon one’s head was no great distance from influence with the courts. It was all a lie, of course. I had no influence, but I had to do everything in my power to keep her quiet. In return I would help as best I could, and make her believe that my influence would be enough. “Do not think you can harm me, Kate. You can make my life more complicated—no more. In exchange for promising to avoid these complications, I shall promise to keep you alive, and if I can, to have you declared innocent of this murder.”

The look about her face did not change, but I now had her attention. She stared at me for many minutes before speaking. “What do ya want of me?”

I had accomplished something, for she now showed at least that she was willing to listen to me. “Two things only. First, that you do not mention me in any way. I care not what you tell the court—but you are not to mention that a gentleman did this thing. Jemmy was a dangerous man with many enemies far more likely than you to shoot him. For all I care, you can hint that there was a rivalry with Jemmy and Wild—that should prove a just recompense for his treachery. But you must not mention me nor your own knowledge of this accident. Do you understand, Kate? There is no evidence to support a conviction. Tell the court you know nothing, and the evidence will work for you—the facts will do you more service than your words ever could.”

“Why should I trust you or the court?” she asked. “They ’ang them they want and free them they want. With Wild sayin’ I done it, I’ll never live to see Christmas ’less I plead my belly.” I wondered if she was indeed pregnant, or if she simply intended to plead her belly, as so many women did, to grant them a few extra months of life.

“You overestimate Wild’s influence,” I said, finding no alternative than to lie boldly, “and you underestimate mine. You can see I am a gentleman and that I have powerful friends who are gentlemen. Do you understand what I have been telling you? If you admit to being there, to seeing what you saw, you will be admitting to a capital crime—if not the crime for which you are sitting here. If you are quiet, you cannot be convicted. Do you want to live?”

“Of course I want to live,” she said bitterly. “Don’t ask me foolish questions.”

“Then you will do as I tell you.”

She eyed me boldly. “Give me any reason to doubt ya, any reason at all, I’ll tell what I know, and the devil take the consequences. That’s why I want ya should tell me yer name.”

“My name,” I repeated.

“Aye. Tell me yer name, or I don’t do what yer ask.”

“My name,” I said, attempting to think of some lie I might easily remember. “My name is William Balfour.” Perhaps I should have picked a name with even more distance from myself, but it was the first thing that came to mind. Besides, I thought, any confusion I might dump on Balfour was no less than the pompous fellow deserved.

Kate studied me. “I know a William Balfour, and yer not ’im. A niggardly gentleman what used to come see me. But I reckon there might be more’n one of such a name.”

Indeed there might be, I silently agreed, wondering if the Balfour she knew was the Balfour who had hired my services. But I could not worry myself about which whores a man like Balfour visited. “There is another, more important matter that we must attend to. As you know, I came to you to retrieve a friend’s goods. There was something in particular that he believed to be in his pocketbook, but that was not in there. Did you take anything from that book, Kate?”

She shrugged. “I don’t remember ’im. One drunken fool’s the same as the next.”

I sighed. “Where do you keep the goods you take?”

“Some Wild’s got—but most of the things I stashed before I went to tell him ’bout Jemmy.”

“What do you have stored now?”

“Wigs, watches . . .” She trailed off, as though forgetting of what she had been speaking.

I sighed. If Wild had the letters then I would have to tell Sir Owen that precisely what he wished to avoid had come to pass. “You know of no papers? A packet of letters, bound with a yellow ribbon, sealed with wax?”

“Oh, aye, the papers.” She nodded, strangely pleased with herself. “Quilt Arnold’s got those, ’e does. ’E thinks they’re worth somethin’. ’E saw ’em and said they must be some gentleman’s love letters—all smelling pretty and nice—and that such a gentleman would want ’em back, ’e said.”

I tried to disguise my relief. “Who is Quilt Arnold, and where might I find him?”

Quilt Arnold, it turned out, had been Jemmy’s competition for Kate’s affections before Jemmy had met with his unfortunate rendezvous with my ball of lead. He frequented an alehouse at the sign of the Laughing Negro located in Aldwych, near the river. She ran a similar buttock-and-twang scheme with Arnold there, but the pickings had been slimmer for the patronage had been poorer: mainly sailors and porters and others who could be taken for a few shillings at most. Kate had sent Arnold word after I’d put a hole in Jemmy, and he promised he would take care of her, although mainly what he did was load himself up with as much of Kate’s booty as he could carry and then advise her to talk to Wild.

“Have you any notion,” I asked Kate, “what exactly Quilt Arnold thinks these letters worth?”

“Oh, I reckon ’e expects to get ten or twenty pound, ’e does.”

I feared that this business was turning less and less profitable. I was loath to hand over twenty pounds to this blackguard, but I had no choice but to regain these letters. “Do you know where he keeps them?” If I could burgle the letters, I thought, rather than negotiate for them, I might save myself some time, money, and danger. Such was not to be the case.

“ ’E said ’e would keep ’em ’pon ’im,” Kate told me, “for ’e said ’e knew that someone would be comin’ for ’em sooner or later. They wasn’t safe nowhere else, ’e said.”

This information certainly narrowed my options. If this Arnold had a notion of what was in the letters, it could be quite bad for Sir Owen. They need not have the proof to spread damaging rumors, particularly if this Sarah