“Tell me how your inquiry proceeds?” Adelman asked, as he turned to dragging a chunk of chalk-bread through the grease of his chop.
This was by no means the first time someone had placed pork before me, and I had not much scrupled to eat it since I had run away from home. Nevertheless, there was something so distressing about Adelman’s need to devour pig flesh before my eyes that made the thought utterly distasteful to me. “It proceeds apace, I believe.” I dipped a piece of bread into the grease and then set it back down.
Adelman laughed, his mouth full of food. “I am pleased to hear it. I trust the clerks at South Sea House are giving you their full cooperation.”
“Would that all of South Sea House gave me its full cooperation.”
Adelman continued to dig at his food. “You have yet to ask of me anything I can provide.”
“You have made it clear that you would provide me with nothing.”
He glanced at me. “No taste for pork, eh? I thought you more modern than that.” He shook his head and smiled. “Your foolishness about diet is much like the foolishness of your inquiry. I had hoped to dissuade you from a course born of tribal ignorance, but if I cannot prevent your inquiry, I hope to limit the damage it does this Kingdom.”
I thought it a bit obvious; he wished to lead me astray, and any information I received of Adelman I would have to scrutinize with care. “Very well, then,” I said, ready to test his new spirit. “What can you tell me of Perceval Bloathwait?”
Adelman set down his fork. “Bloathwait? What concern is he of yours?”
“I believe my father was a concern of his. And,” I added, hoping to incite some response, “he has made it clear that he wishes to aid me in my inquiry.”
Adelman made a sound of disgust. “He wishes to aid you so long as he might cast aspersions upon South Sea House. Allow me to tell you a fine story, Mr. Weaver. As you may recall, four years ago, when the Pretender made his most violent attempt to invade this island and retake the throne for the House of Stuart, there were at one point rumors that the Pretender’s carriage was on its way to London. You may also recollect, sir, the panic caused by this rumor—the idea that the Pretender should feel safe to enter the city as its monarch made many a man believe that the war had already been all but lost and King George would flee. In reality, the rebellion had already been quite stopped in Scotland, but these rumors were not simply fed by mania and fear, for an entourage, including a carriage bearing the insignia of the Pretender, was discovered on the London road.”
“I fail to see what this has to do with me.”
“No doubt,” Adelman said. “But you will. When news of the Pretender’s advance on London reached ’Change Alley, stock prices plummeted. Every man with large investments in the funds sold out for fear that if the Pretender succeeded in his attempt to replace King George, then the funds would be worth nothing. Now, I do not wish to suggest that every man who bought during this crisis was a villain. There were many patriots, myself included, who had faith in His Majesty’s ability to withstand an invasion. But Mr. Bloathwait bought tremendously, and he made an inestimable fortune when the invasion was revealed to be a hoax and the stock prices normalized.”
“Your idea of villainy is rather changeable,” I observed. “You say you also bought when the prices fell. Is he a blackguard because he bought more than you?”
“No, he is a blackguard because he orchestrated the panic,” Adelman said, taking a bite of chop. “Bloathwait hired the coaches, had them appear as the Pretender and his men, and sat back and awaited the collapse of the markets. It was a very clever plan, and it made a man who was only comfortable into a man who is now very wealthy indeed.”
I betrayed no disgust, hoping my lack of concern would prompt Adelman to reveal even more. “It seems rather like Mr. d’Arblay’s false lottery scare,” I noted blandly.
“The difference is one of scale, I suppose. Mr. d’Arblay threatened to ruin a few investors’ plans. Mr. Bloathwait threatened to ruin an entire nation. I admit I feel some bitterness because when the newspapers excoriate stock-jobbers they have a habit of looking to me, but I am merely a man of business who sees opportunity in serving my nation. Bloathwait is your true villainous stock-jobber. He would, and did, send the entire nation’s finances into chaos to give himself an advantage upon the Exchange. Now, you must decide if you wish to trust such a man.”
“What is it you wish of me, Mr. Adelman?”
“Only to give you some advice. Continue your inquiry, Mr. Weaver. It is spoken of in the coffeehouses now, but not as much as it might be. I say continue, and continue as boldly and as loudly as you dare. Then you may sit back, and like your friend Mr. Bloathwait, watch the prices in ’Change Alley fall, and when they do so, you may buy great quantities. With any luck, the damage you do will last but a short while, and you will find yourself a rich man.”
“What know you,” I began, unimpressed by his speech, “of forged South Sea issues?”
Like a creature from Ovid, Mr. Adelman was suddenly transformed. He sprang forth and grabbed me by the arm, hissing in the most hideous and barely audible voice, “You must never speak of such a thing again. You know not the damage you can do. Those words are like a magic incantation that, if uttered too loudly in the wrong place, can destroy the Kingdom.”
Adelman relaxed somewhat. He returned to his seat. “Forgive my excitement, but there are things of which you know nothing. I cannot sit by and watch you destroy the good we have done.”
“You talk of serving the nation, but you are no different from Bloathwait, who attempts to serve his own profits. I must believe that these things, which I shall do you the courtesy of not mentioning again, exist. I shall continue to pursue that line of inquiry, so you may as well tell me what you know.”
“It is but a vicious rumor,” Adelman said, after ruminating for a moment, “started by Bloathwait. A hoax, like his Pretender’s carriage. For all I know he produced some false stock and circulated it to give his story credit, but I promise you, it is but a ruse to ruin the credit of this Company, and you, Mr. Weaver, are but a tool of those who would bring about such a ruin.”
“What if I told you that my father believed in the existence of such false stock—that he believed that a factor within South Sea House produced it?”
“I would say that you have been most horribly deceived. Your father was too perspicacious a jobber to believe such a false rumor.”
I waited a moment, hoping to unnerve Adelman. “I am in possession of evidence,” I said at last. I chose not to clarify if I had evidence of the false stock or my father’s belief in it.
“What manner of evidence?” Adelman’s face now grew crimson beneath his white wig.
“I shall only say that it is evidence that has quite convinced me.” I overstated my conviction in my father’s pamphlet—for all I knew, it was but hyperbolic rhetoric—but I believed I had an advantage over Adelman and I wished to use it for all it was worth.
“What have you?” he demanded. “A false issue?” He spoke those words so quietly he did little more than move his lips. “If that is what you have, let me promise that what you have is a base forgery. Such a thing could never have come from South Sea House—if you have anything it is only designed to make you believe it to be something it is not, something it cannot be.”
“A forgery of a forgery?” I almost laughed. “A feint within a feint? How very charming. This stock-jobbery is as much the devil as its enemies say.”
“Name your price for this ‘evidence’ of yours. Do not for a moment believe that I think what you have is proof of anything, but if I have to pay to keep rumors from circulating, I shall do so.”
I hope I shall not disillusion my reader if I say that, for an instant at any rate, I wondered what my price might be. What loyalty had I to my father that I should turn away a sum of money to do what I had done for so many years—forget him. What could Adelman mean when he said I might name my price? A thousand pounds? Ten thousand? Might it not be wise to clarify his meaning before rejecting this offer?
It is always something of a disappointment for me when I learn that I have not the stomach for such villainy or calculation as might be in my best interest. And perhaps to overcompensate for this war that raged inside me, I assumed a stance of indignation. “My price? My price is knowing who killed my father and Balfour—and why. There is no other price.”
“Damn you, sir.” He threw his utensils hard upon the table.
I admit I enjoyed this moment of power, and I saw no reason not to indulge myself. “Damn me, you say? Would you care to damn me at dawn tomorrow morning at Hyde Park?”
