just generously given him ammunition against his lordship, should he ever need any.
Though his manner remained brusque, Keen was in fact treading cautiously, careful not to give away the true nature of his situation. It would not do to let Bauer have any power over him.
'I was in the vicinity,' said Keen. 'I had hoped to meet a friend.'
'A friend?'
Assured from the tone that he had left Bauer with the implication that he was seeking a fellow agent, Keen proceeded to describe Jake carefully — without using his name. 'He is a fellow doctor, in a sense,' he noted. 'I had hoped to meet him when he came to the island. He has been away.”
'Where?'
Keen smiled. 'He is quite a traveler, my friend.'
'His name?'
'It is perhaps best not to say.'
'When did he arrive?'
'I believe within the last day, though it is possible I am returning before him. He is the sort much given to delay. I am sure you know the type.'
'Indeed. There was a man here this morning who washed up on shore. His name was Jake Stone or some other such thing, and he said nothing of you, nor of being a doctor.'
'I would hope he would not.'
'I think him a poor spy. He quickly gave himself away and even mentioned Bacon.'
Keen smiled, not bothering to inform Bauer how completely he had been fooled. 'I have had some association with General Sir Henry myself,' said the doctor. 'I would not think one of his men would give himself away.'
'Bacon's intelligence people are not as smart as you believe. We are not enemies, General Bacon and I. Nor are our people. You are here, for example.'
'Come now, surely you don't believe I am in his employ. I am assigned to the admiralty as a surgeon and doctor.'
'Who rarely is aboard ship and is free to come and go as he pleases?'
Keen shrugged. 'I wonder where my friend got to.'
'Perhaps my sister Patricia could tell you more. She spent some time with him, seeing to his breakfast.'
Keen stroked his chin thoughtfully, as if considering whether speaking to her was worth the effort. A few minutes later, he was listening as Lady Patricia recounted the entire meeting. Her continued reference to the man as being 'unexceptional' told the doctor she felt otherwise.
'He was pleasant enough, but he seemed mainly interested in getting to the city. I encouraged him.”
Keen nodded. Lady Patricia had changed from her morning white to a high-waisted gown whose yellow was the bright shade of spring's first daffodils. Though near forty, her face had a radiant, youthful smile, and her charm and grace could easily beguile a much younger man.
To say nothing of Keen himself. Her husband was a weakling, easily managed out of the way.
But duty called. Gibbs would not wait for him.
Perhaps Gibbs would return for Bauer, however. Had he been sent to assassinate him, then warned off by the guards? Clearly he was after the Tory — Keen's best path might well be to shadow the man.
'His eyes perked up when I mentioned the theater,' said Lady Patricia. 'I thought he was going to say something about it, but my brother insisted on dominating the conversation.'
'The theater. You have been?'
'We are going this evening,' said Lady Patricia. 'After some supper and a few errands. We should leave soon, if we are going to eat.'
'The theater in New York is surprisingly good,' hinted Keen.
'So I have been telling my sister,' said Bauer, his tone a harsh hint to Keen.
Which went unheeded.
'I go at every opportunity,' said the doctor.
'Perhaps you would join us this evening,' said Lady Patricia. Her tone was stiff. She did not truly want Keen to accompany them, but extended the invitation for form's sake. In England, it would be completely understood that she had meant the invitation for politeness only.
'I am in the mood for entertainment,' said Keen. 'Thank you, I accept your invitation.'
'Lord Peter Alain is coming with us,' said Bauer, hoping that would put Keen off.
On the contrary. The doctor saw quickly that the young fool might actually be useful. Keen had recently supplied him with certain medicines on account, and he would no doubt gladly make inquiries after Gibbs to discharge the debt. These would not attract the same attention as Keen's. Meanwhile, the doctor would stay close to Bauer in case an attempt was made at the theater.
To say nothing of being near Bauer's sister, reluctant though she might be. Keen rose, extending his arm. 'M'lady, I am at your beck and call this evening.'
'Come then, let me get my husband,' said Lady Patricia, ruining the moment.
Chapter Twenty-two
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The tailor whose shop Claus van Clynne sought was located not far from the tanning yards. It was a good distance from the Sons of Liberty hideout, and the Dutch squire would have readily accepted a ride, had one been proffered. It was not, nor was van Clynne a man who would readily condescend to hire a hack. He therefore contented himself with walking.
Despite his airs and general habits, the Dutchman could mount a considerable pace when motivated, and there was no motivation higher in his mind than the rightful return of his property. Having received a full briefing of the mission from Jake, van Clynne realized that this golden flask was for him a golden opportunity; Washington would react with joyful gratitude when the Dutchman rode into camp tomorrow with the news he was about to discover. There was little doubt but that the commander-in-chief would dispatch a company of men to immediately enforce van Clynne's claims on the purloined estate.
The squire's suit had been severely punished during his recent travails, and so he had a ready job with which to occupy the man and divert his attention. In addition, some months before van Clynne had arranged to supply the tailor with a good load of buttons at a considerable profit; he planned to broach the subject now in case a similar opportunity might present itself.
It should be noted that, while his hate of all things English remained strong and healthy, van Clynne's love of profit was equally vigorous. If he would not sacrifice the former for the latter, he would certainly endeavor to shave or stretch the bounds of both to avoid conflict.
The Dutchman's course ambled across the foot of Golden Hill in view of the harbor, though his personal gaze consisted steadfastly of dry land. He had well
filled his month's quotient for wetness these past few days. Though perhaps not as active as before the war, the port still did a lusty business, and the usual merchant vessels were greatly supplemented by military ships and freelancers operating under what polite society referred to as letters of marque, and more simple folk called pirates. The body of water between Manhattan and Long Island was dotted with masts; if it was not quite the forest some commentators have compared it to, it was still a bit more than open meadow.
The red bricks of the tailor shop soon crowded into the Dutchman's landlocked view, jutting toward the street in a peculiarly lopsided fashion. Quinton van Tassel had been speaking of repairing these for the many years van Clynne had known him. One thing or another had prevented him from letting the contract, but he never failed to mention his resolve to fix the bricks when he spoke with a customer, and today was no exception. Never mind that the two men had not seen each other for several months; the wall and the failing foundation beneath it were the
