Ruskins, you spoke English. Have you ever known the motto of a social fraternity to be in English? Tell me, did you make that motto up on the spot?'
Johnstone began to laugh. The laughter, however, was strained through his tightly clenched teeth, and therefore was less merry than murderous.
'This woman who was purported to be your wife, ' Matthew said. 'Who was she? Some insane wretch from Charles Town? No, no, you would have had to find someone you at least imagined you could control. Was she then a doxy, to whom you could promise future wealth for her cooperation?'
The laughter faded and went away, but Johnstone continued to grin. His face, the flesh drawn over the bones and the eyeholes dwindled to burns, had taken on the appearance of a truly demonic mask.
'I presume you made quick work of the woman, as soon as you'd left sight of Charles Town, ' Matthew ventured. 'Did she believe you were returning her to the dove roost?'
Johnstone suddenly turned and began to limp toward the door, proving that his kneebrace enforced the fiction of his deformity.
'Mr. Green?' Matthew called, in a casual tone. The doorway was presently blocked by the red-bearded giant, who also held at his side a pistol. 'That weapon has been prepared for firing, sir, ' Matthew said. 'I don't for an instant doubt your ability to inflict deadly violence, therefore the necessary precaution against it. Would you please come back to your chair?'
Johnstone didn't respond. Green said, 'I 'spect you'd best do as Mr. Corbett asks.' The air had whistled through the space a front tooth used to occupy.
'Very well, then!' Johnstone turned toward his tormentor with a theatrical flourish, the death's-head grin at full force. 'I shall be glad to sit down and listen to these mad ravings, as I find myself currently imprisoned! You know, you're all bewitched! Every one of you!' He stalked back to the chairs, taking a position not unlike center stage. 'God help our minds, to withstand such demonic power! Don't you see it?' He pointed at Matthew, who was gratified to see that the hand trembled. 'This boy is in league with the blackest evil to ever crawl from a pit! God help us, in its presence!' Now Johnstone held his hand palm-upward, in a gesture of supplication. 'I throw myself before your common sense, sirs! Before your decency and love of fellow man! God knows these are the first things any demon would try to destr—'
Smack! went a book down onto Johnstone's offered palm. Johnstone staggered, and stared at the volume of English plays that Matthew had devoured, and that Mrs. Nettles had returned to the nearby bookcase.
'Poor Tom Foolery, I believe, ' Matthew said. 'I think on page one-seventeen or thereabouts is a similar speech, in case you wish to be more exact.'
Something moved across Johnstone's face in that instant, as he met Matthew's gaze. Something vulpine, and mean as sin. It was as if for a fleeting space of time the animal had been dragged from its den and made to show itself; then the instant passed, and the glimpse was gone. Johnstone's countenance had formed again into stone. Disdainfully, he turned his hand over and let the book fall to the floor.
'Sit down, ' Matthew said firmly, as Mr. Green guarded the doorway. Slowly, with as much dignity as he could cloak himself, Johnstone returned to his chair.
Matthew went to the fanciful map of Fount Royal that hung on the wall behind him. He tapped the spring with his forefinger. 'This, gentleman, is the reason for such deception. At some time in the past—several years, I believe, before Mr. Bidwell sent a land scout to find him suitable property—this spring was used as a vault for pirate treasure. I don't mean just Spanish gold and silver coins, either. I mean jewels, silverware, plates... whatever this pirate and his crew managed to take. As the spring was likely used by this individual as a source of fresh water, he decided to employ it for a different purpose. Mr. Johnstone, do you know this individual's name?' No response. 'Well, I'm assuming he was English, since he seemed to prefer attacking Spanish merchant ships. Probably he attacked a few Spanish pirates who were themselves laden with treasure. In any case, he built up a wondrous fortune... but of course, he was always in fear of being attacked himself, therefore he needed a secure hiding-place for his loot. Please correct me, Mr. Johnstone, if I am mistaken at any of these conjectures.'
Johnstone might have burned the very air between them with his stare.
'Oh, I should tell you, sir, ' Matthew said, 'that the vast majority of the fortune you schemed to possess is now lost. In my investigation of the pond, I found an opening to an underground flow. A small opening but, regretfully for you, an efficient one as to the movement of water. Over a period of time, most of the loot went down the hole. I don't doubt that there are a few items of value remaining—some coins or pieces of pottery—but the vault has been emptied by the one who truly owns it: Mother Nature.'
He saw now a flinch of true pain on Johnstone's face, as this nerve was so deeply struck. 'I suspect you found some items when you posed as the surveyor, and those financed your schoolmaster's suits. A wagon and horses, too? And clothes for your cardboard wife? Then I presume you also had items to finance your passage back to and from England, and to be able to show Lancaster what was awaiting him. Did you also show him the blade that was awaiting his throat?'
'My God!' Dr. Shields said, aghast. 'I... always thought Alan came from a wealthy family! I saw a gold ring he owned... with a ruby in it! And a gold pocket watch he had, inscribed with his initials!'
'Really? I'd say the ring was something he'd found. Perhaps he purchased the pocket watch in Charles Town before he came here, and had those initials inscribed to further advance his false identity.' Matthew's eyebrows lifted. 'Or was it a watch you had previously murdered someone to get, and those initials prompted your choice of a name?'
'You, ' Johnstone said, his mouth twisting, 'are absolutely a fool.'
'I have been called so, sir, but never let it be said that I am fooled. At least not for very long. But you are a smart man, sir. I swear you are. If I were to ask Mr. Green to sit in your lap, and take Mr. Bidwell and Mr. Winston for a thorough search of your house, would we find a sapphire brooch there? A book on ancient Egypt? Would we find the ratcatcher's five-bladed device? You know, that was a crowning move! The claw marks! A deception only a talented thespian could construct! And to create a ratcatcher out of John Lancaster... well, it was an inspiration. Did you know that he had experience with training rats? Had you seen his circus act? You knew Fount Royal was in need of a ratcatcher... therefore, instant acceptance by the town. Was it you or Lancaster who created the poppets? Those, too, were very convincing. Just rough-edged enough to appeal real.'
'I shall... lose my mind, listening to you, ' Johnstone said. He blinked slowly. 'Lose my mind... altogether.'
'You decided Rachel was perfect witch material. You knew, as everyone knows, what occurred at Salem. But you, with your sterling abilities to manipulate an audience, realized how such mass fear might be scripted, act upon act. The only problem is that you, sir, are a man who has the command of a crowd's mind, yet you needed a man with the command of the individual mind. The point being to seed this terror in Fount Royal by using selected persons, and thus to ruin the town and cause it to be abandoned. After which you—and Lancaster, or so he believed—might remove the riches.'
Johnstone lifted a hand and touched his forehead. He rocked slightly back and forth in his chair.
'As to the murder of Daniel Howarth, ' Matthew said, 'I suspect you lured him out of the house that night to a prearranged meeting? Something he would not have mentioned to Rachel? She told me that the night of his murder he asked her if she loved him. She said it was rare for him to be so... well... needful. He already had fears that Nicholas Paine was interested in Rachel. Did you fan those flames, by intimating that Rachel might also have feelings for Paine? Did you promise to meet him in a private place, to exchange information that should not be overheard? Of course he wouldn't have known what you were planning. I'm sure your power of persuasion might have directed Daniel to any place you chose, at any time. Who cut his throat, then? You or Lancaster?'
When Johnstone didn't answer, Matthew said, 'You, I think. I presume you then applied the five-bladed device to Daniel's dead or dying body? I'm sure Lancaster never would have imagined he'd meet his end the same way. He panicked when he learned he'd been discovered, didn't he? Did he want to leave?' Matthew smiled grimly. 'But no, you couldn't have that, could you? You couldn't let him leave, knowing what he knew. Had you always planned to murder him, after he'd helped you remove the treasure and Fount Royal was your own private fortress?'
'Damn you, ' Bidwell said to Johnstone, his face reddening. 'Damn your eyes, and heart, and soul. Damn you to a slow death, as you would have made me a murderer too!'
'Calm yourself, ' Matthew advised. 'He shall be damned, as I understand the colonial prison is one step above a hellhole and dungheap. Which is where he shall spend some days before he hangs, if I have anything to do
