his king, but he was seeing fifty feet of rotten pier and the sun shining down upon a green pasture across the river in Breuckelen. “Have you ever looked into a blacksmith’s forge?”
“I have. Once I had a sty on my right eye, and you know the heat is good for bursting them. If you stare into the forge long around, you feel the sty…” He stopped. “What’s a blacksmith’s forge have to do with wildflowers?”
“Those are the colors,” Matthew said. “The heart of the earth.”
“The what?” Effrem’s brows came together. “I think you may have had one cider too many.”
A slim brown box about ten inches long and wrapped with white ribbon was suddenly placed on the table in front of Matthew.
Fifty-One
Startled, Matthew looked up into a craggy face with a formidable nose, deep-set eyes dark as tarpits, and the left charcoal-gray eyebrow sliced by a jagged scar.
“Good evening, Mr. Greathouse,” said Effrem. “Would you care to join us?”
“No, thank you, Mr. Owles. I’m just passing through. As I know your haunts by now, Matthew, I figured I’d find you”-he gave the chessboard a disdainful glance-“doing whatever it is you do in here. I wanted to bring that to you.” He nodded toward the box.
Matthew picked it up and shook it, making something shift within. “What is it?”
“A gift from Mrs. Herrald. She bought it for you before she left. Asked me to hold on to it until that situation with the lady was over. Mrs. Swanscott, I mean. I suppose I wanted to wait until I saw how you did on your second problem.”
Matthew nodded. He had no idea what was in the box, but as for Matthew’s second problem, he’d just solved the mystery of the Eternal Maidens Club and their coconut pies. It seemed that the Eternal Maidens had put their money together to buy a very expensive “pharaoh’s nut,” a coconut, and the best cook of the club-Granny Farkason-had baked two pies from it. The pies had been put on a windowsill to cool and lo and behold they vanished. A neighbor known to eat her weight in biscuits was accused. Matthew had traced crumbs and clues to a travelling troubadour who had made camp in the shadow of the windmill on Wind Mill Lane and whose trained monkey, unbeknownst to him, had learned to slip his chain and go galavanting about town while his owner slept. The monkey had already disposed of one of the purloined items and had hidden an uneaten portion of the second in a hollow log. A gratis performance for the Maidens was arranged, including a great deal of flirting from the handsome troubadour that made several of the elderly maidens rethink their obligations to the club, and things ended as happily as possible when money, a monkey, and two coconut pies are involved.
Not much of a problem, but it beat what Greathouse was working on: a more mundane thing in which he was tasked to follow the wife of a wealthy shipyard owner who suspected a young lover in the shadows. But it was work and money, and Greathouse told Matthew that as the word got out about the agency the solving of problems would become more numerous and hopefully more interesting.
“May I open this?” Matthew asked.
“You might, but I think Mrs. Herrald intended you to open it in private.”
“I see.” He didn’t, but it was the polite thing to say.
“There you go,” Greathouse said with a scowl. “Saying the polite thing.”
“I’ll open this when I get home, then.”
“And I’d suggest a good night’s sleep.” He glanced around the Trot, which was definitely too tame for his wild streak. “Regardless of whatever enjoyment you get out of this tomb.” He started out, stopped, and came back to their table. “Oh…Matthew. I don’t give compliments lightly, but I might wish to say you did the agency very proud in that business with Mrs. Swanscott. I still think it was a headstrong risk, but-hey-you showed me up.”
“It was not my intention to show you up.”
“As you please. I might wish also to say that the business with the Masker and Simon Chapel was recounted to its full extent in the letter I’ve just sent off to Katherine, and I can tell you she will discuss the matter with her associates and the legal officials both in England and in Europe forthwith. Your name shall gain a boatload of fame.” He grinned. “How do you like my formal language? You have to know that junk when you’re writing a letter.”
“It doesn’t suit you.”
“I don’t think so, either. That’s why from now on I’ll leave all the letter-writing up to you. Unless we feel the need to hire a clerk, which presently we don’t.” Greathouse paused but did not remove himself, and Matthew knew more was coming. “There’s a good and a bad to your name being known,” he said, more seriously. “If you haven’t already come to the attention of a certain person, you will.”
“I’ve thought of that possibility.”
“Just so you’re aware.”
“I plan to be,” Matthew answered. “Aware.”
“Good. Oh…we’re going to start training in hand-to-hand combat soon. End of the week, probably.”
“All right.” The brightness of his interest was not exactly solar. He’d certainly needed to know hand-to-hand combat, battling that monkey there in the high grass. Then again, he thought of a pair of wine-red curtains in a goldfish pond. “The sooner the better.”
“You might want to stop by the apothecary and get some liniment,” Greathouse suggested. “For sore muscles and such. And while you’re at it…get enough for me, too. Goodnight, gentlemen,” he said, and then to Matthew from across the Trot, “Don’t let that candle burn too late, moon-” He stopped himself short. “Mr. Corbett.”
Then he was out the door and gone.
Matthew picked up the mysterious box and got to his feet. He promised Effrem that when the time was right he would put in a good word for him with Berry, and then with a last hard look at that triangular king-trap he set off for home.
It was a beautiful night. A million stars were showing and a cool breeze that promised autumn blew from the sea. Fiddle music and laughter could be heard from another nearby tavern, and many other citizens were out on their way to somewhere. As Matthew walked east along Crown Street and crossed the intersection of Smith, he saw to his right the green glow of a constable’s lantern moving south, and a second green lamp coming north. All along Smith Street, on each corner, stood a wooden post with a lantern attached. The project of putting up lamp- posts on all street corners in town was not yet completed, but every small candle helped to illuminate the larger dark.
In another moment he looked up at a sign on the left-hand side of the street and saw there the newly painted announcement Crown Street Coffee Shoppe. The shop was dark, but Robert Deverick hoped to have it open within the month and serving customers until the late hours. He had defied his mother, which must have taken the courage of Perseus, in making his decision to remain in New York. As Matthew understood, Robert had decided his education must be good for something, so he’d elected to go into the coffee-importing business as a silent partner with a young man, newly arrived from London, who had some fanciful ideas about…of all things…the use of flavored cream in coffee. Matthew wished Robert well and hoped to sometime partake of what would certainly be a novel beverage.
Matthew continued toward the harbor. As he turned right en route to his home, he saw by the light from the lamp on Crown Street’s corner that approaching him with a brisk stride was none other than the tall figure of Polly Blossom. She wore a full-skirted gown, puffed by petticoats, a feathered hat and white gloves with rings on the fingers. Her face was lowered, her broad shoulders slightly stooped as if in contemplation of her role in the salvation of a reverend.
Matthew neared her and said, “Good evening, madam,” with a quick nod as he passed, and too late he saw the curls of the long white wig and the horsey face beneath it.
“Good evening, sir,” replied Lord Cornbury, as the sharp clack-clack of high French heels on solid English stones took New York’s governor away on his nightly constitutional.
It was all Matthew could do not to say Nice shoes but he did manage to resist.
With a few more steps he paused along the harbor street, drew in a long draught of night air, and looked at the houses, the shops, the taverns, and the sparkling lamplights before him.
