“No, madam, I haven’t.”
“Founded by my husband. My late husband. In London, in 1685. He was a lawyer of some renown in his younger years, and later gave his aid to many individuals who required it. Legal aid and advice, yes, but the Herrald Agency specializes in…” She gave him the hint of a smile. “As you put it so astutely, the process of discovery.”
“Oh,” Matthew said, though he had no clue what she was talking about.
“We now have two offices in London, one in Edinburgh, one soon to open in Amsterdam, and we plan-I plan- to consider opening an office in New York. We have a dozen agents all with varying specialties in problem solving. Most of them have backgrounds in law enforcement, though several have been recruited from the opposite camp. As cities grow, it seems, so grows our business. Needless to say, I believe New York-as well as Boston and Philadelphia-will soon make the transition from town to city. Therefore I wish to find a central location for-”
“Pardon me, please,” said Matthew, and he leaned forward in his chair with a perplexed expression. “Forgive the interruption, but what exactly do you mean by ‘problem solving’?”
“I shall answer with an example. In April the young son of a very influential banking family misplaced one of his mother’s diamond bracelets by giving it to his fiancee, a rather disreputable Dutch actress. The mother wanted it back, but it seemed that the fiancee had suddenly and completely vanished after the opening night. Furthermore, she was the female companion of a criminal figure whose very name turned the London law hawks into frightened pigeons. So it was brought to us to find and return the bracelet, and also to make certain that our criminal acquaintance-who had known nothing about his companion’s dalliances-did not do to her with an axe what he had done to two previous ladies, because the young son still wished to marry her. The problem was solved, but unfortunately bride and groom had a falling-out over dinner plates for the home and besides, theater season was about to open in the Netherlands.”
“By problems,” Matthew said, “you mean…personal difficulties?”
“Missing documents, forged letters, theft of money or property, questions of sincerity and loyalty as applied to either business or marriage, missing persons, reconstruction of accidents, courier for valuable items or bodyguard for important persons, discovery of any question that might be asked as to the truth or falsity of any given situation. All those, and more.” Mrs. Herrald paused to give him time to take all this in. “In addition,” she continued, “we are often asked by law enforcement officials to explore the more dangerous territory of the professional criminal and the criminal organizations, of which there is no lack and which are likely-given human corruption and the greed for both power and money-to grow beyond all current recognition. I might also point out that the investigation of murder is one of our specialties, and we have a sterling record of success. Do you have any questions?”
Matthew was speechless. He’d had no idea anything such as this existed. It made the thoughts of law school fly out of his head like old, slow geese. “I…well…what do you want with me?”
“Now don’t be thick!” she scolded, but with good nature. “And also don’t be modest. You are highly regarded by Nathaniel Powers, or you wouldn’t be sitting here.”
“But…is this an interview for employment?”
“It’s an interview to determine whether you’re interested or not. Are you?”
“Yes,” Matthew said, almost at once. “Certainly I am. But what exactly would I be doing?”
“Discovery,” said Mrs. Herrald. “Problem solving. Thinking quickly, in dangerous situations. Taking your life in your hands sometimes, to be truthful. Or trusting your life to the hands of someone else. Picking up a question like a…like a chess piece, and determining how it fits in the game. If you’re interested in doing that, in being the first member of the Herrald Agency in America and being paid very well for it, then you will do what I next require of you.”
Matthew listened, but said nothing.
Mrs. Herrald opened the black leather case at her side and brought out a white envelope. “Do you know the DeKonty estate?”
“I do.” It was about eight miles from town along Manhattan Island. Matthew and Magistrate Powers had been there a little over a year ago to attend a party for the town’s legal staff hosted by August DeKonty, who had owned both a stone quarry and one of the largest lumbermills in the colony.
“You’re aware that Mr. DeKonty passed away in March? And that his widow and daughter have moved to Boston?”
“I am.”
“Also are you aware that the new owner of the estate is a Mr. Hudson Greathouse, a business consultant who has just recently taken occupancy?”
“That I didn’t know.”
“He’s a very private individual. You will meet him today, and give him this letter.” She handed it to Matthew. The first thing he did was turn it over and look at the red wax seal embossed with the letter H. “You are not to open it. If the seal is broken, I personally take a sizeable loss of both money and reputation and you may return to your position with Nathaniel Powers.”
“May I ask what’s in it?”
“Amendments to the deed that need a signature. There was some difficulty over the DeKonty landholdings, and this is a clarification procedure. Therefore you will take this letter to Mr. Greathouse, stand by in his presence as he signs it, and bring it back to me by seven o’clock this evening. Oh…here.” She reached into the case and brought out another object, which she gave him without hesitation. “Wind it now. The mantel clock reads twelve minutes before two.”
In Matthew’s hand was a gleaming silver watch. He opened the lid and gazed down upon the beautiful white dial, the black numerals and hands. If the mantel clock was correct-and he was sure the finicky Mr. Vincent wound it by the hour-then the watch was also correct. Still, Matthew took hold of the winding stem and very carefully and slowly turned it several times until the spring gave resistance.
“Can you secure a horse?” Mrs. Herrald asked.
Matthew nodded, still giving all his attention to the silver watch. Had there ever been silver that shone so brightly, or a dial so white, or Roman numerals shaped as if by the etching-pen of an emperor?
“I am here,” she said. “Look at me.”
He did.
“A horse. You can ride?”
“I can, yes madam.” If he couldn’t handle a horse by now, with all the travelling through the colony he and Magistrate Powers had done, then he would have to settle for the most broken-down donkey at Tobias Winekoop’s stable.
“Direct your expenses to my bill here. Now listen to me with care, Matthew: I am offering you this opportunity to show me how reliable you are. There is a financial value to the content of that envelope, though you personally could not benefit from it. Some, however, with the right resources in unfit places might. Any such item carries a risk. Do you understand?” She waited until he’d given a nod. “Bear in mind the serious nature of being a courier. Do not dawdle, do not leave the main road, do not stop to help any damsel or dandy in distress because that is the oldest trick in the book for highway robbers.”
“Robbers?” Matthew felt his heartbeat quicken and his stomach give a lurch. He’d not considered the fact that a deed with a monetary value might attract highwaymen-or highway ladies, as the case might be.
“Do you carry a pistol? A sword?”
“No,” Matthew answered, feeling a little stunned. “I don’t know how to use either one.”
“We’ll have to rectify that, if you succeed this afternoon. Well, it’s probably for the best though. If you’re not an expert with a pistol or sword, you have no business killing yourself by trying to use one. Just be aware of your surroundings and, as I say, don’t stop.”
Matthew realized he must have had a look of terrible distress on his face, because Mrs. Herrald’s voice softened. “I’m a worrier by nature. I see a plot in every plan. Do know that if you’re robbed, it’s only a copy yet it bears an extremely valuable signature and seal from the royal office of land transfers. The original can be recopied, of course, though it would take months to get the signature and seal redone. But don’t throw your life away on my account. Are you ready to go?”
He didn’t reply, for his tongue was not in working order.
Mrs. Herrald said, “If you have misgivings, you may return the envelope. I’ll give you money for dinner and a glass of wine at the tavern of your choice, and we shall write this meeting off as an exercise in verbiage. What do you wish?”
