'I think I made myself clear?' Stanhope frowned.
'Yes, my lord, but—'
'There is no hope, either at law or in the machinations of politics — no one would be fool enough to put himself forward in the cause of a mutinous seaman at these times, no one.'
'I understand, my lord,' Renzi said quietly. He paused, then continued softly, 'Sir, the man is Thomas Kydd, whom you remember perhaps from the Caribbean.'
Stanhope looked up sharply. 'You may believe I am grieved to hear it.'
'He has taken the plight of his seamen brothers to heart. My lord, he has the ardour of youth compelling him to rash acts, but still has the love of his country foremost.'
Staring into the fire, Stanhope said nothing.
'His would be a great loss to the sea profession, but a greater one to myself.'
Still no response. Then a stirring. 'Mr Renzi,' Stanhope said, his voice sad and gentle, 'there is nothing I crave more than to be of service to this young man, nothing. But my eminence is as nothing compared to the forces he has caused to be raised against him. I am in truth powerless.'
Renzi felt hope die. This was the end for his friend. He looked at the floor through misted eyes.
There was a discreet cough. 'I said that there was nothing I could do. This is certain. But if the Admiralty found that they had good reason to spare him, even to pardon his crimes . . .'
'My lord, Kydd could never find it in him to inform on, to delate upon his shipmates. This is an impossible course.' Renzi's head dropped again.
'Then there is one final action that may answer.' 'My lord?'
'You will forgive the elliptical speech — my conscience is a hard master, as I know is yours.' He considered carefully. 'I can conceive of a circumstance that would have the same effect, result in the same happy conclusion. This will require an act of - of imagination by one devoted to the subject's well-being, yet at the same time be kept from his knowledge at all costs. Renzi, I am speaking of—'
'I conceive I penetrate your meaning, my lord. Am I to understand you mean this, er, associate to establish a proxy connection to—'
'Precisely.'
It was a chance; it was also uncertain and dangerous, but it was a chance — if he had the will and necessary guile.
In the stillness steps could be heard coming up the stairs.
An austere man in grey entered with books for the reading desk. 'Frederick, dear fellow!'
'Ah, the country burns and you are at your Grecian odes, William. Might I present Mr Renzi, visiting London. Renzi, this is Baron Grenville, Mr Pitt's Foreign Minister.'
'My lord.' Renzi managed an elegant leg, noticing Grenville's polite curiosity. He guessed that few of Stanhope's mysterious acquaintances would merit an introduction.
'I understand you have further business, Renzi, I won't detain you.'
* * *
The coach left from the Blue Boar's Head at two; he had time. At the Fleet market at Holbourn he found a well-used and capacious periwig, and an old-fashioned lace-edged frock coat of the kind more likely to be seen on supercargoes in an East Indiaman; these he bundled into a bag with a pair of pattens — clogs to raise the shoes clear of mud.
A spectacle shop on Cheapside provided an old silver pair of smoked glasses, like those needed by persons with weak eyes. A heavy ^woc-silver-headed cane and a large body-purse completed his outfitting.
