The place was called Daughters Coffee House and was only a few blocks from St. Paul’s. The ground floor of the building held a bookstore. The coffee house itself was up a rickety set of steps on the second floor. When they entered, Abbott beheld a large room crowded with perhaps two dozen men sitting at long, wooden tables, some intent on conversation, some reading newspapers and almost all drinking what he assumed to be coffee from a large, tapered mug. A few were smoking long-stemmed pipes, leaving the room redolent with the aroma of pipe tobacco.
Abbott felt drawn to sit down amidst them and discuss the events of the day, as if he were an ordinary Englishman. But he couldn’t, of course.
Shortly after they entered, a grizzled man with a head of grey hair, who looked to be in his sixties, approached them. He glanced quickly at Abbott, started slightly—Abbott assumed he’d been recognized—and said to Laden, “I think I have a place for you gentlemen that you will find amendable to your needs.”
“Thank you, Mr. Collins.”
They followed Collins to a back corner, where a carved wooden door led into a small, square room with four upholstered, high-backed chairs set around a low, round table. Once they were seated, Collins said, “If you desire coffee, we have a new shipment, just arrived, of special Arabian.”
“I like the sound of that,” Laden said.
“I do, as well,” Abbott added.
“Good. I will bring you each a mug. May I also suggest some chocolate?”
“Yes!” Laden said. “I have a craving that needs to be satisfied.”
“I will fetch that, as well. In the meantime, I will leave you gentlemen to your privacy.”
After the door had closed, Abbott said, “Are you confident Mr. Collins will not report my presence here to government spies? I have begun to notice articles appearing about me in the newspapers, and I believe I have been followed on at least one occasion and possibly recognized when we came in here.”
“I have seen those articles. Even one describing your, ah, usual mode of dress and making reference to the fact that you stick out in the crowd above most other men. But not only will Collins not report you, he takes care to exclude from his establishment those who would.”
“He has an interest in our Revolution, then?”
“No, his interest is in complete independence for Ireland, but he sees the two as linked.”
“Isn’t it sedition to talk favourably about either?”
“The line between talk and sedition is a thin one. Right now, so long as you don’t try to gather people about you who try to do something about independence, or get up on a box and proclaim your ideas to a crowd, and so long as you take no action, the government will let you sit at a table here and discuss it until you are hoarse.”
“If questioned, I will say we did nothing more than discuss our mutual annoyance with the government,” Abbott said.
Laden smiled and said, “Ambassador, before we get down to discussing all of that, let me first ask you, do you think you were followed to St. Paul’s?”
“Perhaps initially, but I took precautions after that, so I think not in the end. And I wore less, ah, flamboyant clothes than usual, so I more easily disappeared into the crowd on London Bridge today. Although I can’t do anything about my height.”
Just then there was a knock on the door. Collins came in carrying a tray that held steaming mugs of coffee and two pitchers of warm chocolate. He set them all down on the table and asked if they needed anything else. They said no, thanked him, and he left.
“Now that the preliminaries are out of the way, what can I do for you, Ambassador?”
“General Washington is spied on inside the Tower, day and night. And reported on to the authorities. I would like to place someone I can trust within the Tower who can tell me what is being reported about the General and, specifically, to whom. And who goes there to try to see him. If that is possible.”
“I see.”
“Do you have a friend of America you could somehow place there?”
Laden paused and said nothing for many seconds. Abbott waited, understanding that Laden was trying to decide how much to say.
Laden poured chocolate into his coffee, took a sip and said, “Ouch! Too hot, scalding really.” He put the cup back down. “We already have someone in the Tower who can do what you wish.”
“I don’t need to know the person’s name.”
“I would prefer you do know it, so we don’t all step on one another’s toes. Her name is Mrs. Crankshaw. She serves coffee, cleans the cells and the like. She already reports to me what the General says and to whom. And who comes and goes.”
“Is she able to tell you who in the Tower is reporting to the government?”
Laden laughed. “Yes. She herself is doing the reporting.”
Abbott raised his eyebrows. “She is a double spy?”
“Precisely.”
“Why is she willing to risk such a thing? They will hang her if they find out.”
“Her only son was in the British Army. He was killed in America.”
“Isn’t she very pro-British, then?”
“They think so, which is why they trust her. But in fact she believes the war is being fought for foolish reasons by foolish men. She thinks her son gave his life for no reason.”
“Ah, I see.”
“There is more. She is angry his body was not shipped home to her. She didn’t realize that they do that only for officers.”
“But the smell?”
“They store the bodies in rum aboard ship.”
Abbott wrinkled his nose.
“Is there anything else you might need, Ambassador?”
“There is one more thing.”
“Which is?”
“The crowds outside the Tower are hostile to General Washington. For example, they throw fruit and vegetables, and sometimes eggs, at him when he walks upon the parade.”
“There is no way to prevent that.”
“But there is perhaps a way to cause others, more friendly to him, to appear, too. If there is a trial, they will be needed in the streets. Or even before that, as an indication of popular support for our independence.”
“Do you expect a trial very soon?”
“I expect an indictment soon. But a trial? No.”
Laden raised the coffee to his lips again, blew on it to cool it a bit, waited a few seconds and drank some. Finally, he spoke. “Now you are asking that I engage in sedition. The government does not like crowds who gather for political purposes. Were I to arrange it, they might well come after me. It is not as if I am unknown to the authorities.”
“You can’t do it?”
“I didn’t say that. Let us leave the topic for now and return to it another time. If the trial is far away, we have some time.”
“All right.”
“Drink your coffee. It’s amongst the best in London and it should finally be cool enough it won’t burn your mouth.”
“At least it’s not tea, although truth be told, I miss it.”
Laden laughed. “If you come here and order tea, no one will tell the Continental Congress.” A broad smile cracked his face.
“Speaking of Congress, Mr. Laden, I feel quite cut off here in London from news of what is happening at home.”
“You are not accustomed to the weeks and weeks that must go by before news from America arrives?”
“No. Even when I was in Saratoga, which is hundreds of miles from Philadelphia, it was at most ten days before I got news from home.”
“There is no ocean to cross in America, Ambassador.”
“Of course. But I would like to know whether you receive information about events in America that is somehow more current or more detailed than what I can find in a newspaper or learn from someone in the government.”
“No, alas, I do not. But in recent years our newspapers—we are in the midst of a veritable explosion of new newspapers—have become very adept at ferreting out what is happening in the government, and the government knows better than anyone else what is going on in America.” Laden pointed to a table set against the far wall, which held a stack of perhaps ten newspapers.
Abbott walked over and rifled through them while Laden waited. “I can see that there are many articles about the war,” Abbott said. “And I take you at your word, that these papers have good information from the government. But it would not be as good as what the Americans themselves know.” He walked back to the table, sat down and added, “Nor as good a source as those the Americans might consult about their plans.”
“Ambassador, if you are suggesting that Mr. Thompson or others might forward secret information to me or advance plans for operations, they do not. Nor could they without great risk.”
“Of course.” Abbott paused. “Well, I already buy one or two newspapers every day and I will continue to do so, of course.”
“Which papers do you read?”
“It varies.”
“My advice would be to read at least four each day.”
“Any four?”
“No, I would advise you to read the Public Advertiser, the Evening Post, the Morning Post and the Daily Advertiser. The first two are anti-North, Whig-leaning papers. They are opposed to the government and the war, although that doesn’t necessarily mean they are in favour of independence. The latter two might just as well be published by the government itself, like the London Gazette, which is in fact the government’s official paper.”
“I will endeavour to obtain them.”
“One word of warning, Ambassador.”
“What might that be?”
“Don’t believe everything they say. Their main goal is to sell newspapers.”