Since the Thursday, when I had visited the woman living opposite Jack’s old house, I had enjoyed little success in my search for Jack Blackjack. I proceeded along those thoroughfares which I was aware he frequented, even travelling down the stews in the noisome district of the Bishop of Winchester where the whores congregated, but all was to no avail.
It eventually became obvious that the fellow was concealing himself deliberately. I knew full well that when Jack decided to take advantage of his own nondescript appearance, he could all but evaporate and disappear as quickly as morning mist over the Thames. Thus it was that I resorted to placing certain watchers over both his houses, and returned to my own home and paperwork.
It was not until the Saturday that I began to wonder whether there might be more to the matter. Accordingly, I set my papers aside and exercised my intellect to consider the facts.
First, I had heard of the flight of de Vere, and I suspected that there would soon be news of his complicity in a plot against the Crown. Meanwhile, the Dutchman renting Jack’s house had disappeared: this could be the result of a mere waylaying, his own realization of the danger into which he had fallen by supplying weapons to de Vere, leading to his own flight, or it could be that there was some aspect of matters which he had discovered which related to the third issue: the maid of Loughgren’s. It was at least certain in her case that she had been murdered.
I reflected on these matters all day, and it was Sunday morning, as I awoke, that I decided to take action.
First, I made my way to Jack’s houses. Cutpurse had been installed at the first, in a doorway from where he had a good view of both Jack’s old property and the door of Saul and Susan Appleby’s home. Sam Cutpurse could tell me that Jack had not appeared. The only man to visit the house was a merchant-looking type, who had knocked on the door the day before, and spoken hurriedly with the ragged bottler in the doorway. He had tried to get closer to listen to their conversation, but the language was unknown to him. From that I deduced that the two were, like Peter, Hollanders.
My mind turned to Lewan de Beaulieu. There were not so very many Dutch in London, and from Cutpurse’s description, it could well have been him. What would he have wanted with the house from where Jack’s tenant had disappeared?
It also led me to wondering about the other man who was involved with de Beaulieu: Loughgren. All appeared to me as enmeshed circles, like a good chain, in which the various links represented the people. There was Loughgren and de Beaulieu; there was de Vere and Geoffrey Vanderstilt. But then there was Peter, who was somehow connected, so it appeared, with de Beaulieu, while Alice was maid to Loughgren. And about all these six was Jack, who was somehow tilting at them all, while denying any responsibility.
All this was in my mind as I walked to his new house, where I enquired about movements, and to my surprise, I learned that Jack had been there, and had only recently departed. It was enough to make me curse, but as my intelligencer pointed out, he had sent an urchin to fetch me when he saw Jack, and it was hardly his fault if I was not at home when the boy arrived.
Bitter, I left him with instructions to fetch me as soon as Jack was to appear again, and on a whim I strode up to Loughgren’s house. It was already past noon, and my stomach was rumbling, which only served to add to my already failing temper.
It was plain enough that the family was attending Mass. A maidservant opened the door to me, a scared little chit who gazed at me with eyes so wide, I feared they must spring free if she were to sneeze.
‘Which church does your master attend?’
She indicated the great block of stone with a spire reaching to the sky, and I made my way there, standing outside it with the chains of people still rattling through my brain.
I soon saw Loughgren up at the front, and I stood in the doorway as the service was conducted, watching the congregants make their way to the altar rail, take the crumb of bread and sip of wine, and thence return to their pews.
Loughgren did not rise immediately as the service ended, but sat thoughtfully in his pew, boxed in from the others all about. He had a pleasant seat nearest the altar, surely a proof of his wealth, and his family sat with him, while two henchmen occupied stools at either end of the pew.
Eventually, when the majority of the congregation had left, he deigned to rise. The nearer servant opened the door to the pew for him, and he stepped out, closely followed by his wife, two sons of some fifteen and seventeen summers, and a daughter. He led the way to me, where I stood by the door.
His eyes met mine, and I saw a flicker of resentment as I stepped forward. ‘Master Loughgren? May I speak with you for a moment?’
‘I do not conduct business on a Sunday,’ he said firmly.
‘I am not here to discuss trade,’ I said.
There was steel in my voice, I gauge, because he gave me a disdainful glance, but then nodded. He sent his family on their way with one henchman, but retained the other.
‘Well? Is this about Alice again? I am sorry she is gone, but why the interest in my maid?’
‘I have the pleasure of working with the queen’s officials in some matters,’ I said. ‘I understand you lost your maid only a short while after taking delivery of weapons from Master Lewan de Beaulieu.’
‘Yes, that is true. It was a sorry loss,’ he said. ‘She was a good worker, and a personable young woman. I hope the queen’s officers will soon find the man responsible.’
‘These weapons: it would seem a large consignment that you have been collecting,’ I said, and watched him closely.
‘What of it?’ he said coolly. There was no indication that he found the question alarming.
‘There are some who might wonder why a man in your position would require so many?’
‘That is easy. Some few are for the defence of my properties here in the city. This is not a safe place for a man, any more than it was for poor Alice. Then again, I am a merchant, and I achieved a good price based on purchasing a larger quantity than I need. I intend to sell the rest to others who are concerned about their security. You should consider some for your own protection.’
‘Why should I need protecting, I wonder?’ I said. This sounded very much like a threat.
‘At times of danger, all may consider that self-preservation is of concern. There are many footpads in a city like London.’
‘You know of many such attacks?’
He gave a sneer. ‘I have heard that many asking too many questions can find themselves at risk. Especially near the docks.’
It was tempting to punch him in the face. The man who tried to waylay me had said a man called ‘Luffrin’, or something similar, had ordered the two men to attack me. ‘How well do you know Lewan de Beaulieu?’ I asked after a moment.
‘Why should I help you?’
‘I am working with the authority of the Crown,’ I said sharply. It was not strictly true, but he was not to know that. In any case, it worked.
He chewed at his lips for a while, glaring at me, and then reluctantly said, ‘He is a well-respected merchant. I have worked with him several times on similar trades.’
‘Another merchant in the city has gone missing – had you heard? A fellow named Vanderstilt. He too was importing weapons.’
‘For whom?’
‘Sir Edmund de Vere. He had planned to use them against the queen, but his plans have been sent awry.’
‘Have they, indeed? That will be reassuring to many,’ he said. He sucked at his teeth for a moment. ‘If you know of Sir Edmund, there is a little information you may not be aware of: this Vanderstilt was planning two further, larger shipments to Sir Edmund and his confederates. I believe this might have precipitated unfortunate consequences for the queen and others.’
‘Naturally you told the queen’s officers about this.’
He smiled cynically. ‘I informed those I considered most able to thwart de Vere’s plans. Sir Thomas Parry and others in positions of authority.’
That was when I found myself paying close attention. ‘Sir Thomas, you say?’
‘Aye.’