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Bugger it, thought Orlando, he s absolutely right. And I
should have spotted that straight away.
So I guessed it might be your Wheatstone grid thingy and
tried a few code words, obvious ones like Johan Breton, and
before you ask I did remove the repeating letters, but it was all to
no avail.
Orlando felt relieved. Much as he desired to get these
wretched codes broken, the thought of Jonty doing it first was
unbearable. So you were as fruitless as we were?
Up to a point. Then I tried Elizabeth as the code word and,
well, you know& Jonty held up the top sheet of paper. It just all
became clear.
Two hands shot out at the same instant to grab the
document, ignoring Jonty s squeak of Don t snatch . Mr. Stewart
and Orlando began to tussle in a rather undignified manner over
who was to read it first.
Would you mind, please? Jonty at last managed to make
himself listened to. I spent ages doing that and if you re going to
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ruin it I ll thump both of you. Worse still, I ll tell Mama. The
fighting came to an instantaneous end. That s better. Now if you
can be sensible, I ll read it to you.
Jonty adjusted his glasses. Tomorrow sees a resolution, one
way or the other. Orlando shivered at the associations this phrase
formed, memories of his lover s time in sick bay. Johan will help
me, certain sure, and then we ll find freedom.
This fits in well with your theory of Shaa committing the
murder. Mr. Stewart nodded vigorously. I ve liked the idea
from the start but we need good hard evidence.
Jonty continued with more of the same references to spies,
Shaa s growing sense of mistrust, unspecified plans for the
morrow. He has serv d his master well. I have seen one of the
letters he endeavoured to send. Stephen fetched it for me.
I wonder if that s Lumley s Stephen? Orlando couldn t get
the chaplain s words from his mind.
I warrant that he hop d his code would hide his deceit; did
he not realise that I make and break codes as other men might a
clay pot? Do you know, said Jonty, I ve never liked Charles
Shaa and the more we delve into this case the more my attitudes
towards him harden.
There followed more about the Woodville Ward s estimates
of his own capabilities. I have the means to make him appear to
be me, presupposing I keep the body from discovery awhile. The
matter of the arm needs attending to. Jonty shivered as he read
this. The thought of that deliberate break gnaws at me. And
there s more. Will Henry come looking for his agent as his lady
will no doubt come and search for me, all tears and turmoil?
The swine! Mr. Stewart felt as much affection for his
patroness as any good Bride s man should. How could he be so
callous?
And by Henry does he mean the king? Was there all along
a House of Tudor slant on this? Orlando s eyes lit up as layer
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Charlie Cochrane
upon layer of this case was peeled away. Is that the end of it,
Jonty?
No, there is just one final part. By the time two nights have
passed, Charles Shaa will appear to have left this earth and Isaac
Gaveson will have taken his place on a ship from Lowestoft.
Well, I m blowed. Orlando sat down with a marked thud.
I was sure it was Stephen down the well and now it looks like
Gaveson was the agent who ended up dispatched.
Richard shook his head. It hardly seems possible. He lifted
up his copies of the remaining few letters yet to be deciphered. I
wonder if these will reveal as much as this other note has?
Jonty grinned. I think it s more than possible. We still don t
know what happened to Stephen, nor where Shaa ended up.
Orlando looked up suddenly. You re right. Not on a ship
with Breton, under the name Gaveson or otherwise, or why would
the man have written from Lowestoft? There s a lot more to this
tale to be discovered.
Helena Stewart, entering the room just in time to hear this
last point, groaned loudly and left again.
The night of the twenty-third of December a blizzard began
with a great fork of blue lightning which rent the sky in two over
the Stewarts country home. It was followed by a crash of thunder
that sounded like a great broadside going off. The whole sky
resembled some sea battle fought at night among fleets of
particular vehemence in line of battle. Hail the size of pennies
smashed down onto the ground, bouncing, leaping like cats on hot
tiles, taking out the odd pane of glass in the hothouses and
cloches. Then the snow came huge flakes like lace curtains
veiling the night, settling so quickly that within minutes it seemed
the place had a carpet of white.
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As the first clap of thunder had shaken the eaves, Orlando
had innately known that he had to find Jonty. There hadn t been a
storm such as this since he d lost his memory and he had no clear
recollection of why he should have to locate his friend, was just
drawn to his room by some instinctive understanding. Jonty sat by
the window; pale, shivering, staring at the flashes in the sky with
unseeing eyes.
Jonty. Orlando s voice was as soft as a cooing dove,
hardly audible above the rumbles. Jonty, it s me, your Orlando.
There was no response, except for Jonty cocking his head to
one side as if he heard a noise but didn t know what had caused it.
Orlando gently came over, took his hands, turned him around and
sat him on the cushions that graced the deep windowsill. Cold air
emanating from the glass fought the warmth the fire was still
giving out, low as it had burned. It was cool to sit there yet not
unpleasant.
What unsettles you so much, Jonty? Orlando had never
asked this question. Even while he had his memory he d assumed
this strange reaction was linked to Jonty s experiences at school
and he d been scared then to reopen old wounds. He didn t have
that knowledge now and was desperate to understand what was
going on. Is it the noise? Were you frightened by a cannon or
something when you were younger?
Jonty shook himself, as if casting off some foul dream; his
eyes began to focus on the present again. I m sorry, Orlando, did
you ask something?
I just wondered why you react to storms. Were you alarmed
as a boy?
No, not that. Not at all. He shivered. Come, I m getting
cold sitting here. He rose, took Orlando s hand. Will you sit on
the bed with me? The fire s warmth will reach us better there and
we can snuggle down in the covers if you want.
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Charlie Cochrane
Orlando nodded, letting himself be led once more, as he had
at the hotel. They were both in silk pyjamas, warm enough to
wear under the thick quilts and blankets that topped the four-
poster beds, but insufficient for the cooling night air. Jonty
offered to stoke up the fire but Orlando preferred the woollen
warmth to hot air. He usually liked to sleep in a cold room, feeling
the air pinch at his nose and ears while the rest of him luxuriated
under the bedcovers. They sat under the topmost eiderdown, close
although not touching each other.
The time has come to enlighten you on one of the least
pleasant aspects of my life. Jonty reached over and took his
friend s hand. When I was at school, just thirteen, I was taken
from my bed by two of the older boys on a stormy night such as
this one.
Orlando nodded. He imagined that what would follow would
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