A Seditious Affair(87)

Ash’s mouth dropped open. Norreys caught him by the arm as he moved, and said, “I don’t like your implication, sir. Richard, I trust you intend to make this fellow answer for his insolence.”

“There’s another answer needed first,” Skelton said, voice hard. That was how he worked, coming in with attack after attack, keeping you off balance, making it hard to juggle the lies. “Mason knew of a conspiracy to murder the British cabinet, his majesty’s lawful government. He knew, yet he didn’t report it.” He swung around, pointing a finger in Silas’s face. “Why not?”

“He did,” said Lord Richard. His face was tight. “To me.”

“And what did you do with that information, my lord?”

“There’s a question,” said Dominic.

Silas jumped, along with everyone else. He hadn’t heard the door open, but there Dominic was, closing the door behind him. He glanced around the room, dark eyes skimming over Silas as though he were nothing.

“Good evening, Dominic,” Lord Richard said. “Your colleague is choosing to imply that Ash and I are liars.”

“About?”

“We’ve assured him that Mason was here yesterday evening, rather than committing treason on Cato Street. Apparently he thinks that we are both happy to perjure ourselves for the sake of a radical democrat.”

“And are you?”

Lord Richard’s brows rose. “I beg your pardon?”

“You think Lords Richard and Gabriel are lying to you, Mr. Skelton,” Dominic said, ignoring that. His voice was pleasant and calm. It brought up the hairs on Silas’s arms.

“I believe their lordships must be mistaken, Mr. Frey,” Skelton said. “We know Mason’s movements. We have an excellent witness.”

“Indeed you do. I’ve been looking into the matter today. I have not left the office till just now in fact, so much have I learned. And I am, frankly, appalled.”

“It is a shocking business,” Skelton agreed. There was something avid in his voice. He scented success, Silas thought, through the coldness that was gripping him at Dominic’s remote expression.

“A plot against the British government. An officer of the law dead because of it. One can feel nothing but disgust at the idea that anyone involved in this shameful business should be protected.” Dominic glanced around the room. Lord Richard, Ash, and Norreys were very still, watching him. He did not look at Silas. “Any man who aimed to commit murder, or was party to the officer Smithers’s death, or who attempts to shield the criminals involved from justice, ought to be punished with the utmost severity.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Frey.” Skelton’s smile widened.

“Good,” said Dominic. “Where’s the warrant for George Edwards?”

“I—I beg your pardon?”

“George Edwards.” Dominic took a pace forward. “George Edwards, who attended the meetings of the Spenceans, who informed them of the cabinet dinner and proposed the plot. Why is his name not chief on the list of those still wanted for these crimes?” Another step, closer to Skelton. “George Edwards is your witness placing Mason in Cato Street. He led Ruthven here to Thistlewood’s hiding place this morning and is to receive a reward of a thousand pounds for it. George Edwards was in the whole plot up to his neck until the moment it came off, at which point—and most conveniently—he switched sides. Where’s George Edwards, Mr. Skelton?”

“The man has turned king’s evidence,” Skelton said. “You know how these things work, sir.”

“I thought I did,” Dominic said. “Do you recall a conversation we had in October?”

“October?” Skelton repeated. “We don’t all have your memory, sir.”

“You let me know that there would be a raid on Theobald’s Bookshop. You told me you had an informant among the Spencean Philanthropists who had identified Mason as a seditionist writer. You told me his name.” His voice was calm, but his nostrils were flared, little white marks down both sides.

“Oh, that bastard,” Silas said. “The fuckster.”

“There was no cabinet dinner yesterday,” Dominic went on, over him.

“It was called off—” Skelton began.

“It was not planned. I asked. There was no intention for it ever to be held. There was only one notice of it, Mr. Skelton, placed in one single newspaper, and who brought that to the attention of these sordid, futile revolutionaries? Who made this happen?”

“The conspirators murdered an officer!” Skelton snarled.