The Whiskey Rebel

Joan Maycott

January 1792

I’d thought to go alone and might well have done so. It was not that I did not trust the man I was to meet. In this whole affair, he seemed to me among the most honorable, perhaps curiously so. It was not a question of fear but one of power. Would it make me seem more powerful, I wondered, to go alone and thus show him how secure I felt, or to bring a man with me and show him I had more men in my orbit than he had seen? In the end, I chose the latter. The time had not yet come-if it were to come-to let him know how few we were. It hardly mattered, for we had achieved much and would, I believed, achieve all. The smallness of our numbers made us adaptable and agile, but to an outsider it might make us appear weak.

In earlier meetings, he had met Dalton and Richmond, so I brought with me Mr. Skye, who accepted the assignment with solemnity. Now it was dark, and we sat in our hired coach-I’d had Skye hire the plainest one he could find-on the side of a quiet street in an indifferent neighborhood. It was modest, but not poor, and by no means unruly. It was one of those parts of town where men labored hard for their few dollars and held to their homes with pride.

It was not yet nine, the hour of our meeting, and Skye and I sat in the dark. He sat perhaps closer to me than he ought to have, and I could smell the scent of him: leather and tobacco and the sweet hint of whiskey that clung to them all, all the whiskey rebels.

“What are his loyalties?” Skye asked, after a long silence. He spoke quietly, almost a whisper, though I did not think such discretion was necessary. I did not think he believed the question necessary either. He spoke so as to have something to say.

“Right now I think he’s loyal to himself,” I said, “which means as long as we continue to pay him, he will serve us. We have to be careful, however, not to push him too far or make him fear that anything he does will hurt someone he cares about. I suspect no amount of money will make him do harm.”

“No, of course not, else you would not have recruited him. His limitations are why you trust him.”

I laughed. “You are wise.”

“And you are impressive. More impressive than I can say.” I felt him take my hand. “Joan,” he said, “so much has happened-to both of us-and I would never imagine that you could put your grief for Andrew aside. Yet you are alive, a vibrant woman, and I should be a strange sort of man were I not moved by your courage and leadership-and, yes, beauty.”

I resisted the urge to pull my hand away from his. I could not afford to offend him, to make him feel ashamed. I must be honest also and say that his attentions were not without their appeal. Skye was older than I was, but charming and learned and attentive. He never bristled at my leadership. Andrew, for all that I loved him, had regarded me with a mixture of admiration and tolerance. He humored me as much as he admired me. Skye, though it pained me to admit it, understood me in many ways better than my husband ever could have.

Yet I could not imagine giving my heart over to another man. Something had been taken from me when Andrew was murdered, and I did not want my armor pierced. And there was more. I did not know what would come, but I knew I must be unfettered. Those around me had broken all the rules of human decency to bring me low, and I would not be bound by any rules in striking back at them. I would not be deterred, not by loyalty nor affection nor love, from doing what must be done. Most of all, I did not want him because I did not love him the way he loved me, or believed he did. I wanted his friendship and loyalty and affection, but I wanted nothing more.

“You know it cannot be,” I said to him. “You are in my heart, and I am in yours, but that is as far as we may go. There is too much, far too much, that lies before us.”

He removed his hand and said, after a moment of attempting to master himself, “Will revenge bring us happiness?”

I let out a bark of a laugh. “It is too late for happiness. Revenge shan’t bring it. If I am to speak honestly, I do not think it will even bring satisfaction. How can it? Revenge is the emptiest of enterprises, do you not think so? Days and weeks, perhaps years, to plan and execute, and then, once it is over, what have you? It is put together as meticulously as the artist crafts his work, but there is no painting or sculpture or poem to stand as testament to the labor. There is only the sensation, and that sensation must always be hollow.”

“Then why do you do it?” he asked. “Is it only for the money you hope to earn?”

“I should like the money,” I said, “but it cannot motivate me. I do it for the same reason you do-because it is my duty. Having conceived of it, having understood it could be done and that it ought to be done, not doing it would destroy me.”

“Doing it may destroy us as well.”

“Yes, it may. But that sort of destruction I can accept.”

I parted the dusty curtain of the coach and saw him emerging from his little house. A few minutes sooner might have avoided the conversation with Skye, but I suppose it was well to have it done with. I had turned Skye away but not hurt him. That should keep him content for a little while.

Out the window I saw the man approach the equipage with a cold determination, a man in perfect control though full of perhaps violent emotions. His stride was easy enough, however, as though I were there to take him to an appointment he anticipated with pleasure, or at least contentment. He opened the door and folded his large body into the coach. He nodded to me and Skye, and then took a seat across from us. He was a handsome man with good teeth, perfect and easy in his manners. In a new nation of rough men and rugged manners, it seemed ironic that in him I should find so complete a gentleman.

He looked at Skye. “Yet another associate.”

“He is with me,” I said, “but I’ll refrain from introducing him. I prefer to avoid names where I can.”

“I’m sure that is sound.” He waited a moment, then said, “I suppose it was inevitable you would come for me.”

“We do pay you, and quite well,” I said.

“And I do not complain, though I harbored the hope that I might continue to be paid well in exchange for doing nothing.”

“I must say I hoped the same,” I said, “but things are changing.”

He took a deep breath. “What is it you ask of me?”

“I want regular reports,” I said. “I want them sent every day. I want to know what Saunders is up to, what he plans, what he knows, and what he believes he knows.”

He took in a deep breath. “I don’t much like it.”

“You should have thought of that before.”

“Suppose I simply choose to defy you?” he said.

Mr. Skye leaned forward. “That would not be the wisest course.”

I shook my head at the man, vaguely coquettish, vaguely maternal. “It is too late for that, don’t you think? You are a man who believes in the value of keeping his word. Is that not why you are here? Captain Saunders did not keep his word to you. He promised to emancipate you, and yet he has not. He does not deserve your loyalty.”

“No,” said the slave called Leonidas, “he does not deserve it. And yet it is surprisingly hard to let it go.”

“You know who we are,” I said, “and you know what we have promised. Our enemies are his enemies, it is just that he does not know it, and if we deceive him, it is only to prompt him to do as he would choose himself, if he but knew all.”

He nodded. “I’ll do it, but if I think he will come to harm, I will not help you. If that is the case, I shall tell him everything, and then I shall be your enemy.”

“You are more loyal than he deserves, but I think you’ll find that we deserve it as well. When it is all over, you shall see. We will be reconciled.”

Leonidas nodded again. Without another word, he departed from the coach.

Through the curtain I watched him return to the house, for I wished to be sure he did not try to follow us, and Skye watched me watch him. That is, I suppose, why we did not see the man approaching from the other side of the carriage. He opened the door and joined us, taking Leonidas’s seat almost before we knew he was there.

I knew the scent almost before I knew the face, and in an instant I thought how very ironic it was, for to itemize the odors, they were nearly the same as Skye’s-tobacco, whiskey, animal hides. But there was more too. This man stank of old sweat, of clothes infrequently changed, of urine and alley assignations. He carried about him the coppery smell of blood and an indescribable but instantly recognizable scent of menace.

Even in the dark I could make out the wide swath of scar that stretched across his face. “Well, if it ain’t Joan Maycott and John Skye,” Reynolds said. “I hope I ain’t interrupting anything too important or private. I hear talk about you, Skye.”

“How did you find us?” Skye asked. His voice rose in excitement and fear. He had not learned, as I had, to mask his emotions. Give no power, no authority, when it is yours to withhold.

“I’ve been following your lady friend here for some time, trying to figure out what she’s about. It ain’t been easy, and I’ll be honest with you, I still don’t know what you are up to. I couldn’t get close enough to the coach to hear much.”

“So you know of nothing against me,” I said. “Now, I suggest you get out of the coach before I inform Mr. Duer how you’ve treated me. He will not love to hear of this rudeness.”

“Duer?” Reynolds waved a hand in the air. “He’d be through with me if he knew, no doubt about it, but you won’t tell him. I don’t know what you’re about, but I know you don’t want him to know you’re having secret meetings with Saunders’s darky. Things ain’t what they seem, Joan. They ain’t at all. Now, I don’t care much. I admire a pretty and clever woman; my own wife is plenty pretty but not so clever. On the other hand, I don’t much admire Duer. Never have. But he pays me, so you see my difficulty. If only I had some-shall we call it incentive?-to keep me from mentioning what I seen.”

“What sort of incentive?” Skye asked.

“I think a hundred dollars ought to keep my curiosity buried.”

“For a hundred dollars, I’d want your curiosity buried forever.”

“Forever is one-fifty. Bit more. One hundred only gets you a temporary situation.”

I did not like it but had no choice. “Give me a few days to get the money, and I shall pay you the larger sum. I hope, however, you are as good as your word. We can deal with this amicably and financially so long as no one is exceptionally greedy, but if you think this a well you can return to again and again, I cannot answer for your prospects. As it is, I will need to conceal this arrangement from some of my allies, men who are not so willing to seek compromise as I. I conceal it, you understand, for your benefit.”

“I take your meaning,” he said, “and I will call upon you again soon. Good evening, madam; Skye.”

He departed the coach, and I ordered the driver to move on lest we get more visitors. Skye said, “He will not be content. Not for long. There is no forever for a man like Reynolds.”

“No,” I said. “Of course not.”

“Then why did you agree?”

“Because I hope one hundred fifty dollars will buy us at least a little more time. And when he asks for more, we will give him more. If he asks for two hundred or five hundred, we will give it to him, as long as it is likely he will remain quiet.”

“He has too much power over us,” Skye said.

“We have one advantage, however. He does not know we need only a little more time. We have to hope his greed and his belief in his own cleverness give us the time we need.”

It was a new year, and I believed that Duer, Hamilton, and the Bank of the United States had only a few more months left. They did not know it, but the ice beneath them was cracking, and all would soon fall into oblivion.

Duer increasingly found that he did not wish to be without my advice, so he rented for me a set of rooms at a boardinghouse in New York upon the Broad Way. When he was in New York, he wished me there too, though we did not travel together. I was not permitted to visit him at his home or to meet Lady Kitty. Cynics will believe that he and I must have crossed beyond the boundaries of propriety, but it was not the case. It might be that he desired me, perhaps he even believed he loved me-or loved the woman he thought me to be-but he did not seek to break his marriage vows. He did not even hint that he longed for such a thing. I provided him with something else, but even I was never certain what. Perhaps I did not wish to know.

Pearson was but one man among many, more than a dozen that I knew of, whom Duer deceived to ruin, though none of them knew it yet. Some of these men each believed himself to be Duer’s closest friend in the world. Each had no idea that within weeks he would be revealed to be worth nothing, his money sunk into Duer’s colossal dreams. Duer would talk around these things, never addressing them directly. I would listen, and I would assuage his guilt by telling him of his greatness and his ambition, how what Washington was on the battlefield, Duer was on the trading floor. Had Washington won liberty without sacrificing some of his beloved soldiers? Of course not. When men play at grand strategy, I told him, they can weep for the pawns they sacrifice, but they must sacrifice them still.

“Your vision of grandeur is too great for small men,” I told him one day. “In any glorious enterprise, in any historic rise to power, there must be men who suffer for the greater good. If you are to show this country, this world, your vision of what financial greatness can be, are you to stop because some lesser men might get hurt? Perhaps on the surface such a sacrifice might seem noble, but if you are truly willing to turn away from your destiny because it makes you a little uneasy, it is cowardly and selfish-and I know you are not those things.”

He nodded. “You are very wise.”

“And once you have achieved your final victory, you can be generous to those who were hurt because they were foolish enough to lie down where you needed to step.”

“It is true,” he said. “I can make amends later.”

I felt nothing but contempt for him as he planned to help later those he harmed now, but I could also not help but wonder if I was any better than he. After all, was I not willing to let Cynthia Pearson suffer now and help her at some future date?

In the meantime, Duer might have struggled with his feelings of guilt, but he also laughed at men like Pearson, men who were ruined and did not know it. Yet, Duer was ruined too, and he did not know it either. He owned more and more six percent issues, but he had borrowed far more than their value, and he continued to borrow. He borrowed from the banks, and when they would give him no more, he borrowed from the moneylenders. When they would give him no more, he turned to the poor and the desperate.

“It’s really quite marvelous,” he said. “I cannot gain control of the six percents or the banks without ready money, so where is it to come from? Why, now I borrow from little people-tradesmen and shopkeepers and cart men. A few dollars here and there for a promise of absurd interest payments. I shall never make good, but that is no matter. Once I have the banks, there will be no one to hold me to account. They may complain about their interest, but it is of no matter. And I am not a bad man, you know. I shall give them back what they lent me, but no more than that, I think.”

This was too much. It was one thing to cheat speculators, men who knew they must go into trade with their eyes open. If they were too foolish to see for themselves what Duer did, they had no one but themselves to blame. They must be devoured by the beast they hoped to ride. But now for him to turn his sights on the laboring poor, to squeeze their pennies out of them so he could keep his operations afloat? It was too much.

“There must be some alternative,” I said.

“Oh, don’t you worry,” he said. “I have thought it through carefully.”

“When you own the economy, the workingmen and women of the city cannot be hobbled with debt. They will be a drag upon everything.”

“You worry too much, my dear,” he said. “And you are all goodness, which I love. But you must trust me on this. The poor shall not miss their pennies, and there are always more where their first came from. They must work a little harder is all.”

I smiled at him to show him my approbation. At what point, I wondered, does silence become complicity? At what point must the enemy of evil take responsibility for the harm done in the fight against evil? I did not know, and I dared not think of it. I would only think of poor Ethan Saunders, whom I had turned into my puppet. He would act as I wished, never knowing it was I who wished it, and he would make certain that Duer failed.

I t was during this trip to New York that Mr. Pearson himself came to visit us while we sat in the parlor of my boardinghouse. I do not think he knew I was with Duer when he arrived and he seemed surprised, perhaps even disappointed, to see him. In Pearson’s mind, he could trust me entirely, but Duer was always an object of suspicion-as he should have been. Duer, after all, was an untrustworthy man.

I think my landlady must not have told Pearson I had company, for he strode into the room manfully, but on seeing Duer begin to rise his body slackened. If I had not been watching him closely, measuring any sign of disposition-for it was now how I watched everyone-I might not have seen it, but there it was. The corners of his mouth twisted, his shoulders drooped, his arms dropped slightly, and he bent just a little at the knees.

He and Duer greeted one another-Pearson’s enormous hand circling Duer’s tiny one-but his eyes were upon me. There was something pleading there, but I could not tell what he wished from me. At first I believed he wanted me to dismiss Duer, but I soon decided it must be something else. I think even he, himself, could not have said what he wanted, but he somehow believed I would be able to provide it.

“What brings you to New York?” asked Duer. Pearson was, to his core, a Philadelphia man, and I, certainly, had not known him to travel to other cities. More to the point, I believed Duer considered me, when we were in New York, his exclusively. He did not like to share me, and he would have resented doing so with someone so beneath him as Pearson-a man ruined in everything but his understanding of his ruin.

The men returned to their seats, and Pearson brushed at his breeches. It seemed to be a nervous compulsion rather than a response to any dirt from the streets. “I am having difficulties in Philadelphia.”

I spoke to take charge of the conversation for him, to make him believe I was attempting to mind his interests. “What has happened, sir? Is something wrong?”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” he snapped, though not at me. He was looking directly at Duer. “I have sold off nearly everything I own. I have done everything you asked me to do, and I am nearly a hundred thousand dollars in debt. All I have to my name are these blasted four percent securities, and they lose value every day. I would have suspected something ill on your part long ago had there not been others buying them up, but this might have been only some other fools following your lead. They are worthless. I might as well use them to kindle my fires, for all they are worth. And the men I speak to-they say they will never again rise in value-that they long ago reached an unrealistic peak.”

Duer smiled. “Jack, we’ve talked about this. The four percents are nothing. You must regard them as nothing. Your debt is nothing. It shall be paid back.”

“It must be paid back now, Duer. You promised me that if I did as you asked, you would cover my losses. I’ve sold my properties. I’ve borrowed money from the Bank of the United States.”

“And all will be made easy,” said Duer, “but you know we must wait.”

Pearson rose to his feet. “There is no we, Duer. It is I who wait.”

I rose too and put a hand upon Pearson’s wrist. “I know a man such as you, who honors his name in the world of business, must hate to owe what you cannot pay, but you understand that the money is spoken for. Mr. Duer intends to use it to gain control of the Million Bank. Once that bank is launched, he shall take the Bank of the United States. It is hard, but you must be patient.”

He bit his lip like a child and shook his head, but he sat again, allowing me to do the same. “It is not about patience,” he said. “My creditors are after me. I’ve left Philadelphia because Philadelphia is too hot.”

Duer laughed. “That is nothing,” he said. “Send a list of these creditors to my man Whippo. I shall dispatch notes upon the next express explaining that I vouch for you and give my word that you shall make good within the quarter. No one will trouble you.”

It was true enough. A note like that from William Duer was almost specie itself. One more set of debts that would ruin him.

“That answers well enough for the baker and the grocer and the tailor,” said Pearson. “I don’t think it shall satisfy Hamilton.”

“You owe Hamilton money?” Duer asked.

“Not Hamilton the man,” snapped Pearson. “I owe the bank. You urged me to take out a loan, and I don’t even know where that money has gone. Your honey tongue did its magic, and now it is all gone. But Hamilton has sent his spy around on behalf of the bank loan. It seems the bank is restricting credit, calling in loans, and as I never respond to any of the letters, they’ve put a man upon me.”

“That Saunders fellow?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, Hamilton has a new spy, a little Jewish man called Lavien, and he is the very devil. He has the tenacity of a terrier. One day he waited in my parlor for six hours hoping to see me; my servants tell me he was as impassive as an Indian brave. There is something in his eyes. I met him once, and I felt as though I were speaking to a man who had visited Hell itself and spat out its fires with contempt.”

Duer attempted a dismissive smile. “Tell my man Whippo your creditors’ names.”

“And what of Hamilton ’s man?” I asked. I did it on behalf of Pearson, so he would think me his ally, but also because I wished to know. I could not have Hamilton and this new spy of his put a stop to things before the final blow was struck.

“I’m sure it is nothing,” said Duer. “You may ignore it.”

“I think,” I said, “it might be better if you were to limit your time in Philadelphia until the Million Bank launch.”

“I had hoped to go to a gathering at the Bingham house next week.”

“By all means, go,” I said, “but do not linger. Go and stay for a day or two, if you must, but do not remain too long, not until after the launch. Then everything will be made easy.”

Pearson left the room, and I walked Duer to the door, to put him at ease. I saw now how things must be. I could not save Cynthia Pearson entirely. I did not know if I could save her house and the great wealth she had long enjoyed, but I would save her from total destruction.

Once Duer was out the door, I turned to find Pearson in the foyer, his arms stretched behind him while one of the serving girls helped him on with his coat. He dusted it off once it was upon him and turned to me. “I don’t know how you can trust that man. He is the devil.”

“He’s not,” I said softly. “He is brilliant, but perhaps not as effective at explaining himself as he might be.” I could not have told a bigger lie, of course. Duer was a fool, but quite good at getting people to do what he wished. That had ever been his secret. He understood no more about finance than anyone else and less than many.

“You do know I am fond of you, do you not?” I asked him. My tone was sweet but not flirtatious. I hated myself for even the suggestion that I would seek to harm Cynthia in this way, but I could not have Pearson abandon the scheme-not now. If he left, others might follow, and then Duer would fall far too soon. Perhaps Pearson need not ruin himself with the Million Bank launch. I might find a way-Saunders, perhaps-to make certain he did not lose the last of his wealth there. But for now I needed him to remain steadfast.

He seemed stunned by my question. He took a step forward and held my hand. “Why, Mrs. Maycott, of course I do.”

I hated his vile touch. His oversized hands hardly seemed to belong to a human body, and yet I smiled. “I know Duer better than almost anyone, I think. Do you not agree?”

He continued holding my hand, but we had moved from the amorous to the financial, and he perhaps forgot he still touched me. “It does seem that way.”

“He parses out information a little at a time. I shall tell you what he will not. Do not sell your four percents, Mr. Pearson. No matter how low the value falls, no matter how much you lose on them, do not sell them. They will come back. I swear to you, they will come back, and if you will hold on, your patience will be rewarded and you will not only not be the loser for your efforts, you will profit. Duer tells no one this because he does not wish anyone to act upon it, but you have the right to know.”

He enveloped my other hand in his meaty paw. “I know not how to thank you, madam. Not only for the kindness of putting my anxieties to rest, but for showing me I have not been a fool.”

I pulled away, I hope not too abruptly. “It is our secret,” I said. I wished him gone and breathed with relief when he left the house, though the relief was illusory. I had taken a chance. I had risked my position, the wealth of my band of whiskey rebels, and even the scheme itself, for if Duer suspected, even for a moment, that I was anything other than a clever admirer, I should be out, and, once out, I would be powerless. Yet I had no choice. I had reluctantly turned a blind eye while Duer ruined one speculator after another, even when he sent his men out to the street to ruin tailors and fishmongers, but I would not let him ruin a wife and mother who had befriended me. I would not do it, and I could only hope I-and my friends-would not suffer for my loyalty.

B ack in Philadelphia, a general discontent fell over the house at Elfreth’s Alley. When I returned after my first New York visit of the year, I found Dalton out but Richmond and Skye home, clearly angry with one another.

“You are spending too much time with Duer,” Richmond said to me.

I sat in our narrow gathering room on the ground floor. There was a small sofa and several chairs. Skye had brought me tea, which I sipped, but neither of them would join me. Skye sat across the room, watching Richmond as he paced like a caged tiger at a county fair.

“Have you forgotten why we came here?” I said. “Duer and Hamilton stole from us the money owed us and lied to us, that we might trade it for misery and deprivation in the West. Then, once we turned that misery into success, they took it away again-their theft disguised as a tax levied upon those with no money. I spend time with Duer not because I delight in his vile company but because I want to destroy him and save the nation from Hamilton.”

“Fine goals, those,” said Skye, “and I rejoice in them, but there’s more too, let us not forget. We get not only revenge from this but compensation too. Our Joan has already more than tripled our holdings.”

“At what cost?” Richmond said. “She cleaves so close to Duer, I doubt she herself knows whose side she’s on. Tell me, Joan, do you care more for the country and for justice, after this tripling of holdings?”

Did I not know better, I would have thought Richmond had become jealous, but that was not it at all. He had always been cynical, had always been opposed to any project other than licking our wounds and finding the best possible hole in which to hide ourselves. He accused me of the worst because he feared the worst.

Skye rose to his feet. “You’ll apologize,” he said.

“Please sit, John,” I said softly. I turned to Richmond. “You grow tired of doing nothing, I know. The time for action will come, and if it does not there’s no helping it, but one way or another it will be over soon enough. It will be over by March or April, I promise. We will have revenge, the whiskey tax will be repealed, Hamilton and Duer will be destroyed. Then we may go our separate ways, if that is what you wish, but we will have money with which to do it. I know it is hard to be patient, but you must persevere. There is no other choice.”

When a man’s blood is up, there is nothing quite so infuriating as good, solid reason. Richmond grabbed his coat and left the house at once. After a moment of silence, Skye walked over to me, took away my cup of tea, and left the room. He came back in a moment with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He set them on the table, poured two glasses, and sat directly across from me.

“You’ve got to give Richmond something to do,” he said. “He will go mad, and he will drive me mad. He’s always been more beast than man. Not in the brutal way we often use the term, but he is meant for doing and action, for being outdoors and finding his own food. Sitting about in a house all day attempting to draw no attention to himself is no life for him.”

“We may need him yet,” I said, “though I pray God no. If things come to a crisis, we’ll be glad of him, and he’ll be glad to be of use. It cannot be helped that he is too uneasy to wait quietly for that moment. You seem to have no complaints, John.”

“‘They also serve who only stand and wait,’” he quoted, “and cook dinner and clean the house.” He attempted a smile.

I sipped my wine and closed my eyes. Behind me the fire burned; I loved the feel of the heat on my neck. I had been in a carriage all the day before, and now to be upon a comfortable sofa with a glass of wine seemed the height of luxury.

I was able to enjoy my peace only a moment, however, before the door flew open hard and loud. I leaped up, knowing not what to expect, but fearing either we had been discovered by Duer for what we were or that Richmond was back, somehow more angry than before.

The door was now open. The wind stirred up the fire, sending it into a rage, and snow blew into the front room. Dalton stood in the doorway, looking massive and vibrant. A huge grin broke out under his red mustaches. “I was hoping you’d be back, girl. We’ve got some good things brewing.”

“What is it?” Skye walked toward Dalton, for no other reason, I believed, than because it gave him something to do, something unrelated to his awkward conversation with me.

“It’s that Saunders fellow,” he said. “He’s hooked for certain now.”

“What do you mean?” I demanded.

“You know that Pearson’s fled town?” Recollecting himself, he shut the door and then walked over to the calming fire to warm his hands.

“I saw him in New York,” I said. “He’s hiding from creditors.”

Dalton nodded. “His wife suspects something. She sent a note to Saunders.”

I felt something spring to life inside me. “What sort of note?”

“Now, how would I know the answer to that?” he asked.

“Get it,” I said. “Go to his boardinghouse, and if he isn’t home yet, get it. Pay the landlady what you must to give it to you and keep her mouth shut. Promise her more each week she helps us. She’ll not betray us if she thinks there’s more money to be had.”

“Why do you want to delay him?” Skye asked. “He’ll find out in the end.”

“That’s precisely why.” To Dalton I said, “When you pay the landlady, give your name as Reynolds. Make sure she hears the name and knows it. When Saunders finds out, as he must, he will begin to look to Duer.”

Dalton sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Joan. If Saunders stops Duer too soon, it’s all for nothing.”

“We need to make sure we can hobble Duer when we need to, so we’ll set Saunders to sniffing around, but after the wrong things. It will make Duer uneasy and more eager to trust me. We had been thinking of using Saunders only to keep Duer from growing too powerful too quickly, but now I see he can be much more than that. Through Saunders we can manipulate Hamilton. We can make certain he learns nothing before we are ready, and everything when we wish it.”

The two men left, and I was alone in the house, suddenly feeling content and at ease. I could not say why, precisely, but I felt certain that all was now in hand, or soon would be.