Free Murder on High Holborn by Susanna Gregory Page B

Chaloner,’ supplied Leving. ‘Nephew of the regicide, and recently dismissed from his post at Court. He is no lover of the current regime, so you can trust him.’
    Manning regarded Chaloner suspiciously, clearly thinking he would make up his own mind about that, while Chaloner winced. Leving’s voice had been loud, and London was full of Royalists eager to vent their spleen on anyone even remotely connected to the old king’s execution. With a flourish, Leving handed over the letters, although not before Chaloner had seen that they had been addressed in an elegant cursive with a distinctive flourish to each capital letter.
    ‘He thinks we should have opened them,’ Leving said, indicating Chaloner with a smile that made the spy wonder afresh whether he was sane. ‘But I refused. However, perhaps you will repay my honesty by reading them aloud now. I confess I am curious as to their content.’
    Manning’s eyebrows shot up into his sparse hair. ‘Then I am afraid you will have to stay curious, because they are none of your affair.’
    ‘Is this Sherwin?’ Unperturbed by the snub, Leving turned his attention to the dozing man. ‘He does not look up to much. Are you sure he—’
    ‘You are not seeing him at his best,’ interrupted Manning. ‘But he knows his business, I assure you. Lord, my chilblains hurt! It is this wet weather: my feet are never dry, and these shoes pinch something cruel. That ointment you sold me was useless.’
    ‘Well, well,’ came a voice from behind them. It was noisy in the tavern and Chaloner had not heard the approach of John Scott. Chaloner frowned: his old associate was appearing in some unexpected places. ‘This is an interesting gathering – Manning, Sherwin, Chaloner and Leving.’
    ‘You had my note, then,’ said Manning with a patently false smile. ‘Telling you to meet me here? You were supposed to arrive before Leving, so that I could explain certain developments.’
    ‘Funnily enough, it never arrived,’ said Scott flatly. ‘However, I saw you and Sherwin on High Holborn, so I decided to follow. And what do I find? Negotiations under way without me.’
    ‘Nonsense!’ cried Manning, rather too vehemently. ‘Nothing would have been discussed without you, as you know perfectly well.’
    ‘Do I?’ Scott turned to Chaloner, who was wondering what was going on. ‘I am surprised to see you here. I thought you had secured yourself a nice post with the Earl of Clarendon – one that pays enough to let you enjoy Temperance North’s costly brothel.’
    ‘He was dismissed,’ said Leving before Chaloner could answer for himself. ‘And he has other interests now. Such as protecting me from danger.’
    This was news to Chaloner, although Scott did look dangerous at that particular moment, and he could see why Leving and Manning were nervous of him.
    ‘A bodyguard?’ Scott regarded Chaloner with rank disdain. ‘Well, I suppose a man must eke a living where he can.’
    Before Chaloner could ask questions that might tell him what was happening, Sherwin woke with a noisy snort.
    ‘Ale,’ he slurred. ‘I need ale.’
    ‘I had better take you home,’ said Scott. ‘And it might be wise not to venture out again unless I am with you. As I have told you before, Manning is unequal to protecting you, should you fall foul of
certain people
.’
    ‘Home to the Pope’s Head?’ asked Sherwin brightening. ‘Good! They have ale there.’
    ‘He
is
safe with me,’ objected Manning, stung. ‘I have a sword and I know how to use it.’
    ‘With your chilblains?’ asked Scott archly. ‘You can barely walk, let alone fence.’
    They were still squabbling as they bundled Sherwin outside, neither casting so much as a glance at the two men they were leaving behind. When they had gone, Chaloner turned to Leving.
    ‘I think you had better explain what that was about.’
    ‘I wish I could,’ said Leving ruefully. ‘But I have no idea.’
    He might have done, if he had read the