Free An Experiment in Treason by Bruce Alexander Page B

replying in a well-considered manner. “Nooo, ‘ said he, “I can’t say that I have been consulted on any plan of that sort. I must say, however, that it is rather a good idea. There d be nothing like a good treason trial followed by a public execution to still those voices of contention.”
    “The reason I ask,” Sir John persisted, “is that the suggestion ‘in the strongest terms possible’ that I focus my investigation upon this man, Franklin, would seem to fit nicely into such a plan.”
    “Yes, wouldn’t it.”
    “Benjamin Franklin may not be as noisy as Samuel Adams and his faction in that place — what is it called?”
    “Massachusetts,” said I quickly.
    “Yes,” said Sir John. “Thank-you, Jeremy. Franklin may not be as noisy as some, but he’s right here in London — most of the time. Ever so handy.”
    Alas, his irony was lost upon the Lord Chief Justice, who continued to appraise the hypothesis in muttered comments to himself. At last, he looked to Sir John and spoke out in a manner most eager.
    “Tell me, sir, who was it made the suggestion to you? I should like to tell him what I think of his plan.”
    “You already have.”
    “Already have? What do you mean? “
    “Jeremy here offered it simply as an hypothesis — a mere guess — as to what the letters might contain. And in so doing, he gave me a most unpleasant fright.”
    “Fright? I don’t understand you, Sir John. But in truth, I often don’t.”
    “Nowyou have frightened me even more.”
    “But how?”
    “By taking it all with the utmost seriousness, by thinking it rather a good idea.”
    At that, Lord Mansfield simply growled and said no more. The rest of our journey passed in silence. When it ended in Bow Street, he offered no more than a curt good-bye.
    Once inside. Sir John swept down the long hall, as I trailed in his wake. He called out a loud hello to Mr. Marsden and asked how the docket looked that day.
    “Barring a riot between now and noon,” said the court clerk, “it looks to be a light day.”
    “Excellent, Mr. Marsden, excellent. I’ve a few things to attend to before court time.” And, over his shoulder, to me: “Come along, Jeremy. I must dictate a couple of letters, and then you must deliver them.”
    Between the writing of the letters and their delivery, the rest of the morning was consumed — and a bit of the afternoon, as well. The letter to Samuel Johnson required special pains, for, in effect. Sir John asked in it that the great man cancel any and all plans that he may have made for tomorrow evening and come instead to a small dinner party that he was giving for Benjamin Franklin. Did Franklin know of this? No, he did not. In fact. Sir John was depending upon Mr. Johnson to persuade Franklin to come along to the party. He might tell him that “something special” had been planned for him, and indeed it had been. Sir John asked for Mr. Johnson’s support in this, and his trust, as well. He concluded the letter: “I would not presume upon our acquaintance in this manner if I felt there were any other way of assembling the players at this rather serious game. You know Franklin, I do not; therefore I must depend upon you. For your part, you may depend upon this: though Franklin may have some uneasy moments during our table talk, he would find it far more uncomfortable if I were to handle this in any other way.” This was then followed by the usual florid close.
    A letter of invitation of a simpler and more direct sort was also dictated to Benjamin Franklin. It was to be given to Samuel Johnson that he might deliver it in person and use his justly famed pow-ers of persuasion to induce the colonial gentleman to attend this occasion.
    “Can you think of any other, Jeremy, whom we might invite? I’d say we have room for one more.”
    “Someone, perhaps, with an interest in science, and even some knowledge of Mr. Franklin’s experiments?” I suggested.
    “Exactly right.”
    “And yet with