Death in the Dark Walk by Deryn Lake

man will reveal himself. I feel sure of it.’
    He rose to his feet to indicate that the meeting was at an end and Joe Jago, catching the Apothecary’s eye, dipped his head to one side to confirm this. John, too, stood up, feeling not only confused but also decidedly nervous.
    â€˜One moment more, Sir,’ he said pleadingly.
    â€˜Yes?’ answered the Blind Beak, his cane tapping before him as he made for the door.
    â€˜To whom should I dissemble and to whom should I announce myself as your man?’
    â€˜The list, Jago,’ the Magistrate answered shortly, and went out.
    The clerk, grinning enormously, thrust a piece of paper in John’s direction. ‘There you are, Sir, bless your worried phiz. It’s a bit of a plan for you to follow.’
    â€˜Were you writing that while I was speaking?’
    â€˜It’s my job to make lists, Mr Rawlings. I was only doing my duty.’
    â€˜This is most comprehensive,’ said John, casting his eyes over the neatly written instructions.
    Joe Jago’s foxy face creased into a million lines. ‘I have my uses for one born a rum cove. Good day to you, Sir. And just you take care of yourself, d’ye hear?’ And with that he followed his master out of the room.
    Over the cold collation which had been left out for him in the dining room, John read Joe Jago’s plan in detail. People he had yet to interview were written in one column, those whose identities were still to be discovered in another. There were only four entries in this last: The Apprentice Lad at Vaux Hall, the Country Boy, the Masked Lady (you will win many a wager should you manage to solve this mystery!) and Those Visitors to the Pleasure Gardens not known to Mr Tyers (this will best be done by dredging the memories of others present).
    Underneath these two lists was a rough itinerary —Most Adaptable to Your Own Convenience and Wishes but written with the Geographical Intent of Saving you Travelling Time and Labour. The final entry was a suggestion as to those in front of whom John should appear formally, and others amongst whose number he might insinuate himself.
    â€˜Remarkable,’ thought John, and made a note to discover the origins of Joseph Jago, Register Clerk to the principal Justice of the Peace for London, amongst his many other tasks.
    His supper done, the Apothecary descended the curving staircase which ran through the heart of the house and went to his father’s study where ink, pens and other writing materials always stood available. Here, he added some of his own notes to those of Joe: Urgently visit Samuel and ask him to Recount
All
He Saw. Take Hannah her Ointment and Discover what She has found.
    But this last, John realised, might present certain difficulties. Having left his Master’s premises and not having had time to find any of his own, he had nowhere to mix and compound, to distil and brew, even to store his herbs. Temporarily, he was that somewhat useless figure, a qualified apothecary without a place to practise his calling.
    The next day sending down as big a deluge as John could remember on a May morning, he stayed in bed for an extra hour and rose to find that Sir Gabriel Kent had already left the house, not saying where he was going. Rather surprised by this, the Apothecary had just gone into the study to reread Joe Jago’s instructions when Samuel was let into the hall after knocking thunderously on the front door.
    â€˜John,’ he gasped, ‘I have run all the way here! I’ve remembered something, you see!’
    As he had journeyed from West Cheap, the first statement was, to say the least, an enormous exaggeration, but pandering to Sam’s apparent state of exhaustion, John immediately ordered him coffee and a restorative brandy.
    â€˜Now what’s all this?’ he said, as soon as they were seated on either side of the library fire, lit to fend off the chills of the dismal day.
    Samuel gulped