The Master by Colm Tóibín Page B

the word,’ Gosse said.
    ‘Spelling, I imagine, was not ever his strong point.’ Henry stood at the window glancing out as though expecting Wilde or the marquess himself to appear on the street below.
    Gosse managed to imply at all times that his information came from the highest and most reliable source. He suggested somehow that he was in touch with members of the cabinet, or the prime
minister’s office, or on certain occasions an informant close to the Prince of Wales. Sturges, on the other hand, made it clear that all he knew came from club gossip, or chance meetings with
informants who might not be entirely reliable. The visits of Gosse and Sturges never coincided during these frenzied weeks, which was fortunate, Henry thought, as each of them came bearing
precisely the same information.
    Gosse began to call every day, Sturges merely when there was news, although once the trial opened Sturges came daily too. There was always some embellishment and some new piece of intrigue.
Gosse had met George Bernard Shaw who had told him of his meeting with Wilde, of his warning him not to bring the case against the Marquess of Queensberry. Wilde had agreed, Shaw said, that it
would not be wise, and everything was settled until Lord Alfred Douglas arrived, brazen and petulant, as Shaw had described him, demanding that Wilde sue his father and attacking those who advised
caution, insisting that Wilde leave with him there and then. Douglas was red-faced with anger, Shaw said, a spoiled boy. The strange thing though was that Wilde seemed totally under his power,
followed him and appeared to give in to him. He melted under the heat of the young man’s anger.
    Sturges was the first to arrive with the news of what the Marquess of Queensberry intended to tell the court.
    ‘He has, I’ve been told, witnesses. Witnesses who will not spare us any detail.’
    Henry looked at Sturges’s young face and his wide-eyed expression. He wanted to pat him on the shoulder and tell him that he was eager to hear the detail, all of it, as soon as it was
known, he wanted to be spared nothing.
    The story of Wilde filled Henry’s days now. He read whatever came into print about the case and waited for news. He wrote to William about the trial, making clear that he had no respect
for Wilde, he disliked both his work and his activities on the stage of London society. Wilde, he insisted, had never been interesting to him, but now, as Wilde threw caution away and seemed ready
to make himself into a public martyr, the Irish playwright began to interest him enormously.
    ‘I HAVE HEARD news of the greatest import.’ Gosse did not wait to sit down before he spoke, and moved as though he were standing on the deck
of a ship.
    ‘I believe that Douglas’s father will produce a number of scallywags. Young unwashed boys will give evidence against Wilde and, I have been told, their evidence will be
irrefutable.’
    Henry knew that there was no need to ask questions. He did not, in any case, quite know how to frame the question that needed to be asked.
    ‘I have seen the names of the witnesses,’ Gosse said dramatically, ‘and they include a number of worms. Wilde, it seems, has been consorting with worms, with thieves and
blackmailers. The price must have seemed cheap at the time, but it seems now it will cost him dear.’
    ‘And Douglas?’ Henry asked.
    ‘I am told that he is up to his neck in this. But Wilde wants him kept out of it. It seems when Wilde was finished with his filthy young purchases he passed them on to Douglas, and God
knows who else. It appears there is a list of those who rented these boys.’
    Henry noticed that Gosse was watching him, waiting for his response.
    ‘It is a dreadful business,’ he said.
    ‘Yes, a list,’ Gosse said, as though Henry had not spoken.
    N EITHER S TURGES nor Gosse went to the trial, yet they both seemed to know the exchanges by heart. Wilde, they said, was confident and arrogant. He
spoke,