Turncoat by Don Gutteridge Page A

near the end.”
    â€œI only meant he was flailin’ about—angry, in despair—at what was happenin’ to him because of the Clergy Reserves. And how he kept repeatin’ that there didn’t seem to be any political party capable of gettin’ anythin’ done.”
    â€œIs it possible, conceivable even,” Barnaby continued, “that Jesse joined or thought of joining one of the annexationist groups, one of the secret societies, and that he might have been privy to treasonable information?”
    â€œNow we’re really grasping at straws,” Hatch said.
    â€œThe man’s also been dead for twelve months,” Child said.
    Barnaby, who was beginning to enjoy himselfwholeheartedly, persisted. “What if Joshua discovered this information? Among his son’s effects, for example? And was thought to be an agent as well?”
    â€œYou’ve got a surfeit of ‘what ifs’ in that hypothesis,” Child said.
    â€œThere’s only one way to find out,” Durfee said. “Only one person is left who can shed any light on Joshua or Jesse.”
    â€œYou’re not suggesting Beth might be involved in anything unsavoury?” Hatch said sharply.
    â€œI think he’s merely implying that some of the answers to our questions lie in the Smallman household,” Barnaby said. “For the sake of the reputations of two men no longer able to defend themselves, I think it behooves us to engage in some hard questioning, indelicate as that might prove.”
    They all turned to gaze, with expectation and much relief, at Ensign Edwards.
    The arrival of Coggins with a tray of cheeses and sweetmeats and decanters of wine stinted the flow of serious conversation for some minutes. However, as soon as the sighs of satisfaction had abated, Philander Child picked up a thread of the previous dialogue.
    â€œWhile I concur that we must press Mrs. Smallman as forcefully as her delicate circumstances permit in order to eliminate any possibility that Joshua Smallman might have been an informer or that Jesse was anything other than a misguided Reformer, I would advise young Marc here to aim his investigation in more obvious directions.”
    â€œTo those in the county already known to be fanatics,” Marc said.
    The squire smiled patiently. “My years on the bench compel me to consider facts before hypotheses. Someone has to ascertain, among the living, whether there was any actual contact or real acquaintance between Joshua and known extremists. We need facts, dates, notarized statements, sworn information or affidavits. No one gets himself murdered—and even that assumption is still conjecture, remember—without coming into contact, in some discernible way, with his assassin.”
    â€œSo, I need to find out whether any such extremists knew Smallman or were seen with him over the past twelve months.”
    â€œAnd I can suggest two or three likely candidates,” Child said.
    Marc smiled. “Azel Stebbins, Israel Wicks, and Orville Hislop,” he said, recalling these names from Sir John’s notes.
    â€œSir John has been well briefed,” Child said.
    â€œWhen will you begin, then?” Durfee said.
    Marc smiled. “I already have.”
    J AMES DURFEE AND C HARLES B ARNABY LEFT together shortly after ten o’clock, because the doctor was tired after nine hours in his Cobourg surgery and Durfee wished to help Emma clear up after the chaos of the afternoon stage stop and the brisk evening trade of local elbow-benders.
    As the remaining three were finishing their nightcaps, Hatch happened to mention to Child that Marc had manhandled a couple of Yankee peddlers on his way to Crawford’s Corners.
    â€œYou are a soldier, young man.” Child laughed appreciatively. “And a damn good one.”
    â€œMarc has reason to think they were involved in smuggling rum,” Hatch said.
    â€œWhat puzzles me,” Marc said,