Death in St James's Park by Susanna Gregory Read Free Book Online

had been covered with coats. Other people were sitting on the ground, being tended by friends or passers-by. Among the ministering angels was Temperance’s beau, Richard Wiseman, Surgeon to the King.
    Chaloner turned his gaze towards the Post Office. Its walls were pock-marked and several window panes had been smashed, but it was otherwise unscathed. Its front doors were open, and people were still moving in and out with letters, indicating that the explosion had done nothing to impede business. Wood’s mansion and the cottages had also escaped major damage, although Storey’s carved pelican had been obliterated by flying debris.
    Still befuddled, Chaloner struggled to understand what purpose such an attack might serve. As an assault on a government institution, it was a failure, because neither the Post Office nor the services it offered appeared to have been affected.
    He stared at the hole where the cart had been. Its size told him that a generous amount of gunpowder had been used, yet the vehicle had been left more or less in the middle of the square, where its impact on buildings would be minimal. Had the perpetrators been afraid to go closer, lest they aroused suspicion? Had they been novices, who did not know how blasts worked? Or had their intention been rather to kill and maim? He thought of Knight’s conviction that something terrible was underway at the Post Office. Was this the sort of thing he had envisioned? Chaloner supposed someone would have to visit Newgate and ask him.
    ‘Richard and I were on our way to dine in the Crown,’ Temperance was saying in the same shocked whisper. ‘But he wanted to bring a letter here first. We were just coming out of the Post Office when you started to shout and …’
    ‘And what?’ askedChaloner, when she trailed off. ‘What did you see?’
    ‘A cart flying up into the air on a fountain of flames,’ replied Temperance shakily. ‘And you tossed backwards like an old pillow.’
    ‘Did you notice anyone loitering before the explosion? Or running away after it happened?’
    ‘Yes! A great many people took to their heels once you began yelling. And thank God they did, or we would have been knee-deep in corpses.’
    ‘But did you see anyone acting suspiciously?’ Chaloner pressed. ‘Looking as though they were waiting for the blast to happen? Or positioned so that they could watch without being harmed themselves?’
    ‘I could not tell.’ Temperance swallowed hard. ‘There was chaos afterwards, and the alley to Dowgate Hill was crammed with folk trying to escape, all battling against those who were still coming to post letters. I did not notice much else. I was too worried about you.’
    Chaloner was surprised and touched by the expression of concern. He had not known she still cared for him, although he was sorry it had taken gunpowder for her to show it.
    ‘Who could have done such a wicked thing?’ she went on, more to herself than to him. ‘Someone who does not like the way the postal service is run? Well, who does? We all know about its dishonest practices – charging for letters that never arrive, Members of Parliament sending mail free for their friends, drunken postmen …’
    ‘Are there any other buildings of note in the square?’ Chaloner did not know why he had asked, because he could see for himself that there were not. He supposed he was still dazed.
    ‘Not really. Sir Henry Woodowns the mansion to your left. The cottages on the right belong to him, too, but he refuses to rent them, lest one of the tenants decides to grow carrots – he is rather odd, and a passionate dislike of vegetables is just one of his peculiarities. The only other resident is Edward Storey, who has the house nearest the Post Office.’
    ‘Do you know him?’
    Temperance nodded. ‘He is a patient of Richard’s and a decent man. I sincerely doubt this atrocity was aimed at him. Besides, all he does is look after the birds in St James’s Park, which is hardly a