The Bloodless Boy by Robert J. Lloyd Read Free Book Online

in Bishopsgate Without. Hooke, knowing his walk well, recognised his hurt.
    The Justice was indifferent to the younger man’s feelings. He produced two letters from inside his notebook.
    ‘There was another such a finding, Mr. Hooke. Another such a boy.’
    Hooke looked sharply at him. He had warned Harry that they risked being pulled into deep waters. ‘Was this other boy also drained of his blood?’
    ‘Likewise, it was taken.’
    ‘When was he found?’
    ‘One week ago. On Christmas Day.’
    ‘Left at the Fleet River?’
    ‘Discovered out east, at Barking Creek beyond the Woolwich Docks.’
    ‘Have you kept this first boy, as you require the second?’
    ‘He lies pickled at your new College of Physicians.’ Sir Edmund handed over the letters to the Curator. ‘I leave these with you.’
    Hooke, looking pained, took them from him.
    ‘Keep these securely,’ Sir Edmund instructed. ‘The first is a note I have written to you. The second is my copy of the document left with the Fleet boy. It was this endeavour I engaged myself upon this afternoon.’
    Hooke blanched. ‘What does it say of the boy?’ he asked. His eyes looked everywhere but at the papers he held.
    ‘Read these, and then consider whether you are willing to help me.’
    ‘Does it tell of the taking of his blood?’
    ‘Read them, please. Good evening, Mr. Hooke.’
    Observation VII
Of a Cipher
    It was as if the letters formed up into a troop. There was evident strength in the bold verticals, and precision in the horizontals. A neat right hand margin revealed a man who planned ahead.
    The Justice’s writing suited him well, Hooke thought. He lifted the paper up to the candlelight. The pressing of Sir Edmund’s nib had left an indented trail through the surface, but not so hard as to suggest an unbalanced character.
    Mr. Robert Hooke (only).
At His lodgings within Gresham’s College.
Jan: 1 1677/8
    Your Abilities surpass mine to glean Meaning from these Papers. Their Notation takes the form of a Cypher. I rely upon you, Mr. Hooke, to divert your most Earnest Attention and provide a Full and Active understanding, where my own is Limited and Lame.
    You are enough Politick, I think, to understand my showing this to You, and only to You. We will discuss further this Business.
    Burn this.
    Sir Edmund Bury Godfrey Justice of Peace,
from his House at Hartshorne Lane
    Hooke swallowed the last of his evening meal, the hare with pease-pudding, and washed it down with some claret. He felt the persuasive pull of Sir Edmund’s note, and the subtlety that lay behind the blend of flattery and exhortation. Sir Edmund was used to getting his way, and employed a range of means to do so.
    The Justice was a stimulating man: he had known him for the daylight hours of one day, and found himself with a boy drained of his blood, the second such boy to be found, and now some enciphered papers.
    He picked up Sir Edmund’s copy of the document left with the boy at the Fleet. It consisted of sheets of paper each with a grid of numbers arranged in a square, twelve numbers along by twelve numbers down, written on one side only of each sheet.
    It brought a misty feeling of familiarity.
    Hooke held forth often enough about the application of his discoveries and methods, and the merits of the New Philosophy for practical men. With the finding of the boy at the Fleet, and another at Barking Creek, it was an opportunity to demonstrate usefulness. And, perhaps, receive payment from a grateful State. He suspected, though, that Sir Edmund might lead him into matters he would far rather wish to avoid – especially if there was any truth in the Justice’s suspicion that this was some Catholic business.
    What was he to make of this curious man? And why the Justice’s insistence upon burning his letter? Remembering his direction, Hooke folded the paper and dropped it onto the fire, where it furled like the petals of a flower closing. He prodded at it with a firedog until it broke