The Judas Blade by John Pilkington Read Free Book Online Page B

situation seemed fantastical. Only hours ago she had been sat in a damp, filthy cell, shivering with cold. Now she seemed to be discussing her future with a member of the government.
    ‘Would I have to go to prison again?’ she asked finally, to which the other shook his head.
    ‘That isn’t what I had in mind.’
    ‘Then, what did you have in mind?’
    ‘A very different role – one you would no doubt find more congenial.’ Williamson glanced briefly at Crabb. ‘But the choice is yours. After you’ve given me your intelligence, you may take your payment, leave here and return to your life in the theatre –if you must. Though you’ll remain sworn to secrecy with regard to all that’s passed – on pain of death.’
    ‘And … if I were willing to continue in your employ?’
    ‘Then you would make me a contented man. Especially as I have no other female agents at the present. You could prove invaluable … And with regard to payment, you would not find me ungenerous.’
    ‘Indeed?’ Betsy lowered her gaze. Thoughts of her father’s troubles, and those of Tom Catlin, flitted across her mind to be replaced by another notion. Despite all she had endured – including the tiresome role of a Moorfields trull – she felt excited. Williamson was speaking of acting, but not for an audience of city fops. Nor would this be acting from words penned by others, but those fashioned by herself to meet many occasions – occasions in which failure could mean real danger. She swallowed, and looked up to find both men watching her closely.
    ‘I would like a sum in advance,’ she said, making her voice flat. ‘Paid not to me, but to Mistress Mary Luxton in Chelsea. She is my sister.’ Then, taking Williamson’s brief wave of his hand for assent, she added, ‘Upon that, Mr Lee …’
    ‘Upon that?’ Williamson’s tone matched hers.
    ‘We are in agreement,’ she finished.
    ‘Then, you have my word,’ he said. ‘And if that concludes the wrangling, I’d now like to hear all that Venn told you before his untimely death – and I mean everything. Is that clear … Beatrice?’
    ‘It is, Mr Lee,’ Betsy replied. And with that, she began her testimony.
    It took less time than she thought. To her relief, she found that most of it made sense to the under-secretary. Moreover, as she recounted Venn’s hurried words to her from memory, the man’s interest grew until he was hanging on every word. When she had finished, however, he sat back abruptly.
    ‘This news he expected, from outside the prison. Have youno clue as to what it concerned, or who the bringer might be?’
    Betsy shook her head. ‘He spoke of a friend. I thought it might be a gaoler.’
    ‘Then the pathway isn’t mapped – indeed, it’s as dark as pitch.’ Williamson frowned at Crabb, as if it were somehow his fault. ‘If only we knew who killed the wretch, we’d at least have a trail to follow. Could you learn nothing from your turnkey?’
    Crabb shook his head. ‘No known associate of Venn’s was in the prison,’ he said. ‘I’d swear to that. As for the guards …’ He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t trust a single one of them.’
    Williamson’s eyes shifted towards Betsy, but he wasn’t looking at her. She sensed a sharp mind, sifting and calculating; and at last he seemed to reach a decision.
    ‘Well, then – you know where you must go next?’ he said, turning back to Crabb. The younger man nodded, though he looked far from pleased.
    ‘Will you instruct Beatrice in her part?’ he began, ‘Or—’
    ‘You can do that on the journey,’ Williamson answered. ‘It will give you time to practise your roles. I’ll send Eleanor too.’ He faced Betsy, who was now feeling quite alarmed.
    ‘Journey?’ she repeated. ‘Where am I— where are we going?’
    ‘Isn’t that obvious?’ Williamson retorted. ‘We need to find this bogus priest, discover what mischief he’s planning – this
projection
Venn spoke of. You must take ship for the