The Westminster Poisoner Read Online Free PDF Page B

might have done, had he not been so unutterably tired.
    Haddon smiled when he saw the spy’s reaction. ‘Stewards can be relied upon to provide intelligent notions occasionally, so
     do not look so startled. Come, we shall do it together.’
    ‘I had better go alone.’ Chaloner disliked company when he was committing burglary, especially that of amateurs. ‘Although
     it is good of you to offer.’
    Aware of Haddon watching through the window, he trotted across the road and made his way to the most secluded of Greene’s
     three doors. He picked the lock with the easy confidence of a man who had invaded other people’s property many times before,
     and found himself in a tiny kitchen. Beyond it was a hall, with doors leading to more rooms and a flight of stairs. Chaloner
     headed for the latter, knowing from his surveillance that Greene slept in an upper chamber that overlooked the street.
    Through a crack in the bedroom door, he saw his quarry reading by candlelight, although the troubled expression on Greene’s
     face suggested his thoughts were a long way from his book. Chaloner supposed it was not surprising: he would not have been
     slumbering peacefully if the Lord Chancellor of England had deemed
him
guilty of murder, either. He crept back to the kitchen, closed the door and lit a lamp. Then he inspected the pegs on which
     Greene kept his outdoor clothes.
    The clerk had worn a rather shabby cloak that day, and it was hanging on the hook nearest the door. It was damp, as would
     be expected given that it had been wrapped around him while he had travelled home from Westminster at dusk, but it was certainly
     notsodden: clearly, it had been drying for several hours. Chaloner knelt to look at the footwear. Greene owned two pairs of shoes
     and one set of boots. The boots were stuffed with paper, to prevent the leather from shrinking, but again, they were damp
     rather than wet. Meanwhile, the shoes had not been worn that day, because they were bone dry.
    ‘Well?’ asked Haddon, when Chaloner rejoined him in the tavern. ‘What did you find? Is the Earl right about Greene, or am
     I?’
    ‘You are. He has not been out since returning home this evening, so he cannot have given Vine the poison. Of course, he might
     have hired someone to do it for him.’
    Haddon nodded slowly. ‘I cannot imagine there are many poisoners among his acquaintances, but I suppose it is something you
     should explore.’
    ‘What do you know about James Turner?’ asked Chaloner, thinking again that if the Earl regarded Greene as a suspect for discovering
     Chetwynd, then the flamboyant colonel should be treated likewise.
    Haddon was surprised by the change of subject, but answered anyway. ‘He likes the company of ladies, and I predict hearts
     will be broken, because he cannot possibly please them all. He is egalitarian in his tastes – he enjoys a romp with Meg the
     laundress just as much as one with Lady Castlemaine.’
    ‘Anything else?’
    ‘He seems personable enough to me, although I doubt the hole in his ear was made by a musket-ball, which implies a tendency
     to moderate the truth. And I would not trust him with my daughters.’
    ‘You have daughters?’
    ‘It is a figure of speech. My wife died many years ago, and I have no other family – unless you count my dogs, which are like
     children to me. And you? Sir George Downing, with whom you worked in The Hague, told me last week that you married a Dutch
     lass when you first went to Holland.’
    ‘It was a long time ago.’ Chaloner liked Haddon, but did not feel equal to an exchange of confidences that night – although
     a nagging voice at the back of his mind warned him that he was never in the mood for personal conversations, not even with
     Hannah. How was he going to develop friendships, if he could not bring himself to confide in the people who were trying to
     get to know him? ‘Even if Greene is a killer, there is no point in watching him now, because I