Ebenezer smiled. He saw the elegance of the suggestion, yet he also saw the difficulties. “Did the girl take impressions of Matthew?”

The gray eyes were on him. “No, Mr. Slythe, but she tells me you possessed the seal after her.” Devorax grinned. “Were you so honest with it?”

Ebenezer laughed again and nodded. “I have impressions.”

“Good! So tell Sir Grenville about me. Give him the half seal of Luke and a whole impression of Matthew. Tell him you’ve bought me, that I’m betraying Lopez, tell him the truth except for one thing.”

“That you’ll kill him?”

“That we’ll kill him.” Devorax laughed. “Give him the seals, Mr. Slythe, and tell him about Lopez’s house. He’ll believe you.”

Rain dripped from Ebenezer’s hat brim. The cloak was wet through and heavy. “How do I persuade him that Aretine’s alive?”

“You don’t. I will.” Devorax smiled. “Two days ago, Mr. Slythe, the last ship of the season docked from Maryland. Two days from now I’ll give Sir Grenville proof that Aretine’s in town.”

Ebenezer smiled. “He’ll panic.”

“Good! He’ll hear about it on Thursday morning. So be ready to move, Mr. Slythe, be ready to go with him.”

“Where?”

If there was a trap here, Ebenezer reasoned, Vavasour Devorax would be unwilling to disclose the rendezvous on the eastern coast where the seals were, at last, to be brought together. If Ebenezer knew the rendezvous he could send men ahead, men to scour the place against a possible ambush, but Vavasour Devorax gladly named the building and the village where he planned to strip Sir Grenville of his seals, where he planned to take the Seal of St. Luke.

Ebenezer memorized the instructions. “I can take guards there?”

“You’d be a fool not to. Sir Grenville undoubtedly will.”

“When do we meet there?”

Devorax shrugged. “Soon, Mr. Slythe, very soon.” He nodded toward his men who waited motionless on their horses. “I’ll send Mason to you. Don’t be surprised if he comes in the middle of the night. Where will Mason look for you?”

Ebenezer told him. “How soon is soon, Devorax?”

The ugly face grinned as the soldier gathered his reins. “Within a week, Mr. Slythe, within a week.” Devorax turned his horse.

Ebenezer was unwilling to let him go. He liked being close to the strength of this man and was already wondering how he could entice Devorax into his own plans once the Covenant was his. “Devorax! One last question.”

Devorax grinned. “Only one?”

“How do you convince Sir Grenville that Aretine lives?”

Devorax’s grin became broader. He pushed the rum bottle into his saddlebag and pulled the helmet over his head. “That’s my secret! Wait and see. You’ll enjoy it!” His horse went into a walk.

“Devorax?”

The soldier turned. “Mr. Slythe?”

“I have your two hundred pounds!”

“Keep it for me! I’ll collect it within a week, Mr. Slythe. Within a week!” The last words were shouted back from the cantering horse that, urged by Devorax’s heels, went into a gallop, scattering the crows from the butchered offal. Devorax’s men swerved behind their leader, galloping beneath the rain-darkened gallows and following him westward into the murk.