Sir Grenville said nothing. He simply watched Devorax. He hid his thoughts and his emotions.

Devorax turned back to Campion. His eyes glittered behind the steel bars of his helmet. “Sir Grenville, girl, came because he feared Kit Aretine was searching for him in London. You owe me thanks, girl. I killed the Reverend Faithful Unto Death Hervey in your father’s name.” Devorax chuckled. “He died a peculiarly smelly, frightened death. Kit Aretine would have been proud of me.”

“I wish he was here now,” Campion said with bitterness.

Devorax laughed. “Put not your trust in failures, girl.”

“My wife’s name is Lady Lazender.”

Devorax looked at Toby as he might look at a tiresome child. His voice was bored. “If you aren’t quiet, puppy, I’ll slit your tongue.”

Devorax’s men, interspersed with Ebenezer’s guards, watched in amused silence. They had drawn swords beside them, musketoons or pistols cradled in their arms. Devorax himself was utterly sober and his quiet, arrogant confidence easily dominated the strange stone barn. He looked at the dark sky through the broken roof. “We have time before the tide will be high enough. I thought a small discussion would pass the time. You might even amuse me by pleading for your lives.” He looked slowly from Sir Grenville to Toby, from Toby to Campion. “But we shall begin with the seals. I believe you have St. Luke, girl. Put it on the table.”

Campion did not move. It was cold in the barn. She sensed the soldiers leaning forward to watch her.

Devorax sighed. “Either you put the seal on the table, girl, or one of my men will search you for it. The choice is yours.”

Toby took his hand from Campion’s. The movement made Ebenezer lift his heavy pistol, but Devorax reached out a huge hand and pressed down on the barrel. “I think the puppy has what we want, Mr. Slythe.”

Toby reached beneath his collar, pulled, and the gold seal shone in the candlelight. He looped the chain over his dark red curls, then placed the seal of St. Luke on the rough timber planks. Ebenezer, smiling to himself, reached with his long, white fingers and pulled the seal by the chain toward him.

Devorax looked at Sir Grenville. “I don’t believe you came empty-handed, Sir Grenville. Your two, please.”

Sir Grenville’s chair creaked. Campion could hear the sea beating endlessly on the mud of the shore. The guard behind Sir Grenville grinned, pulled back the flint of his pistol so that it clicked loudly in the stone room.

Sir Grenville blinked slowly, then moved a reluctant hand to a pocket. Devorax’s pistol was pointed at him. The fat man grimaced as he fished in the tight pocket, pulled, and suddenly the seals were there. He dropped them heavily on the table.

The guard stepped back. Ebenezer reached for them, picked them up with a curious delicacy, and the seals were gathered.

Matthew, Mark and Luke were together, as they had not been in half a lifetime. Their gold chains mingled on the table, their bands of precious stones winked like tiny fire-stars. It was a fortune.