The shot was a signal. Ebenezer’s guards were watching, grinning, but as the sound rang in their ears they were assailed by Devorax’s men. Sword-hilts raked faces, gun-butts slammed into bellies, and Ebenezer’s six men were overpowered, disarmed, then kicked and clubbed down to the earthen floor.

A leather-clad arm came over Ebenezer’s shoulder, clamped a hand on the pistol, and a knife blade pricked Ebenezer’s throat. Devorax’s man smiled. “Don’t move, Mr. Slythe.”

Devorax turned to Ebenezer. He lowered the smoking pistol. “Why should I share the Covenant with anyone, Mr. Slythe?”

The guards had let go of Campion, she clutched Toby, her arms about his back. “Toby!”

“He’s not hurt.” Devorax’s voice rode over the ringing echo of the shot. “The gun was loaded with powder and wadding. Nothing else. Let him go.”

The guards let go of Toby’s arms, stepped away, and he turned, Campion still holding him, and stared at the arrogant, helmeted soldier. “What are you doing?”

Devorax laughed. He tossed the pistol to the floor. “Seeing if you deserve the Covenant, Sir Toby. It’s yours anyway.” He took the helmet off and he laughed at their expressions. “I’m Lopez’s man. I always was, I suppose I always will be.” Sir Grenville listened with terror, Ebenezer stared open-eyed. His pistol had been taken away.

Devorax walked to the table. “There was only one way to gather the seals, and that way was treachery, but I’ll admit to a curiosity.” He held up the piece of paper with its three seals. “You’re going to be rich beyond your hopes, Sir Toby, and I wondered whether you loved her for the money or for herself. I don’t think Kit Aretine would have liked his fortune to go to a greedy man.” He held the paper into the flame of a candle. It flared up, suddenly bright in the room that was misted with the smoke of his pistol. Devorax watched the flames. “If you had not stepped in front of my pistol, Sir Toby, I would not have sent you to Holland with Lady Campion. As it is,” he dropped the burning paper, “you both go.” He stamped the burning ashes and melting seals into the floor, then grinned at Campion. “You’re rich again. Congratulations. You’re also loved, which I suspect is a greater blessing.”

Devorax opened the leather box and took from it a bottle and two glasses. He held one of the glasses toward Toby and grinned. “I remembered your delicate drinking habits. Will you join me?”

They still stood together, holding each other, not understanding. The pistol shot still rang in Campion’s ears. “You’re Lopez’s man?”

“Of course!” Devorax sounded cheerful. He had poured two glasses of wine. “When you have a good friend you don’t abandon him and, believe me, Mordecai is a good man. He lost a house in London to gather these seals, but he thought it a small price for your happiness. Now, come and collect the seals, Lady Campion, and drink a toast with me.”