“You know what the seal is?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me.”

She thought quickly. She must reveal no more than what Isaac Blood had revealed on that day when he read the will. She spoke carefully. “It authenticates a signature on any papers dealing with the Covenant, sir.”

Cony laughed. “Very good, Miss Slythe, very good! So where is the seal?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“What does it look like?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Really?” He put another ball of pie into his mouth and chewed as he stared at her. She wondered if he ever blinked and, just as the thought occurred to her, he did so. He blinked slowly, like a strange animal, and then his row of chins heaved as he swallowed the quince and pastry. “You do not know what it looks like, Miss Slythe, yet when you first sought admittance to my house you described the Covenant as being that of St. Matthew? Yes?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“And how, pray, did you know about St. Matthew?”

“My father told me, sir.”

“He did? He did, Miss Slythe?” The left hand was crawling again. “Tell me, did you have a happy relationship with your father?”

She shrugged. “Yes, sir.”

“Really, Miss Slythe? A pleasant father and daughter, were you? He talked with you, yes? Shared his problems? Told you all about the Seal of St. Matthew?”

“He mentioned it, sir.”

He laughed at her, disbelieving, and then, quite suddenly, he seemed to change again. He leaned forward. “So you want to know about the Covenant. Very well, Miss Slythe, I shall tell you.” He seemed to be thinking, staring over her head at the naked Narcissus while his left hand, that appeared to have a life of its own, groped and molded at the fruit and pastry.

“Some years ago, Miss Slythe, your father and I, together with some other gentlemen, embarked upon a commercial venture. It does not matter now what it was, all that matters is that it was successful. Indeed! Very successful. I dare say we all surprised ourselves and even enriched ourselves. It was my thought, Miss Slythe, that the monies we had jointly made might be sufficient to keep us in our respective old ages, to make us comfortable in our dotage, and so the Covenant was formed. The Covenant was a convenient arrangement whereby one man could not cheat on his partners, and thus it has proved. We now severally limp into our dotage, Miss Slythe, those of us who survive, and the Covenant ensures our comfort during the winter of our lives. And that, Miss Slythe, is all there is to it.” He ended triumphantly, celebrating by another ceremonious gesture with a crushed ball of pie.

He had lied, just as her father had lied. If the Covenant had been a simple piece of business, why had her father not shared the monies with Ebenezer as well as herself? And she remembered the letters from her father’s parents-in-law, letters that described Matthew Slythe as failing in his business. Yet Sir Grenville Cony would have her believe that her father had somehow attracted London merchants and Cony himself into some venture of unbelievable success. She looked at Cony. “What was the business, sir?”