A noise from below interrupted his glum reverie. Someone was ascending the ladder from the balcony to the roof. Then Dr. Nicolaes Huygens’s worried face appeared over the eaves. “May I join you?” he said.

DeGraeff groaned inwardly as the stout doctor sat beside him. Since Spaen’s death, he’d avoided Huygens. But they needed to talk.

Panting, Dr. Huygens took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his sweaty brow, then folded the cloth with meticulous care before putting it away. He clasped and unclasped his plump hands. “It’s almost time for the funeral,” he said at last. “Aren’t you coming?”

His hesitancy indicated that this wasn’t what he’d come to say, but deGraeff, preoccupied with his own concerns, didn’t care. “Nicolaes,” he said, “please, I beg you not to tell anyone what I’ve done.”

He should have realized that he couldn’t keep a secret on this tiny island. At first he’d used male whores dressed as women to hide their true gender from his comrades. Then he’d begun a foolish liaison with a junior interpreter. Huygens had accidentally walked in on them. Jan Spaen, who had learned of his sins years ago, was gone. Now deGraeff’s fate lay in the hands of Dr. Huygens. He waited in cold terror as the doctor turned to him.

“You and Spaen were partners for a long time,” Huygens said, as if he hadn’t heard deGraeff’s plea. “He probably confided in you.”

“What?” deGraeff said in confusion. “Nicolaes—”

Blushing a deeper red, Dr. Huygens spoke urgently, eyes searching deGraeff’s face. “Did he tell you things about—about the rest of us?”

Comprehension elated deGraeff. Spaen must have possessed compromising information about Dr. Huygens, too. DeGraeff had no idea what this could be; Spaen had hoarded knowledge and the power it conferred. Yet deGraeff saw that his salvation depended on hiding his ignorance from Huygens.

“Yes, Jan did talk,” deGraeff said, striving for nonchalance, stalling for time.

Huygens’s body seemed to shrink with defeat. In a strained voice he said, “So you know about me.”

DeGraeff merely raised an eyebrow. He had an advantage now, and he intended to use it.

“If you turn me in to Investigator Sano or the Dutch authorities, I’ll tell them what I know about you,” blurted Huygens, desperation evident in his feverish eyes, the reek of his sweat. “And I’ll tell them I heard you and Spaen arguing before he died, too. You wanted to leave the company, go home, and enter a monastery. But Spaen couldn’t manage without you. So he threatened to report your sin if you quit. You would be tied up and thrown in the sea to drown. That’s why you wanted Spaen dead—not for his share of the money you made together, but because he could destroy you. You hated Spaen and wanted to be rid of him.”