“Mr. Ufford hired you to discover the men who sought to disturb his quiet and the exercise of his traditional liberties as a priest of the Church of England. He did not intend you to find yourself caught in such a nest of vipers, but that is inconsequential, for caught you are. But those who wished to silence Mr. Ufford are the very ones who want you destroyed- namely, one Dennis Dogmill and his lapdog, Albert Hertcomb.”
“But why? I have found myself returning again and again to this man, but I have not yet discovered a reason why Dogmill should go to such trouble.”
“Is not the answer obvious? You were attempting to learn who sent the notes to Mr. Ufford. If you were to discover that they originated with Dogmill, he would have been ruined, Hertcomb discredited, and the Westminster election lost for the Whigs. Instead, he cleverly arranged that he could remove an obstacle, this poor Yate, and blame the crime on an enemy. I own that the matter has taken on political dimensions it might not have had otherwise because of my efforts to keep you in the public eye, but that is the extent of our involvement in your affairs. And if I have encouraged sympathetic newspapers to praise your efforts- which are indeed praiseworthy- and to point to the dangers you face from the Whigs- which are quite real- I can hardly be blamed.”
“If the Jacobites are my friends, why did Ufford attempt to have me destroyed tonight?”
The Pretender shook his head. “That was a regrettable mistake. He feared you grew too close to learning what he would not have you know, so he took action himself. When I received word, telling me what he had done, I instructed Mr. Johnson to make certain you did not fall into Whiggish hands.”
“And I did as much as could be asked,” Johnson said.
I nodded, for I had to admit to the justice of what he claimed.
“Then you must trust me enough to believe my interpretation of the facts before us,” Johnson continued.
Johnson’s theory withstood the assault of logical inquiry, but it still failed to convince. Could Dogmill have been foolish enough to believe I would go blindly to the gallows? All I knew of the man suggested that, though he might be violent and impulsive, he was also a calculating planner, and he would have known better than to hope I should cooperate with my own destruction.
“I feel there must be more to it than that,” I said.
Johnson shook his head. “Perhaps you are not familiar with the principle called Occam’s razor, which tells us that the simplest theory is almost always the correct one. You may spend the rest of your life searching for the truth, if you like, but I have set it out before you.”
“It may well be as you say- you cannot but know that I have come back to those same conclusions many times- but I must be able to prove it in order to accept the truth of it and to sway others.”
“It is pitiable, but you may never be able to do so. Dogmill is a treacherous beast, and he will not surrender damning evidence easily. You have already made your case to the law, and the law has been proved to care nothing for justice. In light of that, I fear you have set yourself upon a course, no matter how honorable, that will ultimately end with your destruction.” He paused to sip his wine. “But there is another way available to you.”
“Oh?”
“I should like to offer you a post in my service,” the Pretender said to me. “I will have you spirited out of the country before nightfall tomorrow. There is much to be done on the continent, and you will be able to act without fear of the law. What say you? Is it not time that you ceased your noble efforts to make a corrupt system acknowledge justice? Would it not be better to help usher in a new order of fairness and honesty?”
“Please do not take this as an insult, Your Grace, but I cannot act against the current government,” I said, very coolly.
“I have heard this sentiment before,” he said, “and I am ever astonished that even a man like you, who suffers at the whim of evil men, can be so reluctant to turn away from those same men.”
“You fear being called a traitor,” Johnson said. “How can it be treachery to serve the man who is your true sovereign? I am sure you know the history of this kingdom too well to require a lecture, but I shall only point out that our right monarch was driven from his throne by a pack of bloodthirsty Whigs who would have served him with the same sauce they served his father when they beheaded that great king. Now, out of a bigoted hatred of the way the king chooses to worship- a bigotry that must be particularly odious to you Jews- they have conferred the crown on a German princeling with no connection to these islands, no knowledge of the English language, and nothing more to recommend him than that he is not of the Roman religion. Are not the supporters of the Whigs the true traitors?”
I took a deep breath. I cannot say I was not tempted. This kingdom had gone through so many changes and upheavals in the past century that surely another one was possible. If the Pretender was successful in his bid for the throne, and I threw my lot in with him, would I not gain, and gain greatly, by my efforts? But that could not be incentive enough.
“Mr. Johnson, I do not style myself a political thinker. I can only say that my race has received an uncommon warm welcome in this country, and it would be ingratitude of the highest order to rebel against its government, even if some of its members seek to do me harm. I understand your cause, sir, and I sympathize with the depth of your beliefs, but I cannot do as you so kindly request.”
The Pretender shook his head. “I say this not to be critical, Mr. Weaver, for it is the condition of all men. But you would rather live in servitude to a master you know than risk freedom with a new master. It is a sad thing that a person of your stripe cannot quit the clogs of subjugation. You may depend on no ill will on my part. When I am returned to my rightful place, I will beg you call upon me. There will be a place for you yet.”
I bowed in return, and the Pretender left the room.
Johnson shook his head. “His Majesty is ever more generous and understanding than I am, for I will call your decision foolish to your face. I did imagine that you would say as much, but His Majesty wished to make the offer, and so it was made. The time may yet come when you change your mind. Clearly, you know where to find some of my brethren, so you needn’t keep it a secret if you decide you wish to join us. In the meantime, I can only beg that you not repeat any of what you have seen and heard here tonight. If you do not wish to stand with us, I must depend on your gratitude for our preserving your freedom.”
He now fell silent, and the room was full of our breathing and the clicking of a great clock.
“That is all?” I asked incredulously. “You intend to let me leave this place?”
“I have no way of preventing you from doing so but by means I should find distasteful. And as it happens, His Majesty is within a few hours of quitting these shores, so you can do little harm by reporting what you have seen- though I would request that you do not. I can only wish you luck in your quest for justice, sir, as I know that any bold endeavor on your behalf will serve the true king’s interests.”
Improbable though it seemed, Mr. Johnson intended to let me leave, though I now had information fit to destroy Mr. Ufford- though no evidence with which to support my claims. I have rarely felt as guarded as I did while leaving that house, but no bravos appeared from the shadows to cut my throat, and the greatest difficulty I faced in getting home was finding a hackney to carry me there.
I fell asleep marveling that Ufford would permit me to walk the same soil as he did with the information I possessed, but I soon found out he had no intention of doing so. I soon learned that the day after my meeting with Johnson, Ufford departed these shores- claiming health difficulties- and took up residence in Italy. In fact, he took himself to Rome, the very city in which the Pretender resided.