“I cannot imagine why. But you were hardly a popular figure in Oxford when you left, either.”

He looked distressed at the comment. “It seems not. Although I am quite unaware of what I did to deserve such churlishness. You have heard of my dispute with Mr. Lower, I imagine? He mistreated me very badly, I do not mind telling you, and I am at a loss to explain why. I shared all my ideas with him, and was sorely treated in return.”

“Maybe he learned more about you than your ideas, and was not pleased to be harboring such a person. No man likes to be deceived, and if he was too gentlemanly to challenge you openly, it is not discourteous to indicate annoyance.”

A crafty look of caution came over his bland, wide face as he sat down opposite and studied me with what seemed to be vague amusement.

“I suppose I have to thank you for that, do I? Mr. Lower told me you were forever burrowing your nose in other people’s business, and occupying yourself with matters that were none of your affair.”

“I may claim that honor,” I said, determined not to be drawn by his offensive tone. “I act for the good of the country and its legitimate government.”

“I’m glad to hear it. So should all men do so. I like to think of myself as equally loyal.”

“I believe you are. You proved that in Candia, did you not?”

His eyes narrowed at my demonstration of knowledge. “I was not aware that my fame had spread so far.”

“And you knew Sir James Prestcott as well?”

“Oh, I see,” he replied, a false understanding dawning. “You had it from that strange son of his. You must not believe everything you hear from that young man. He has the most bizarre of delusions about anything and anyone connected to his honored father. He is quite capable of inventing any tale about me in order to reflect glory on that poor man.” “I can hardly think of Sir James as a poor man.” “Can you not? I met him under different circumstances, when he was reduced to selling his sword for hire, and with scarcely a penny to his name. A sad fall, that, when no one of his fellows would reach out a hand to help him. Can you really condemn him so much? What loyalty did he owe anyone by then? He was the bravest of men, the most courageous of comrades, and I honor his memory as much as I lament his end.”

“And so you come to England yourself, and tell no one of your own bravery?”

“A period of my life which is entirely at an end. I do not wish to recall it.”

“You associate with the king’s enemies wherever you go.”

“They are not my enemies. I associate with whomever pleases me, and whom I find good company.”

“I want my letters back. The ones you stole from my room.”

He paused, then smiled. “I know of no letters, sir. Search me and my belongings if you wish, but I may say I resent the imputation that I am a thief. Such things should not be said lightly by one gentleman to another.”

“Tell me about my Lord Bristol.”

“I must say I am not acquainted with the gentleman.”

His face was entirely passive, and he looked me evenly and unflinchingly in the eye as he came out with this denial.

“Of course not,” I said. “Nor have you heard of Lord Clarendon.”

“He? Oh indeed. Who could not have heard of the Lord Chancellor? Naturally I have heard of him. Although I do not know what the question signifies.”

“Tell me about Sir William Compton.”

Cola sighed. “What a lot of questions you ask! Sir William, as you know, was a friend of Sir James. He told me that if I ever came on a tour to England that Sir William would be glad to offer me hospitality. Which he most generously did.”

“And was attacked for his pains.”

“Not by me, as that seems to be the implication of your statement. I understand young Prestcott did that. I merely kept him alive. And no one will deny I did a fine job.”

“Sir James Prestcott betrayed Sir William Compton, and was detested by him. You expect me to believe he would willingly ask you into his house?”

“He did. As for the detestation, I saw no sign of it. Whatever enmity there was, must have died with him.”

“You discussed the murder of the Lord Chancellor with Sir William.”

The change in the Italian’s demeanor as I made this statement was remarkable. From an easygoing affability, the manner of a man who feels himself in no danger at all, he stiffened; only slightly, but the difference was extreme. From here on, I could sense he watched his words more carefully. At the same time, though, the air of amusement persisted in some fashion, as though he was still confident enough to anticipate no great danger for himself.

“Is that what this is about? We discussed many things.”

“Including an ambush on the road to Cornbury.”

“English roads, I gather, are full of perils for the unwary.”

“Do you deny you placed a bottle with poison in it for me to drink that night in New College?”

Here he began to look exasperated. “Dr. Walk’s, you are beginning to weary me greatly. You ask about the attack on Sir William Compton, even though Jack Prestcott was charged with the crime and all but owned his authorship by his escape. You ask about the death of Dr. Grove, even though that girl was not only hanged for the offense but even confessed to it quite voluntarily. You ask about discussions on Lord Clarendon’s safety, even though I am here, quite openly, in London, and the chancellor is in excellent health. May that happy state continue for him. So what is your purpose?”

“You do not deny, either, that you killed my servant Matthew in London in March?”

Here he affected an air of puzzlement once more. “You lose me again, sir. Who is Matthew?”

My face must have shown the full coldness of my anger, as he looked disconcerted for the first time.

“You know perfectly well who Matthew is. The lad you so generously took under your wing in the Low Countries. The one you took to your feast and debauched. The one you met again in London and murdered so cold-bloodedly, when all he ever wanted from you was friendship and love.”

Cola’s flippant air had now evaporated, and he twisted and turned like a fish to avoid confronting what even he knew was his duplicity and cowardice.

“I remember a young lad in the Hague,” he said, “although his name was not Matthew, or so he told me. The outrageous charge of debauchery I will not even dignify with an answer, for I know not where it originates. As for murder, I merely deny it. I admit that I was set upon by a cutpurse shortly after I arrived in London. I admit I defended myself as best I could, and ran off the moment I could. The identity of my assailant, and his condition when we parted company, I cannot vouch for although I did not think him so badly injured. If someone died, I am sorry for it. If it was this boy, I am sorry for that as well, although I certainly did not recognize him and would not have hurt him if I had, however much he had deceived me. But I would advise you, in future, to pick your servants with more care and not give employment to people who supplement their wages with nighttime thievery.”

The cruelty of this statement cut through me like Cola’s sword cut Matthew’s throat, and I wished at that moment I had a knife of my own, or more freedom to act, or a soul which could encompass taking the life of another. But Cola knew full well that I was under constraint; he must have sensed it the moment I arrived, and he used his knowledge to bait and torment me.

“Be very careful what you say, sir,” I said, barely controlling my voice. “I can do you great harm if I wish.”

It was, for the time being, an empty threat, and he must have sensed it also, for he laughed easily and with contempt. “You will do what your masters tell you to do, doctor. As do we all.”