[Continuing chapter five]
Back in his room, Stewart eyed the
laudanum flask as he undressed. He and Miss Martin had walked for several hours
and his leg hadn’t hurt at all. If it wasn’t for the engraving on the flask,
and all that it represented, he would have been happy to throw the thing away.
Aside from the uncomfortable moment in front
of the houses inhabited by free blacks, he had very much enjoyed himself
tonight. The pleasure had more than justified the risk he’d taken. And in the
dark, smoky tavern where she’d fed him something called a cock-tail, she had
more than made it clear that, however she might feel about what married white
men did with colored women, Miss Martin was not averse to the idea of certain
unmarried men and women meeting again.
So why had he shied away from her? As soon as
he’d fully understood what she was saying to him, Stewart had felt edgy, a bit
as if he’d drunk too much coffee. He’d left her as soon as it had been seemly
to do so. Now he wondered just how much he might be willing to risk for this
woman. That, he decided, was only the most recent of the perplexing questions
he’d come to face since arriving in New Orleans.
* * * *
“That what I’d like to find out,” Grant said.
“That’s why we’re going to visit this doctor fellow.”
“What I mean is, why do you think that Brown
and Connell are using an Irish republican group? Why not just hire burglars to
break into the Cabildo and get the information they want?”
“If it was just information, that’s probably
what they’d have done,” Grant said. “I would be pleased to discover that
information is all they’re after. I still think that sort of spying is
distasteful, but I could live with it.”
“But you don’t think information is what
they’re after.”
“No. I’ve spoken with an acquaintance of mine
about this. Thomas D’Arcy McGee; perhaps you’ve heard of him. Lawyer, publishes
a newspaper.”
“I’ve heard talk about him,” Sherman said.
“Used to be a republican himself, didn’t he?”
“He says not. He admits to being a rebel, but
not a republican. McGee doesn’t seem to have much liking for republics,
Sherman. Can’t think why.”
“The French didn’t do such a good job of
theirs,” Sherman said. “Maybe he just knows more about the French than about
the United States.”
“Or maybe he just has a fondness for kings
and queens. At any rate, McGee tells me there isn’t any real republican
organization in New Orleans. When the United Irish were smashed a few years
ago, most of the republicans here left for New York, or were transported to
Australia, or recanted.”
“So what sort of group are we investigating?”
“Some people called the Garda,”
Grant said.
"Garda? Sounds like a
patent medicine."
"It's the Gaelic word for
'guardians'." Grant looked out the window of the omnibus. "We should
get out here, I think, and walk the rest of the way."
"Fine with me," Sherman said.
"I need the exercise."
I'm probably being too cautious, Grant thought. They were in a residential neighborhood, after all.
Doctor John Meighan lived in a respectable house on a respectable street. Grant
doubted that the doctor was a bloodthirsty man. Still, McGee's stories of the
way some of these Ribbonmen dealt with threats had made him wary of unnecessary
risks. The doctor might not be a man of violence, but that didn't mean his
house wasn't watched by those who were. Better to disguise their approach to
the place, just to be sure.
"So what are these Garda
guarding against?" Sherman asked.
"Mostly the British, I gather. But other
Irishmen, too. The Irish secret societies are a confusing bunch, Sherman. Most
of them want independence, but not all. One McGee told me about has a loyalty
oath to the queen in its initiation rites."
"And they're not republicans?"
"Not according to McGee. The United
Irish were the only republican bunch among 'em, he says."
"So these societies are fighting the
British—and each other—for an independent Ireland that's a kingdom?"
"That's how I read it. According to
McGee, the societies that are active here mostly formed as peasant groups and
aren't all that sophisticated, politically."
"And what the hell are they doing in
North America?"
"Mostly raising money. But some of them
try to sabotage the British wherever they can. McGee says that the Garda
are the most political of the societies here, so that's why I'm investigating
them first."
Sherman stopped. In the silence, Grant could
hear the unhealthy gurgle of the sewage canal that ran down the center of the
street. "If they're political and you suspect them," Sherman said,
"how are you going to investigate them by walking up to their leader's
doorstep?"
"By asking the doctor if he wants to
help me spy on the British and Canadians," Grant said. He smiled at
Sherman's reaction. "Brown and Connell haven't told anybody at the
legation what they're up to," he said, "so how could I be expected to
know if the doctor's already been recruited?"
Sherman laughed. "That's guileless enough,
Grant, that it just might work."
No comments:
Post a Comment