Dark Matter

“But were there not four messages, master? What about the message we recovered from poor Mister Twistleton? Did you not decipher that one?”

Silently, Newton handed over the decipherment and let me read the plain text for myself. It made alarming reading:Remember Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey.Mister Twistleton,In this great religious enterprise, blessed of God, you are to assist Sergeant Rohan in devising a plan to assassinate Doctor Isaac Newton, the Warden of the Royal Mint. All blame must be seen to fall upon Old Roettier, the engraver, and a much suspected Catholic, and upon Jonathan Ambrose, the goldsmith, who is a secret Roman Catholic, and who is know greatly to resent Newton. Upon the return of King William from the war in Flanders, this will help to stir up strong feeling against all Catholics, as did the death of Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey before. Therefore, acquaint yourself with Newton’s habits, and inform me by letter of how you propose to carry out this deed, which will be at a more suitable time yet to be decided.Remember Saint Bartholomew’s.Yours,Doctor Davies

“I must confess that this one gave me a little trouble,” explained Newton. “’Jonathan Ambrose, the goldsmith, who is know greatly to resent Newton’? That’s bad grammar. Such a thing makes a decipherer’s life most vexatious.”

“But, sir, you understate the matter most egregiously. For, according to this letter, you are in mortal danger.”

“I think that we are probably both in some danger,” said Newton.

“But in my own case, I should only be killed with the rest. You, however, are to be killed first of all. Which might be at any time.”

“Not until the King has returned from the war,” said Newton. “That is what the message says, Ellis.”

“It would explain why Sergeant Rohan was so curious about you,” I said, unhappily.

“You spoke to him?”

“Once, when I had followed him to Westminster,” I confessed. “I lost him for a while and then bumped into him. He was most affable. We had a drink together. At the time I thought that I might acquire some information about him.”

“And now you discover that he may have gained some information about me, is that it?”

I nodded miserably, ashamed to confess that I had the suspicion that I might even have let slip Newton’s address.

“No matter,” said Newton. “Information about me is not so difficult to obtain. He would have found some other means, had you not told him what you did. Therefore, calm yourself. We are prepared for them and know them for what they are: ruthless men. Doubtless Macey was tortured and killed when he tried to understand their messages. Even Major Mornay, who was one of them, was not safe when the scandal of a duel threatened to compromise their plans. We must move very carefully.”

“I wonder why they left Mister Twistleton alive,” said I.

“Who listens to a madman?” said Newton. “You said as much yourself. It is a measure of their confidence in this stratagem and their cipher that they left him alive and in possession of a coded letter. It also explains why Mister Twistleton wished to attack me. But I wish I had possessed the wit to copy down what he said to us. For I’ve an idea that he actually told us the keyword to the code himself, when we visited him in Bedlam. Do you not remember what he said when I asked him the meaning of the letters?”

“Blood,” I said. “‘Blood is behind everything,’ he said.”

“He meant it literally and cryptically,” said Newton. “For blood is the keyword to this code.” He shook his head sadly. “There are times when I seem very stupid to myself.”

“But one thing I still do not understand,” said I. “Why should this be happening here, in the Tower?”

“I have given this matter some thought,” admitted Newton. “And I have concluded that if a mob must be armed, where better to do it than from the Royal Armouries?”

“Yes, of course,” I said. “There are enough swords and guns here to equip a whole army. But what are we going to do?”