Hang him on the lamp post and there let him die.

Jonathan slipped a coin into their proffered hands which set them grinning with delight.

“Who is your guy?” he asked.

“It’s the Pope, mister,” said the tallest of the urchins.

“How stupid of me not to recognize him,” replied Jonathan lightly. “The likeness is remarkable.”

The boys gaped at him and we passed on, laughing.

“Most of them don’t know what it’s about,” said Jonathan. “Something to do with Catholics, that’s all. Let’s hope they don’t start insulting people of that faith. It can happen when they get rowdy later on.”

We saw many guys—grotesque figures made of straw and old rags which would burn well on the bonfires which would be lighted that evening.

The words were chanted through the streets and I found myself singing with them.

Remember, remember, the fifth of November,

Gunpowder treason and plot.

We see no reason, the gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot.

Jonathan took me where I might see the parade of the butchers who came from all the markets to join in the procession, clapping marrow bones together.

A stick and a stake for King George’s sake

A stick and a stump for Guy Fawkes’ rump

Holler boys, holler boys, make the bells ring.

Holler boys, holler boys, God save the King.

I watched with amusement and I said: “How different from the mob at the opening of Parliament.”

“The mob is here already,” he answered seriously. “It’s ready to emerge at the appropriate moment. On occasions like this it is lurking.”

“And you are watchful.”

He said: “We should all be watchful. The King was very lucky the other day. Shall we go to a coffee house? Would you like coffee or chocolate? We’ll hear some amusing talk, I daresay. We might learn something. I know of a good one close to the river. Jimmy Borrows’ Riverside Inn. You can watch the boats from the windows while you drink.”

“I should like that,” I told him.

He took my arm and I could not help it if I was happy, as I had been on that other occasion when we were out together.

It was a short step to the river. Jimmy Borrows evidently knew Jonathan.

He gave him a wink and nod as we entered and after I was seated Jonathan went over to him to have a word. They were in earnest conversation for some moments.

I knew enough now to understand that the tavern men were supplying information to Jonathan. I was beginning to learn a little about this secret business. Men like Jonathan and his father had contacts everywhere. It was for this reason that Dickon had been able to find the help he needed when he brought my mother safely out of France against such tremendous odds.

Jonathan returned to me, and hot chocolate was brought to us.

“Now, is this not pleasant?” he asked. “Here we are, you and I together, which is how it should be… often.”

“Don’t spoil it, Jonathan, please.”

“As if I would ever spoil anything for you!”

“I think we have spoiled a great deal, you and I between us.”

“I thought I had put that right. I thought you were beginning to understand.”

“Oh, you are referring to your philosophy. One is only guilty if one is found out.”

“It’s a good one. Look at these people strolling along by the river. How contented they look! Out to enjoy themselves! What dark secrets do you think they are hiding?”

“How could I know?”

“I asked you to guess. Look at that pretty little woman smiling up at her husband. But is he her husband? I suspect he is her lover. And if he is her husband, then she is far too pretty to be consistently faithful to him.”

“You are determined to bring everyone down to your level,” I said. “I believe there are virtuous people in the world.”

“The chaste and the pure! Show them to me and I’ll find sins of which they are guilty. They probably suffer from self-righteousness, pride in their virtue, condemnation of the weaker vessel. Now I would say that is a sin… far more than a little pleasant dalliance which has brought the greatest pleasure to two deserving people.”

I was staring out of the window. Alighting from one of the boats was a party of men. They carried a guy with them and there was no doubt who this one was meant to represent. It wore a farmer’s coat and there was a straw in its mouth. It had been very well done and on the head was a crown.

I said: “It’s the King.”

Jonathan was not facing the window and he said: “What… where? Coming down the river… surely not.”

“It’s a guy… made to look like the King,” I said. “And they are going to burn it.”

“That’s mischief.” Jonathan was up, but before he reached the window, I cried: “Jonathan, look. Billy Grafter is with them.”

Jonathan was beside me. The men were on the bank now… the guy in the arms of one of them.

“By God,” said Jonathan, “I’ll get him now.”

He ran out of the inn; I was immediately behind him.

Just at that moment Billy Grafter saw him and if ever I recognized panic in a man’s face I did then. Grafter turned and jumped into the boat and within a matter of seconds was pulling away from the bank.

Jonathan looked round him. There were several boats moored at the spot. He did not hesitate. He took my hand and almost threw me into one of them; then he was there beside me.

I could see Billy Grafter rowing as fast as he could. The tide was with him and he was making progress. But then so were we.

“I’ll bring him in,” growled Jonathan. “I’ll get him this time.”

The distance between us remained the same. Billy Grafter looked as though he was rowing for his life, which he probably was.

I clutched the side of the boat. I thought I was going to be thrown into the river at any moment. Jonathan was gaining when another boat drew level with us.

“Get out of my way,” shouted Jonathan.

The man in the boat said: “You insolent knave. Why should I? Do you own the river?”

“You’re obstructing me,” yelled Jonathan.

I could see Billy Grafter rowing furiously a little way ahead of us. Jonathan spurted forward. We were almost on a level with him now. Then the man who had come up beside us turned sharply, barring our way. Jonathan shot forward and within a matter of seconds we were in the water and Billy Grafter was getting farther and farther away.

Jonathan grabbed me and brought me back to the bank. I had never seen him look so furious.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

I nodded, gasping and shivering. I felt as though my lungs were full of water and my muddied stained dress clung coldly to my shaking body.

Jonathan was equally bedraggled.

A little crowd had gathered to watch us; some seemed amused. I supposed it was not such an unusual occurrence for a boat to be overturned.

Someone brought in the boat and one of the watermen said: “Best get back to Borrows’ Inn, sir. He’ll dry you and the young lady off there.”

Jonathan said: “Yes… yes. That’s best.”

“Get in, sir and I’ll row you back.”

The crowd began to disperse. The little entertainment was over.

“I saw what happened,” said the boatman. “Looked like deliberate to me, it did.”

“It was,” said Jonathan shortly.

“There’s some as likes a bit of mischief. Well, you’ll get into something dry and you’ll be none the worse.”

We had come to the inn. Jimmy Borrows came out rubbing his hands in consternation.

“We had a spill,” said Jonathan. “Can you help us dry our clothes?”

“Of a surety. Come in… come in. There’s a fire in the parlour. But first the clothes. You’ll catch your deaths if you stay in those.”

He took me to a bedroom and Jonathan to another. I was given a dressing robe which was far too big for me and slippers which would fit a man. Never mind. I was glad to get out of my wet clothes and rub myself down with a rough towel. The odour from the river was none too sweet. My hair hung limply about me, but there was colour in my cheeks and my eyes were bright and sparkling.

Jimmy’s wife, Meg, gathered up my clothes which she said she would put on a horse before the fire. I could go into the parlour, where the gentleman already was, and warm myself up. Jimmy had taken him mulled wine, which was just what was needed at such a time.

I went down to the parlour. Jonathan was already there. He wore a robe not unlike mine only his was too small. He laughed at me; he had recovered from his anger.

“Well, who can say this is not cosy! Borrows thinks you should have some of this mulled wine. It is very good and Mrs. B. has supplied some fritters which she says go with it.”

I sipped the wine. It was warming. I shook out my damp hair.

He said seriously: “I lost him, Claudine.”

“Yes.”

“It was the man in the boat… a fellow conspirator obviously.”

“I am sure that must be so. It was bad luck.”

“Bad strategy. I should have thought of that. I ought to have been quicker. Then I would have had him.” He looked at me steadily. “You know how I love to be with you, but I wish you had not been with me today.”

“Why?”

“Because this involves you even more than you were already. You know what happened there. You know that people… innocent people… like your mother and grandmother can be caught up in this holocaust. How much more danger is there for those who have special information.”

“You mean that I know for sure that Billy Grafter is a spy.”

He nodded. “You see, I have brought you into this.”

“No. I brought myself into it when I recognized Alberic in the coffee house. That was none of your doing.”

“You’ll have to be careful, Claudine. I think they’ll move Billy Grafter out of London. They know now that we are aware that he is here. He runs the risk of coming face to face with me or my father. He will be transferred to do his evil work elsewhere.”

“Which is inciting the people to riot.”

Jonathan nodded. “The same method which was used so successfully in France.”

“They shot at the King…”

“One of their fraternity most surely. If that had succeeded it would have been a start. I worry about you.”

“Oh, Jonathan, I shall be all right. I can look after myself. I don’t know much of all these things—but at least I now know a little.”

He came to me and took my hands in his.

“You are very precious to me,” he said.

“Oh, please, Jonathan… don’t,” I said tremulously.

He was silent for a while—more serious than I had ever known him to be. He had been greatly shaken, not only by the incident and its failure for him; and I knew in that moment that he really was deeply concerned for me.

The wine was warming me. I gazed into the blue flames which spurted out of the logs. I could see all sorts of pictures in the fire—castles, fiery red faces… figures, and I thought: I wish this could go on.

But that was how I always felt when I was with him.

It must have been about an hour that we sat there before Meg Borrows came in to say that our things were dry enough to put on now and would we like some more mulled wine?

I said: “We must be going. They’ll be missing us.”

“I’ll have your things taken up to the rooms,” said the obliging Meg, “and you can go up when you like.”

Jonathan looked at me. “Let us have a little more of your excellent wine,” he said.

Meg looked delighted and went off to get it.

“We should go back,” I said.

“Just a little longer.”

“We ought…”

“My dear Claudine, as usual you are concerned with what you ought instead of what you want.”

“They’ll be wondering what has become of us.”

“They can wonder for a little longer surely.”

Meg brought in the wine, poured it out and carried it to us.

Jonathan watched me as he drank.

“In the years to come,” he said, “I shall remember this moment. You and I in our ill-fitting robes, damp from the river, alone, drinking in paradise. This stuff tastes like nectar to me and I feel like Jove.”

“I do believe your tastes run in similar directions.”

“You find me godlike?”

“I believe he was constantly chasing women.”

“In various shapes when doing so… swans… bulls… what a gift!”

“Presumably he felt he was not attractive enough to be as he really was.”