McGinnis was a fellow veteran of His Majesty’s army and had lost an eye in some foreign place. A rag was wrapped about his head to hide the hole, but it’d slipped to reveal red scarring.
The man nodded and yelled into the lodge. “Oy, Bill! Lord Vale ’as come again.” He turned back to Jasper. “Bill’ll be ’ere in two ticks, milord.”
Jasper nodded and gave the guard a half crown, insurance that the mare would still be in the yard when he returned. He’d quickly figured out on his first visit to this dismal place that extravagantly bribing the guards made the entire experience much simpler.
Bill, a runty little man with a thick shock of iron-gray hair, soon came out of the lodge. He held the badge of his trade in his right hand: a large iron ring of keys. The little man hunched a shoulder at Jasper and crossed the yard to the prison’s main entrance. Here, a huge overhanging doorway was decorated with carved manacles and the biblical quote VENIO SICUT FUR—I come as a thief. Bill hunched his shoulder at the guards who stood about by the portal and led the way inside.
The smell was worse here, the air stale and unmoving. Bill trotted ahead of Jasper, through a long corridor and outside again. They crossed a large courtyard with prisoners milling around or huddled in clumps like refuse washed upon a particularly dismal shore. They passed through another, smaller building, and then Bill led the way to the stairs that emptied into the Condemned Hold. It was belowground, as if to give the prisoners a taste of the hell they would soon spend eternity in. The stairs were damp, the stone worn smooth by many despairing feet.
The subterranean corridor was dim—the prisoners paid for their own candles here, and the prices were inflated. A man was singing, a low, sweet dirge that every now and again rose on a high note. Someone coughed and low voices quarreled, but the place was mostly quiet. Bill stopped before a cell that held four occupants. One lay on a pallet in the corner, most likely asleep. Two men played cards by the light of a single flickering candle.
The fourth man leaned against the wall near the bars but straightened when he saw them.
“A lovely afternoon, isn’t it, Dick?” Jasper called out as he neared.
Dick Thornton cocked his head. “I wouldn’t know, would I?”
Jasper tsked softly. “Sorry, old man. Forgot you can’t see the sun much from in here, can you?”
“What do you want?”
Jasper regarded the man behind the bars. Thornton was an ordinary man of middling height with a pleasant, if forgettable, face. The only thing that made him stand out in the least was his flaming red hair. Thornton knew damn well what he wanted—Jasper had asked often enough in the past. “Want? Why, nothing. I’m merely passing the time, seeing the sweet sights of Newgate.”
Thornton grinned and winked, the facial expression like a strange tic he couldn’t control. “You must think me a fool.”
“Not at all.” Jasper eyed the man’s threadbare clothes. He dipped his hand in his pocket and came up with a half crown. “I think you a rapist, a liar, and a murderer many times over, but a fool? Not at all. You wrong me, Dick.”
Thornton licked his lips, watching as Jasper flipped the coin between his fingers. “Then why are you here?”
“Oh.” Jasper tilted his head and gazed rather absently at the stained stone ceiling. “I was just remembering when we caught you, Sam Hartley and I, at Princess Wharf. Terribly rainy day. Do you remember?”
“ ’Course I remember.”
“Then you may recollect that you claimed not to be the traitor.”
A crafty gleam entered Thornton’s eyes. “There’s no claim about it. I’m not the traitor.”
“Really?” Jasper dropped his gaze from the ceiling to stare Thornton in the eye. “Well, you see that’s just it. I think you’re lying.”
“If I lie, then I’ll die for my sins.”
“You’ll die anyway, and in less than a month. The law says that convicted men must be hanged within two days of their sentencing. They’re rather strict about it, I’m afraid, Dick.”
“That’s if I’m convicted at trial.”
“Oh, you will be,” Jasper said gently. “Never fear.”
Thornton looked sullen. “Then why should I tell you anything?”
Jasper shrugged. “You still have a few weeks left of life. Why not spend it with a full belly and clean clothes?”
“I’ll tell you somethin’ for a clean coat,” one of the men playing cards muttered.
Jasper ignored him. “Well, Dick?”
The red-haired man stared at him, his face blank. He winked and suddenly thrust his face at the bars. “You want to know who betrayed us to the%" yed us French and their scalping friends? You want to know who painted the earth with blood, there by that damned falls? Look at the men who were captured with you. That’s where you’ll find the traitor.”
Jasper jerked his head back as if a snake had struck. “Nonsense.”