‘We thought we could convince the governor general to take this ship back to Amsterdam, but he was adamant about sailing on the
‘Why were you in that cell?’ asked Arent.
‘Because I wanted to be.’
Creesjie cleared her throat. ‘Once my brother delivered the false ascension order to Jan, bearing the accusation of spying, we knew he’d ask Crauwels to recommend somewhere to secure him. We had the captain suggest he be imprisoned at the front of the ship.’
‘I couldn’t risk being asked to investigate because I knew you’d see through my failures immediately,’ said Sammy, pompously. ‘But nobody could blame me for not solving a demon’s scheme if I was manacled in the worst cell on the ship.’
Sammy placed a sliver of meat into his mouth. ‘Once I was in that cell, I had the freedom to come and go as I pleased. We had Bosey build a trapdoor from my cell out on to the beakhead. That allowed me to don my leper’s garb and slip into the water, so I could swim over to the ladder leading up to the poop deck. I usually did that after Arent left me. I had only to drop through the trapdoor we’d built from the animal pens into Crauwels’s cabin, then dart across the corridor into Dalvhain’s cabin before anybody was up and about. I spent most of my days in there.’
‘That’s why you had Eggert and Thyman slaughter the animals,’ said Lia, with sudden understanding. ‘They made such a racket every time anybody went near them. If you were constantly coming and going –’
‘It would have been noticed,’ finished Sammy. ‘As it was that first night when Sara saw me at her porthole. I’d gone to collect the candle snuffer from my sister, but I didn’t know your cabin and Dalvhain’s had been swapped. Arent nearly caught me, but I managed to get into the animal pens before he did. I dropped into Crauwels’s cabin with a chicken in my arms. Thank heavens, everybody was too distracted to hear it.’
‘You murdered the governor general while everybody was eating dinner, didn’t you?’ asked Arent, pushing away a pile of potatoes to lean his elbows on the table.
‘Yes.’
‘And it was you who saved me from Vos?’
‘That hadn’t been my intent, though I’m glad I was there.’
‘Did you kill Wyck?’ asked Sara.
The ship listed slightly, the plates sliding on the table.
‘He was a stable hand in our house when we were children,’ said Creesjie, taking hold of her wine. ‘Pieter tried to coerce the servants into saying they’d seen us performing satanic acts, but Wyck stood by us. He lost an eye for it, and ended up joining the Company after the family was slaughtered. That experience changed him.’
Sammy touched his sister’s cheek soothingly.
‘When I whispered to him, he told me he’d recognised Creesjie on the deck,’ said Sammy. ‘And that he’d want paying for his silence. We couldn’t let that stand. I actually offered him a fortune to kill Arent during their fight.’ Seeing Arent’s baleful glare he held his hands up. ‘I know he couldn’t win. I was hoping Arent would kill him in self defence, sparing me the trouble.’
‘How did you make the white smoke everybody mistook for fire?’ wondered Lia, with a professional curiosity.
‘Something I stumbled on while making philosopher’s wool from zinc,’ he related happily. ‘It’s impressive, isn’t it? We laced the caulking on the orlop deck with it. I had only to touch a flame to the tar and it burnt away, creating that white smoke, while leaving the wood intact.’
From his voice, Sara might have believed he’d used it for nothing more than conjuring tricks at court. Watching Lia’s delighted reaction, she could have believed the same.
‘How long have you been doing this?’ asked Arent, his voice cracking. ‘Committing crimes?’
Sara could hear the rage, barely controlled. She sought out his hand under the table, but his fist was clenched.
‘I was planning murders long before I was solving them,’ admitted Sammy. ‘My family name was destroyed, and we had nobody to support us. Emily and I survived however we could, and it turns out more people want somebody dead than care who killed them. I could tell you I carried on doing it because I was poor and starving, but I’ve lied enough for today. My gifts demand exercise, and the only thing more thrilling than unravelling a complicated murder is plotting one, then seeing it come off so perfectly nobody even recognises that it was a crime. Kings die peacefully in their beds. Nobles fall off horses while hunting. Beautiful heiresses commit suicide at balls. Good mysteries so rarely come along, but if you’ve got a little imagination, you can invent as many as you want. It’s proved a lucrative venture over the years. I’ve exported them to France, Germany, the Cape. They’re my spices, but unlike sugar and paprika, the nobility will never get sick of murdering each other.’
‘You really are Old Tom,’ said Arent hollowly.