I fled the room, stumbling back along the corridor, down the stairs and out into the yard. I ran so fast that I almost collided with Grace, who was walking back to the Lodge with a firm tread and a straight back. I grabbed hold of his coat and spun him round to face me. ‘Smallpox! There’s a man… dying…’
Grace flinched and knocked my hand away. ‘Did you touch him?’
‘No.’ I thought of his hand, reaching out for mine. Oh God. ‘No, of course not.’
Grace straightened his coat. ‘Well, then, what of it, sir?’
‘What of it?’ I stared at him in horrified disbelief. Grace shrugged, indifferent, and began to turn away. I seized his jacket again, this time with both fists, and pulled him closer. He was a good head shorter than me, and very light. Hollow. ‘What of it? You must find me another room!’
Grace pursed his thin lips. ‘That is the room you have been given. It is the room you can afford.’
I let go of his coat. There was not a shred of fellow feeling in him. He would let me die in that room without a thought – without a flicker of conscience.
‘Mr Grace.’ Samuel Fleet leaned over the balcony of the Tap Room, a glass of punch in his hand. ‘What’s the matter?’
Grace frowned up at him. ‘Mr Hawkins is not satisfied with his accommodation.’ As if I’d been complaining of the view.
‘My roommate is dying of smallpox,’ I called up, though I was sure he had heard every word. ‘I am being charged two and six a week to murder myself.’
‘How unfortunate.’ He leaned his chin on his hand, coal-black eyes fixed upon mine. Smiled slowly. ‘There is a bed free in my room. You are welcome to it, sir.’
A shiver of dread ran through me. Lock myself in a room each night with a man who killed his last cell mate? I might as well share a cage with a tiger. ‘I… I thank you sir, but I-’
‘I insist.’
I had never heard such menace in two short words. Fleet had not taken his eyes from mine for a moment. Had not even blinked. I swallowed hard, then bowed my agreement. What else could I do?
Well, Mr Woodburn, you were quite right, I thought bleakly. God does have a plan for me. I am to be murdered in my bed on my very first night.
‘No, no, this will not do,’ Grace tutted.
‘There must be another room,’ I said, seizing my chance. ‘If I might just speak with Mr Acton…’
‘There are procedures. There are rules.’
Fleet raised an eyebrow. ‘Money is the only rule in here, Mr Grace.’ He held his hand over the balcony and poured a stream of coins on to the ground by the clerk’s feet. ‘That should cover the shortfall.’
