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information to say one way or the other, but Hewson, along with
     poor Charles-Stewart, made two dead that morning, and it was barely nine o’clock.
    ‘I should go,’ he said, breaking into Robert’s scathing tirade against Downing. He knew he should return to Thurloe as soon
     as possible, and not waste time listening to the gossip of a pair of booksellers, gratifying though it might be: having spent
     five years working with Downing, Chaloner doubted any Londoner could loathe the man as much as he did.
    Leybourn caught his arm. ‘You are leaving? Withouttelling us how you came to be chased from Kelyng’s house by the man himself ? And you have not told us your name.’
    ‘Thomas Heyden,’ replied Chaloner, giving his usual alias. Thurloe had chosen the name because it was neither resoundingly
     English nor resoundingly foreign. ‘I am a clerk.’
    The last statement rankled, because it happened to be true. In the absence of other work, he managed the accounts for Fetter
     Lane’s Nonconformist chapel, although it took only a few hours each week and the pay barely covered the rent. Puritans, so
     numerous and powerful during the Commonwealth, were becoming an ever-dwindling minority as people shifted back to traditional
     Anglicanism, and few sensible folk had anything to do with them. If Chaloner had not been so desperate, he would not have
     done, either, and leaving the Puritans’ employ was yet another reason why he hoped Thurloe would help him.
    ‘What kind of clerk?’ asked Leybourn.
    Chaloner was not about to admit to a link with an unpopular sect. ‘A household clerk.’
    ‘Whose household?’ pressed Leybourn. He tapped his chin with a long forefinger. ‘Not Downing’s? You said you have been in
     Holland, and he is recently returned from there.’
    ‘Then he predicted the collapse of the Commonwealth and became a Royalist,’ elaborated Robert. ‘However, no one likes a turncoat,
     not even one who turns to the King.’
    He spat, leaving Chaloner wondering whether he had been cornered by a pair of rebels. Or were they Cavaliers, hired to ferret
     out potential traitors by encouragingseditious talk? He listened to their dialogue uneasily, heartily wishing he had a better understanding of affairs in his
     native country.
    ‘And in order to prove himself, he did that unspeakably nasty thing which shocked Dutchmen and Englishmen alike,’ added Leybourn.
     Chaloner kept his expression neutral: Downing’s controversial action the previous March was certainly not something he was
     prepared to discuss with strangers. ‘It meant he and his household were obliged to leave The Hague rather abruptly. Are we
     right, Heyden? Is Downing your master?’
    After a moment’s reflection, Chaloner opted for honesty again: he did not want to be reported as a suspicious character by
     declining to answer, and Leybourn was too astute for brazen lies.
    ‘I worked for Downing,’ he admitted, watching the bookseller’s triumphant grin that he had been right. ‘But he did not need
     a Dutch-speaking clerk in London, so I was released.’
    ‘Consider yourself fortunate. No decent man should align himself with such a villain.’
    ‘No,’ agreed Chaloner fervently. ‘He should not.’
    ‘You do not like him?’ asked Robert keenly.
    Since very few people liked Downing, especially once they had met him, Chaloner had no qualms about voicing his real opinion
     of the man. ‘I do not. He dismissed me without testimonials, because he said I was untrustworthy.’
    ‘Why did he think that?’ asked Leybourn curiously.
    Chaloner shrugged. ‘Well, I did carry on with his daughter’s governess for a couple of years.’
    ‘Did you wed her?’ asked Robert, brazenly prying now. ‘Or were you just trying to annoy a man who prideshimself on being able to seduce any wench who takes his fancy?’
    ‘She still comes to me most nights,’ replied Chaloner evasively.
    ‘She will not take you, because you are poor,’