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him it would be, and if tomorrow morning or any morning, having slept on it, he changed his mind, well, he could arrange for the lawyer to be dead quickly enough. But only if that would be the better course to get the job done.
    â€˜Darcy’s somehow found out about the French Girl. He was laughing about it in the club this afternoon. This evening he was drinking heavily and started in on it among his friends, making sport of you. I thought he had been made to see sense after luncheon. He was told about how you dealt with it on your last two outings, but I guess he may have got bottle brave. He doesn’t like you Macleod and it seems he couldn’t resist the chance to do you a bad turn. I thought I’d tell you about it before someone else did and,’ he paused, ‘before you decided to do anything about it yourself.’
    There was no reaction. Bentley had hoped for one, but nothing came. Inside, Lawyer Macleod was raging. Darcy laughing at him and making others laugh, the little shit. Well, others had thought he could be made the butt of their laughter so perhaps Darcy should join them and not go back down South after all. Perhaps he should be persuaded to become another permanent resident of Boston Common’s Burying Ground.
    But Macleod made sure that nothing of his thoughts showed and when he spoke it was as if Bentley had said that it had been a nice day.
    â€˜Thank you for telling me.’
    â€˜Not at all. My concern was not for you and not particularly for Darcy. My concern springs from something more important than any duel or any death, yours or Darcy’s. I will not allow you to kill Darcy because it is my duty, duty to my country, duty to America.’ At last, thought Bentley, the man had been reached. Macleod had looked almost surprised. It had only flashed across his face, maybe his eyebrows had risen, maybe his eyes had widened, maybe his lips had moved. But however small and however fleeting, it had been there. Bentley had reached into the man and knew he had scored a hit. They were back on level terms now. No, he was on top. With men like Macleod it was all or nothing. Let there be only one tiny crack in their fine façade and they would break wide open.
    â€˜For America?’
    The calm voice was there, the set face was there, the unconcerned body was there. But it was all no good now. Macleod might look the same but he wasn’t thinking the same. Now he wanted to know, he needed to know. It wasn’t business any more. Maybe, thought Bentley, just maybe I’ve found a place where honour might mean something to this man, and honour in any man meant weakness, and weakness could always be used.
    â€˜Before I tell you anything of that, I need to be sure that you won’t kill Darcy, no matter what he knows or says.’
    Lawyer Macleod thought for a moment. He knew Bentley now had the upper hand.
    â€˜If Darcy has a slack mouth he must expect to pay for it. Business is business. If the Darcys of this world try to make fools of their betters they must be stepped on, and stepped on hard. Who could say what it might lead to if the likes of Darcy were allowed to play fast and loose with men of standing and be seen to get away with it? Would you still want to be seen doing business with me, Bentley, if I didn’t stop Darcy’s mouth. If I let people see he could walk all over me?’
    Bentley knew that the lawyer was now his. Macleod wasn’t talking, he was negotiating because he knew he was beaten. All that was left was to try and get the best terms he could. Well, thought Bentley, no harm in that, and maybe it was all for the best. After all, he wanted Macleod in one piece and working well. Yes, maybe it was better that way. If he made it too hard for him, perhaps even broke him, what use would he be? Bentley took his time. He knew now that he could afford to.
    Bentley reflected. Macleod was right about Darcy in one way. Darcy was no good as a