The Sign of the Gallows

by Susanna Calkins

  ‘No need to fret,’ Cook replied, wiping her flour-covered hands on her skirts. To her surprise, Lucy found herself enfolded in a meaty hug. ‘You do us all proud. Indeed, you honour Mistress Hargrave’s memory by wearing this dress so well.’

  Even as Lucy smiled at the compliment, she could almost hear her mother whispering in her ear, admonishing her not to gaze too long into a looking glass. No need to invite the Devil in, she’d say.

  Annie stepped into the kitchen then. ‘The Wallaces have already arrived. I just poured out the sherry,’ she said. ‘Oh, Lucy! You look so bonny. Shall I bring you in? I’ll say it all fancy-like, won’t I just?’

  Taking in their eager faces, Lucy began to breathe faster. What am I doing here in Mistress Hargrave’s old dress? I was once their servant! Have I forgotten my station? For a moment, she wanted to turn around and head back to Master Aubrey’s and tell them it had all been a mistake. That she hadn’t been expected to dine with them at all. That she should be back in the kitchen with the other servants. Then she thought of Master Hargrave, sending her the invitation. Of Adam bringing it to her. She straightened her back and nodded to Annie. ‘Lead the way, if you would. Pray, just don’t overdo it.’

  Sombrely, Annie led her down the corridor and opened the door to the drawing room where the others awaited. ‘Miss Lucy Campion,’ she announced, as if introducing Lucy to a royal court.

  Oh, the airs Annie is putting on, Lucy thought, feeling a bit chagrined. Whatever will they think of me?

  Both the Hargraves were looking at her warmly. The magistrate’s smile widened when he recognized the blue dress. She relaxed a bit when she saw how pleased he appeared. ‘Welcome, Lucy,’ he said, extending his hand. ‘Allow me to introduce you to my old friend and his wife, Professor and Mrs Neville Wallace.’ He spoke easily as if it were common practice to introduce his former servant to his invited guests. When she inclined her head, he continued. ‘This is Lucy Campion, who is another family friend. She works for Master Aubrey, printer and bookseller, and I believe she has brought some tracts for you that you might wish to peruse after supper. Is that correct, Lucy?’

  She nodded, murmuring a pleasantry. Master Hargrave then poured her a glass of sherry, although there was a fatherly warning in his eye as he handed it to her. Take care to not overly imbibe, she could almost hear him say. She smiled and nodded back at him, taking just a small sip to show she understood. The fearsome introductions done, Lucy was now able to steal glances at the Hargraves’ guests.

  Professor Wallace looked to have at least fifteen years on his wife, maybe more, with a distinguished face and upright though slightly stout figure. She looked to be about thirty, with reddened cheeks and curly brown hair messily pulled into an unruly bun. Did she not have a lady’s maid? Lucy could not help but wonder. Even though she’d never styled hair with ease, she would have been mortified if she’d let Mistress Hargrave or Sarah out with such unkempt hair.

  At the same time, seeing that Mrs Wallace was not perfectly coiffed helped Lucy to feel more at ease in the setting. Professor Wallace also looked as if he lacked a manservant, for his clothes were all a bit rumpled, and there might even have been a hole under one arm. Indeed, he looked as if he was hardly paying attention to what was going on around him, appearing deep in thought. Perhaps that’s how mathematicians are, Lucy thought.

  ‘I’m sure my husband will appreciate the chance to review new tracts, although I’m rather afraid we will lose him entirely if we give them to him now.’ Mrs Wallace smiled conspiratorially at Lucy.

  ‘It is Lucy,’ Adam added, ‘who has brought the puzzle for you to examine.’

  Professor Wallace blinked. ‘Ah, so. Looking forward to it, my dear lass.’

  Mrs Wallace gave her a bright glance. ‘I simply cannot wait to hear this story.’

  ‘Lucy excels at telling stories,’ Adam said, his unexpected fervour making Lucy blush.

  ‘Is that so?’ Mrs Wallace said, looking from one to the other.

  When Annie called them to supper and Adam seated Lucy next to himself, Mrs Wallace’s speculation grew even more thoughtful.

  ‘Have you known one another long?’ she asked.

  Annie, who’d been ladling leek soup into each bowl, giggled. Lucy gave her a warning glance. ‘A good while,’ she replied, not sure what else to say. She changed the subject. ‘Have you lived in London long? I understand you used to live in Cambridge.’

  ‘Not for some time, although I do miss my scholar’s life,’ Professor Wallace said. ‘I lived in Cambridge many years before I met my wife; she but a few. King Charles asked me to return, so that he might seek my counsel on matters of state from time to time.’ Spoken by another man, his statement would have been the words of a braggart, but he uttered them with a matter-of-fact explanatory air. ‘I don’t know if it was a blessing or a curse that we moved back to the city after the plague had already passed, but before the fire.’

  ‘Thankfully, the fire never reached our residence,’ Mrs Wallace said, clasping her hands together. ‘We were out on the Thames watching the blaze, ready to pay the oarsmen a hefty sum to take us over to Southwark. Then the great miracle occurred, and the flames turned back in on themselves, praise be the Lord.’ She looked around at everyone and smiled. ‘Although some neighbours fled and others returned, we’ve made a home here since. Neville has forged a circle of scholars and tutors to amuse him. Musicians, scientists, poets – those sorts. Every so often, they join us for some good cheer and lively discourse, those ideas that are not readily consumed by others.’ She looked eagerly at the Hargraves. ‘You must join us one evening. I am sure you will be diverted.’

  Master Hargrave and Adam both inclined their heads graciously at the offer. Mrs Wallace’s eyes flicked over to Lucy. ‘You would all be very welcome.’

  Lucy bowed her head, hiding her surprise at the generous invitation. She took the tiniest sip of her wine, enjoying the warmth and patter of the conversation around her. For a short time, the Wallaces and the Hargraves chatted about different topics. An amusing observation by Sam Pepys. The planned rebuilding of London. Some news of King and Court. The latest theatrical productions at the Swan and Globe.

  All the while, Lucy toyed with the pocket resting on her lap, thinking about the cipher inside. She wished she could pull it out and ask Professor Wallace to decipher it then and there. But instead they all engaged in everyday, mundane chatter. There’s a murderer on the loose, she wanted to shout, but instead she smiled and occasionally murmured a pleasantry.

  As the initial conversations began to wane, Mrs Wallace turned to Master Hargrave. ‘Tell us, Thomas. How does Sarah fare?’ she asked, setting down her spoon. ‘I had hoped to meet your lovely daughter this evening. My husband mentioned her, but could provide few of the details that we women so adore to hear, of course. Is she with relatives? Don’t tell me she’s abroad this time of year?’

  The magistrate’s smile faded slightly, and Adam leapt in to answer. His response was direct and unvarnished. ‘My sister Sarah is pursuing her conviction and faith in the Lord, in the Quaker way. She is in the Massachusetts Bay Colony now, following the Inner Light.’

  He set his fork down, regarding the Wallaces steadily. If they were stunned that the magistrate’s only daughter had turned Quaker, they hid it well.

  ‘I see,’ Mrs Wallace murmured, while Professor Wallace took another bite of the braised pork dish that Cook had so carefully prepared.

  ‘I am of the mindset that following one’s conscience in matters of religion is a good thing,’ Professor Wallace replied, ‘so long as it does not bring about unnecessary disorder. I do not like the chaos that such radicals have wrought.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Master Hargrave replied. Lucy could see that his knuckles had whitened slightly. Only someone who knew the magistrate well would know that he was upset by the professor’s comment.

  ‘Perhaps, Professor,’ Adam said, turning to their guests, ‘you might enlighten us on the subject of se
cret writing.’

  ‘That topic, I fear, may take us all the way into dessert,’ Mrs Wallace said, giving her husband a tender smile. ‘My husband is likely to talk until told to stop.’

  ‘Such a fascinating topic,’ Professor Wallace said, setting down his fork. ‘In the ancient world, the Romans and Greeks had wondrous methods to cover their writing. They might write their plans on cloth or wood and then cover them with wax. Later, the recipient would simply scrape the wax off, allowing them to read the message.’

  ‘Seems dangerous – so easily discovered,’ Master Hargrave commented.

  ‘I agree. However, they also had many more ingenious methods, those ancients,’ Professor Wallace said. ‘Herodotus tells us of a king who shaved a courier’s head to ink a message. They waited until his hair grew back, and then the courier was sent through enemy territory with the hidden message intact! Suffice it to say, most secret communications would suffer under such a prolonged test of time.’

  Master Hargrave clucked his tongue. ‘Indeed.’

  ‘Tell them about the ink from plants, dear,’ Mrs Wallace said. To Lucy she added, ‘I’m sure you’ll be intrigued.’

  ‘Ah, the inks!’ Professor Wallace said, then took a deep swallow of his Rhenish wine. ‘Certain plants contain juices that allow writing to be made virtually invisible until gently warmed. Pliny the Elder would use the milk-like liquid of the Tithymalus plant to write messages, because it dried clear.

  ‘Difficult to use on a printing press,’ Lucy murmured to herself, thinking of the way the ink was spread across the type. ‘It would never hold.’

  Catching her comment, Professor Wallace chuckled. ‘Nay, this ink would only be used with a quill, of that much I’m certain. Although I’m fascinated by the idea of an entire pamphlet printed in secret ink! Everyone would think they are purchasing plain paper!’

  ‘Didn’t della Porta, the Italian scientist, also have a form of secret writing?’ Adam asked. ‘As I recall, it was quite fantastical.’

  ‘Fantastical indeed,’ Professor Wallace replied, rubbing his hands together. ‘Yes, della Porta somehow discovered that one might pen a message using a mixture of alum and vinegar, on to the shell of a hard-boiled egg. The ink, invisible to our eye, would permeate the shell. Only when the egg was cracked and the shell removed would the message be revealed upon the boiled egg’s albumen.’

  ‘That is truly amazing,’ Master Hargrave said.

  ‘We have very much advanced our understanding of hidden writing over time. Now it is no longer just a question of steganography, which is what we call concealed writing. Now we think more about cryptography, or scrambled writing,’ Professor Wallace said, bringing his goblet to his lips but not taking a sip. ‘Many of them have a pure mathematical solution. Those are indeed the most elegant, the most beautiful.’

  Mrs Wallace smiled indulgently at her husband before looking around at the others. ‘As you can see, my husband has been in love with all things mathematical since he was exposed to the late William Oughtred’s Clavis Mathematicae as a young man.’

  Beside her, Adam murmured in Lucy’s ear, ‘The Key to Mathematics.’

  ‘The art of deciphering is more than just the beauty of a mathematical solution,’ Professor Wallace said. ‘Recall, if you will, the case of Mary Queen of Scots. In an earlier age, the cipher she used to communicate with that traitor Anthony Babington might not have been broken in time. Babington’s rebellion might well have been successful. We could have had a damned Papist on the throne today!’

  Lucy’s eyes widened. Her knowledge of history was a bit scant, particularly since it was still frowned upon to speak so much of the doomed Scottish queen, though her great-grandson Charles II currently occupied the throne.

  ‘Indeed,’ Master Hargrave murmured. ‘I recall something of these details. The Scottish queen and Babington had been communicating in secret, trying to incite a rebellion against Queen Elizabeth. When the plot was discovered, he and his fellow plotters were drawn and quartered. Mary denied any knowledge of the plot until the secrets of their correspondence were exposed, and she was executed as well.’

  ‘The cipher was simple, but their use of it was truly careless,’ Professor Wallace said, with a slight sniff. ‘They brought about their own misfortune.’

  Lucy glanced at the professor curiously. He almost sounded disappointed that the cipher had been broken. Perhaps recognizing how his words sounded, Professor Wallace continued, ‘They had too much confidence in themselves and in their cipher.’ He shook his head. ‘The plotters wrote out their plans in detail, overly secure in their belief that the cipher could not be cracked. They might have, for example, done a double substitution or used transposition. Although I suppose such a thing was not truly understood until Vigenère published his Treatise on Secret Writing a short time later.’

  ‘My understanding of the case was that they called in a linguist to decipher the messages,’ Master Hargrave said.

  ‘Yes, that is so. Those treacherous plotters completely underestimated the skill of Phelippes, who apparently cracked the cipher very quickly.’

  ‘As I recall, Mary was not implicated in the plot, at least not at first,’ Adam said.

  Professor Wallace nodded. ‘That is so. It was Lord Walsingham, Elizabeth’s spymaster, who advised that they wait to move on the plotters until they had evidence that Mary knew about and endorsed the plot to kill Queen Elizabeth.’ He shook his head. ‘Foolish woman. Overly confident and no doubt desperate, she confirmed the assassination, ending her message with the sign of the gallows. Her complicity in the plot was confirmed, which, of course, confirmed her fate with the henchman.’ He raised his glass. ‘Let us drink, then, to the intelligence of Phelippes, the mathematician who stopped a revolution!’

  EIGHT

  Professor Wallace pushed aside his plate with a satisfied sigh. Master Hargrave nodded at Annie who’d been waiting to serve more apple pie and cheese, should anyone want a second helping. ‘Please clear the dishes, Annie. We shall stay in here for a while.’

  Out of habit, Lucy almost stood up to help Annie clear the table and take the dirty dishes to the kitchen. Adam caught her hand under the table, effectively keeping her seated. In his smile, she remembered that she was there as the Hargraves’ guest. ‘Would you like to show them the cipher you discovered, Lucy?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, indeed. Let us see this cipher,’ Professor Wallace said, rubbing his hands together.

  Lucy withdrew the original vellum message from her pocket, and the magistrate handed his friend the flea glass. Professor Wallace moved to seat himself next to a lamp so that he could see the characters and symbols better.

  As her husband studied the paper, Mrs Wallace turned to Lucy. ‘Tell us more about how you came upon this odd thing.’

  At Master Hargrave’s nod, Lucy offered a shortened but still vivid version of the story with which she had regaled the magistrate and Adam. She left out some key details, though, including her encounter with the two grave robbers. Experience with investigations and loyalty to the constable kept her from spilling everything.

  ‘How extraordinary that the constable would just leave this in your possession,’ Mrs Wallace commented, as her husband continued to study the paper under the flea glass.

  ‘Constable Duncan knows that I am well acquainted with the Hargraves,’ Lucy explained. ‘He does not have too many other scholars in his acquaintance. Neither Doctor Larimer nor Doctor Sheridan could shed any light on it, and they suggested I bring it to the Hargraves. We made a copy, of course, which I left with him.’

  ‘We in turn determined it best to bring it to Professor Wallace,’ Adam added, inclining his head in respect. ‘Given his noted authority in the field.’

  ‘I see,’ Mrs Wallace said. ‘That does indeed make sense.’

  Breathlessly, everyone watched Professor Wallace as he examined the paper, holding it first at length and then closer to the lamp. We are watching him as if he were a street performe
r, Lucy thought. What magical trick will he perform? Indeed, he only needed a cap for coins before him to make the illusion complete.

  Finally, after studying the paper for a few minutes, he looked up. They all leaned forward.

  ‘Alas, I cannot decipher it,’ Professor Wallace said, glancing at his wife who looked disappointed. ‘The regular frequencies of common letters do not apply, at least not outwardly so. If we have the cipher key, then, of course, we should determine the message very rapidly. The sheer number of possible combinations is unfathomable, even if it can be derived mathematically.’ He tapped on the paper. ‘Despite the poor hand, I believe this cipher was devised by someone with a keen mathematical mind.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ Adam asked.

  Professor Wallace pointed at several of the odd characters they’d noted before. ‘Because of these. These may indicate nulls and doubleths, which those with less experience with ciphers would be unlikely to include.’

  ‘What are nulls and doubleths?’ Lucy asked, tasting the unfamiliar words with her tongue.

  ‘A doubleth is often used to suggest a repeated letter, such as the letter “t” in the word “letter”,’ the scholar replied.

  ‘This sounds like setting type,’ Lucy said, imagining the typeface. ‘We have blocks for double t’s and double l’s to save time, double n’s and double e’s as well. We use spacers to separate the word.’

  Professor Wallace nodded. ‘I agree. There is a similarity there, if you think of each character as a distinct entity to decipher, similar to how you would set each piece of a tract separately.’

  ‘So that makes it harder for someone to decipher a message if frequency is removed,’ Adam said, responding to the professor’s earlier remark.

  ‘Exactly,’ Professor Wallace replied. ‘Such techniques are used by cryptographers to confuse their readers and to keep the cipher from being readily broken.’ He pointed to one of the symbols. ‘This, I suspect, is a “null”. A null means no character. Such symbols may be used to hide breaks between words. Others might be symbols outside the alphabet that indicate coded words, perhaps ones that are more standard, such as “the”, “and”, “to” and “from”. They could even be given names.’