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Authors: Don Gutteridge
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was righteously bitter, politically astute, and increasingly willing to take bolder, riskier action.
“Now, Major, if you’ll take up your pen, I wish to sitback and hear Lieutenant Edwards’s report on the assassination of Councillor Moncreiff. From what Dr. Withers intimated, you were about to follow up several promising avenues as he left you.”
With the tragic business of Crazy Dan apparently closed, Marc recounted in precise detail his visit to Phineas and Sarah-Mae Kimble, his search of the attic room above the harness shop, and his discovery of Philo Rumsey’s likely involvement. Sir Francis listened without interruption, his face impassive, while Major Burns scratched away with his quill pen.
“Excellent work, Lieutenant,” Sir Francis said when Marc had finished. “Outstanding work. Sir John’s opinion of you, I see, was understated.”
“Thank you, sir, but I am afraid we’re only partway there. Until we apprehend Philo Rumsey and question him, we cannot be certain that what seems obvious is actually true.”
“It usually is, in my experience. But I take your point.”
“And while I’m pretty certain it was Rumsey who pulled the trigger, or else a close confidant, there is the puzzling question of motive. Why would an out- of- work harness- maker who prefers to hunt deer murder Councillor Moncreiff in such a public place and in such a public manner?”
“A pertinent question, eh? Especially as we are in the middle of an election campaign and the murdered man was a member of my cabinet, so to speak.”
“The possibility of this being a politically motivated killing seems likely, does it not?”
“You think the radical Reformers might be behind this atrocity?”
Marc did not reply. While he feared such a possibility for what it might do to the stability of the province, he had an even deeper fear, one that had occurred to him again as he had been making notes this morning in preparation for this interview. “Have you considered, sir, that Councillor Moncreiff may not have been the target?”
Sir Francis leaned forward and Major Burns dropped his pen. “What do you mean? You’ve just said this Philo fellow was a hunter and an expert marksman with a rifled weapon. Surely he knew at whom he was shooting.”
“Well, sir, it only occurred to me an hour ago as I was re-picturing in my mind the sequence of events just before the shot rang out.”
“And?”
“And instead of rising from your seat as you appeared about to do, you dropped a paper and bent down to retrieve it.”
No one spoke for several long seconds. Then Sir Francis laughed. “Nonsense! No one would dare assassinate the King’s representative. No British governor has ever been put at such risk, even in uncivilized places like the penal colonies of Van Diemen’s Land. It is simply unthinkable—a preposterous notion!”
“I agree, sir, that it is difficult to fathom a British subject committing such an act, but the shooter in this case is a transplanted American with brothers currently in the U.S.army.Moreover, he is poor and disaffected; he may even be deranged. God knows who might have put him up to such a desperate business.”
“All of which are relevant points, no doubt. But you are barking up the wrong tree, young man. Meantime, we do have a gentleman dead of a gunshot wound. It was Moncreiff who was actually murdered, so surely it would make sense to begin at least with the assumption that he was the intended victim and work out from that not- unreasonable position.”
“Yes, sir. I am quite prepared to do just that.”
“Good. And let’s have no more foolish talk of de facto regicide. It’s too early in the morning.” His eyes bounced momentarily.
Marc carried on. “What I propose to do, then—with your approval, of course—is to discover if there is any connection between Councillor Moncreiff and Philo Rumsey. Perhaps some action recently taken by your new Executive Council affected Rumsey or his
“Now, Major, if you’ll take up your pen, I wish to sitback and hear Lieutenant Edwards’s report on the assassination of Councillor Moncreiff. From what Dr. Withers intimated, you were about to follow up several promising avenues as he left you.”
With the tragic business of Crazy Dan apparently closed, Marc recounted in precise detail his visit to Phineas and Sarah-Mae Kimble, his search of the attic room above the harness shop, and his discovery of Philo Rumsey’s likely involvement. Sir Francis listened without interruption, his face impassive, while Major Burns scratched away with his quill pen.
“Excellent work, Lieutenant,” Sir Francis said when Marc had finished. “Outstanding work. Sir John’s opinion of you, I see, was understated.”
“Thank you, sir, but I am afraid we’re only partway there. Until we apprehend Philo Rumsey and question him, we cannot be certain that what seems obvious is actually true.”
“It usually is, in my experience. But I take your point.”
“And while I’m pretty certain it was Rumsey who pulled the trigger, or else a close confidant, there is the puzzling question of motive. Why would an out- of- work harness- maker who prefers to hunt deer murder Councillor Moncreiff in such a public place and in such a public manner?”
“A pertinent question, eh? Especially as we are in the middle of an election campaign and the murdered man was a member of my cabinet, so to speak.”
“The possibility of this being a politically motivated killing seems likely, does it not?”
“You think the radical Reformers might be behind this atrocity?”
Marc did not reply. While he feared such a possibility for what it might do to the stability of the province, he had an even deeper fear, one that had occurred to him again as he had been making notes this morning in preparation for this interview. “Have you considered, sir, that Councillor Moncreiff may not have been the target?”
Sir Francis leaned forward and Major Burns dropped his pen. “What do you mean? You’ve just said this Philo fellow was a hunter and an expert marksman with a rifled weapon. Surely he knew at whom he was shooting.”
“Well, sir, it only occurred to me an hour ago as I was re-picturing in my mind the sequence of events just before the shot rang out.”
“And?”
“And instead of rising from your seat as you appeared about to do, you dropped a paper and bent down to retrieve it.”
No one spoke for several long seconds. Then Sir Francis laughed. “Nonsense! No one would dare assassinate the King’s representative. No British governor has ever been put at such risk, even in uncivilized places like the penal colonies of Van Diemen’s Land. It is simply unthinkable—a preposterous notion!”
“I agree, sir, that it is difficult to fathom a British subject committing such an act, but the shooter in this case is a transplanted American with brothers currently in the U.S.army.Moreover, he is poor and disaffected; he may even be deranged. God knows who might have put him up to such a desperate business.”
“All of which are relevant points, no doubt. But you are barking up the wrong tree, young man. Meantime, we do have a gentleman dead of a gunshot wound. It was Moncreiff who was actually murdered, so surely it would make sense to begin at least with the assumption that he was the intended victim and work out from that not- unreasonable position.”
“Yes, sir. I am quite prepared to do just that.”
“Good. And let’s have no more foolish talk of de facto regicide. It’s too early in the morning.” His eyes bounced momentarily.
Marc carried on. “What I propose to do, then—with your approval, of course—is to discover if there is any connection between Councillor Moncreiff and Philo Rumsey. Perhaps some action recently taken by your new Executive Council affected Rumsey or his
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