No Good Deed 55

I had eaten but little, not for lack of opportunity, rather by reason of disinclination. Miss Shepherd had enjoyed the food more than sufficiently for both of us. It was the moment to ask her what she wanted of me, since I assumed that she had wanted more than an audience for her feats of consumption. However, she thwarted me in this and said,

'The Reverend must not get his hands on the silver. You must prevent it. You must see that the first consignment reaches St Paul, if not Canada.'
I raised an eyebrow, 'That rather presupposes that any silver can be spirited away from the mint, does it not?'

The powdered face was anything but a mask and I read there a look of bitter amusement as though I had uttered some risque drollery at the expense of her nearest relatives.

'Mr Northrup.' She showed her teeth on pronouncing the name, 'you seem to me a man who might accomplish anything, just so long as some benefit might accrue to yourself.'

'That's as may be, but I have no introduction to your accomplice in the mint, nor any means of acquiring any.'

She gave a laugh, as dull and unmusical as tapping on a cracked glass.

'Here, Mr Northrup, here is your introduction.'

The folded paper in her hand was a little damp from its hiding place next to her breast. I inhaled the musky scent. Miss Shepherd gave a shudder and placed her hand over mine,

'Take care, friend, that paper was hard come by.'

I opened it, it was a paper entitling the bearer to all co-operation necessary within the confines of the New Orleans Mint and it was signed by the Governor of the State of Louisiana.

We sat silent for a time. Finally, I asked Miss Shepherd if she were returning to the Enterprise, for it was due to leave within the hour. She shook her head.

'I must go up-river. Erastus Newberry is not a man to leave alone with any of the Railroad's assets, for too long.'

'There is money in that old church?' I coughed.

'There is a modicum of silver hidden under one of the pews, but he will never find it.' She smiled.

'What then?'

'I do not trust him with our passengers. He does not value his Negro brethren as he should.'

I laughed, 'Why is he involved with the railroad at all?'

'God moves, Mr Northrup, God moves.'

It was true that if any such being existed, his actions were certainly mysterious. I was reminded of a Yiddish proverb my late wife had taught me.

'Man plans, God laughs.'