The Luminaries

brother.’
    He used the word ‘brother’ carefully, but Lauderback, who had become excited by this new possibility, did not notice. ‘Even in that case,’ he said, ‘if Carver’s name is really Carver, then his signature is a false one, and the sale of the ship is void. I tell you, Thomas: either way we’ve got him. Either way. We’ve caught Carver in his own lie.’
    His relief had made him reckless. Balfour said, ‘So—you’re out to catch him, now?’
    Lauderback’s eyes were shining. ‘I shall expose him,’ he said. ‘I shall expose Francis Carver, and take
Godspeed
back again.’
    ‘What about the avenger?’ Balfour said.
    ‘Who?’
    ‘The fellow who was after Carver. The one who has a twinkle on you.’
    ‘Never heard a peep,’ said Lauderback. ‘I expect he made all of that up.’
    ‘You mean he didn’t kill a man?’ said Balfour, lightly. ‘You mean he’s not a murderer?’
    ‘He’s a blackguard, is what he is,’ Lauderback said. He poundedthe table. ‘A blackguard and a liar!
And
a thief! But I shall catch him on it. I shall make him pay.’
    ‘What about the elections?’ Balfour said. ‘What about Caroline?’ (This was the name of Lauderback’s wife.)
    ‘I don’t need to risk all
that
,’ Lauderback said scornfully. ‘I can do it privately. Catch him on the contract. Blackmail him—as he did me. Give him a taste of his own medicine.’
    Balfour stroked his beard, watching him. ‘Well, now.’
    ‘Carver will have destroyed his own copy of the bill of sale, most likely, if it’s proof of a lie … I suppose I’ll have to get my copy notarised, to be safe.’
    ‘Well, now,’ Balfour said again. ‘Perhaps we ought to steady up.’
    But Lauderback had sat forward in excitement. ‘There’s no need—I can begin right away!’ he exclaimed. ‘I know exactly where the contract is. It’s packed in my trunk, in that shipping crate you’re taking care of for me.’
    Balfour felt his guts clench. His face flooded red. He opened his mouth to reply—and then, in cowardice, closed it.
    ‘Has the
Virtue
been and gone already?’ Lauderback said. ‘You were expecting her last week, I think.’
    There was a roaring in Balfour’s ears. He ought to have come clean about the disappearance as soon as the two men were left alone.
Stupid
, he shouted internally,
stupid!
But could he not simply tell Lauderback the truth? It had been no man’s fault that the shipping crate had disappeared—it had been an accident, a blunder of paperwork most likely—and it would show up, sooner or later, in some unlikely situation … a little battered externally perhaps, but none the worse for wear. Surely Lauderback would understand that! If he was calm and honest in making his confession—if he admitted fault—But then
    Balfour’s heart gave a judder. There must be a correlation between the trunk in Lauderback’s story—the one packed with women’s dresses, that had made the trans-Tasman crossing every month for a year—and the trunk containing Lauderback’s effects, the fraudulent contract among them, that had so recently vanished from the Hokitika quay. There
must
be, when Balfour had never before mislaid a shipping crate, nor had one stolen, not in allhis years in the business! His heart began to pound. Francis Carver had blackmailed the politician once before; perhaps he had done so for a second time! Perhaps
Carver
had stolen the shipping crate! The man was familiar on the Hokitika docks, after all …
    Lauderback was casting his eye over the table, looking for a cold morsel; he had not noticed the change in Balfour’s demeanour, as the latter turned over this new possibility in his mind. ‘Has she been through—the
Virtue
?’ he repeated, without impatience.
    ‘No,’ said Balfour.
    The room seemed to constrict around the lie.
    ‘Not here yet?’ said Lauderback. He found a waxy onion on the plate Jock Smith had left behind and popped it into his mouth. ‘So I beat my own clipper ship—and on horseback! I wasn’t expecting that! Nothing went belly-up at sea, I hope?’
    His good humour was quite restored; he was even giddy. Such a tonic for the spirit is the promise of revenge!
    ‘No,’ Balfour said again.
    ‘She’s still in transit, you said?’
    Balfour paused a fraction of a second, then he said, ‘Ay—still in transit. That’s right.’
    ‘Coming West from Dunedin, is she? Or up and through the Strait?’
    Balfour was sweating. He watched the movement