are strongest, I’ve found, when runaway sales are making one’s business a lot of money.
A league of enthusiastic Adjoints, and so much of the recherché being complete, notwithstanding, I insisted that I spend time with the condemned in the days before their hanging, and that I must accompany them on the procession from Newgate to Tyburn. The former was accomplished thanks to friends of mine among the jailors, and (less frequently) to disguises. (I was barred from Newgate.) My presence on the parade from Newgate to Tyburn was less a problem: All six of the condemned expressed a wish for me to accompany them, and such execution day wishes are, where within reason, always granted.
The six Accounts were attributed to me in print. They sold even better than the previous eight, and created more Adjoints. Good news was sparse beyond that. Debilitating fines were leveled at Robert Spencer – his protestations of ignorance ineffective. As often happened under such circumstances, my friend shuttered his doors, probably before paying anything. He has opened a new house, using a new name.
Worse, much worse, was to have someone dear to me jailed on charges arising from her leadership in acts of sedition against the Crown. Shortly after the latest six Accounts hit the streets, I dutifully sought out Mme. Graveau to settle my bill from my most recent “creative period.” I was shocked to learn that she, Mme. Graveau, had been arrested! I was stupefied. It seemed she did indeed “tell everybody” that I wrote at her tavern – and of late, I soon learned, she told them why my work there was so important to liberty and to all free Englishmen, not just criminals. The ranks of the Adjoints swelled just as much because of her recruitment efforts as because of my writing –