The very next day after telling Susannah of Sam’s trial, I found myself knocking on her door for a second time hoping she had not received a letter too. In my workshop earlier that morning, a servant had brought me a simple folded paper without a seal, my name scrawled on it in an unformed hand. I opened it with little interest, imagining a note from a shopkeeper or a tradesman chasing a bill, only to draw a sharp breath for it was not that at all. Giuseppe stared at me, frowning. ‘Leave Samuel Carter to die or die in his stead,’ I read aloud.
Leave Samuel Carter to die or die in his stead,Giuseppe snatched it from my fingers. ‘What this f*****g thing about, eh? Who write something like this s**t?’
‘That’s a very good question.’ I took it back to examine it again holding it up to the lig
