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The problem of where I was to lay my head was solved, however, and most strangely, in the following way.

I made three appearances in A City Pleasure, two of them early on, and it was after the second of these that I was approached in the tiring-house by a member of our Company, Master Robert Mink.

‘Master Revill? Are you on again soon?’

I shook my head. I wasn’t due on for the better part of an hour, to judge from the rudiments of my part I’d gleaned in that morning’s rehearsal. In fact, I thought the gaps between my appearances unduly protracted, yet at all times I was mindful of what Seneca the tragedian said: ‘It is with life as it is with a play — it matters not how long the action is spun out, but how good the acting is.’ Master Mink’s chins nodded at my head-shake. He was a fat man, yet surprisingly nimble. I had seen him moments before on the stage show the young couple who were not brother and sister how to cut a London caper. Now he pushed in my direction a piece of paper which was pincered between forefinger and thumb.

‘Good. I have to enter again in a moment. Would you do me a favour, Nick?’

As a temporary member of the Company I wasn’t in a position to refuse. I looked helpful.

‘There’s a lady in one of the boxes I wish to communicate with, but not to speak to. I wonder whether you’d be so kind as to convey this note to her. It’s the seventh box along on the right. She will be the only lady there.’

Costumed as I was, I made my way up the stairs to the galleries, wondering about the contents of the sealed note. Yet not really wondering at all. Despite what Nell had said about the restraint and the marital constancy of the Chamberlain’s Men, there are always a few in any company who liked to spread their favours freely, and Master Mink had the air of one who basked in the assurance that women liked him. That is, he was fat and courtly.

The passage round the back of the gallery was empty. The doors to the boxes were shut. The quality resided here. From behind the first one came a clink of glasses and a giggle. Obviously there were other pleasures in the city than that provided by the drama unfolding down below on stage. I was taking care to count my doors, not wanting to enter in on the wrong woman, or man, when from the fourth or fifth door along two figures suddenly burst out. A fellow in a leather jerkin and loose breeches collided with the opposite wall of the narrow little passage and then cannoned into me. Being barged into was becoming a regular occurrence, and I had my dignity as a player to consider. I stuck my foot out and he fell sprawling. Behind him was another man in a short black cloak, and wearing a tall black hat.

‘Get him! Hold him!’ he hissed.

Obligingly I knelt in the small of the big fellow’s back. He groaned but made no effort to get away. Black Cloak knelt down beside me and ran his hands over the fallen man’s jerkin.

‘Ah, I thought so.’

He held up a necklace that, to my inexperienced eye, looked valuable.

‘Ungrateful bastard, Jacob,’ he said slowly and deliberately to the man who was face down on the floor. ‘And after the kindness of Sir Thomas and his lady towards you.’

The other made a gurgling sound but still said nothing. Black Cloak looked at me and my evident costume. He had a long nose which was as sharp as a razor.

‘You’re a player?’

‘I have a message to deliver.’ I was still holding Master Mink’s billet doux.

‘Never mind that. Sir Thomas will want to thank you in person for stopping this fellow from getting away.’

He urged the man to his feet, tugging at his arm. I took the other and, like a couple of constables, we escorted him back along the passage. He was a lumbering individual, with a scrawny beard, almost a head taller than I. As we neared the door of the box from which these two had so abruptly exited, Black Cloak reached up and cuffed him about the head. This seemed unnecessary since he was as docile and cowed as a whipped bear. We crowded through the entrance to the box. Two men were sitting watching the stage. Beside them sat an attractive woman with an oval face and golden hair that reminded me a little of my whore Nell’s. The dress of these individuals showed their wealth: the woman, for example, was wearing a jewel-encrusted farthingale and a low decolletage that uncovered a fine cleavage, a mode that was usually the sign of an unmarried woman. Seeing them watching the play down below, I was reminded that I was part of A City Pleasure, and no part at all of whatever was occurring among these spectators. I must return to the tiring-room within a few minutes. I cursed Master Mink for sending me to deliver the note now stuffed into a pocket. The older of the two men in the box glanced in our direction but he appeared little concerned with whatever had taken place in the box or outside in the corridor.

‘Now, Sir Thomas, he is here,’ said Black Cloak to the older of the seated men, pushing forward the bear-like fellow into the centre of the little room. At the same time he flourished the necklace in a way that I can only describe as theatrical. The woman’s hand went slowly, almost in a caress, up to her throat.

‘I saw Jacob slip this from my lady’s white neck’ — he waved the pearl necklace so that it looked like a stream of milk — ‘oh so closely while all of you were attending to the play. He’s a cunning one. He possesses subtle pickers and stealers for all his size. I saw it all from where I was standing behind you. How did he think that he would get away with it?’

In demonstration, Black Cloak seized the right hand of the larger man in his left and held it up to display to the others. I had the impression that, if he could, he would have detached each of the large man’s blunt fingers and passed them around in proof of what he was saying. Yet I could see nothing delicate in these fingers that were supposed to have stolen. I stood, uneasily, at the rear of the box, puzzled because the large man made no attempt to wrest his hand away from the other’s grasp. Nor did he speak. He merely hung, crestfallen, in the centre of this little group.

‘He saw that I had witnessed all of it,’ continued the man in the black cloak. ‘My eyes are everywhere, you know, in your service, Sir Thomas. He tried to get away. I followed him out and, by good fortune, this gentleman was coming along the passage. Our friend Jacob bumped into him and fell. I overcame him and recovered the necklace.’

Again he flourished the milky chain. The whole report was delivered in a clipped, dry style as if Black Cloak were recounting some military skirmish in which he had been modestly victorious.

‘This gentleman is one of the players,’ he added.

I bowed slightly, and gave my name. Whatever the circumstances, I saw no reason why these good folk should not be acquainted with Master Nick Revill.

None of the three occupants of the box had yet spoken. Now the one who had been addressed as Sir Thomas stood up and came forward. I was aware of the play proceeding below, the buzz of voices, the answering laughter and noises of approval from the groundlings. These boxes were designed for privacy and whatever drama was taking place here would not touch on the absorbed attention of the rest of the audience.

‘This is a sorry state of affairs, Jacob,’ said Sir Thomas, ‘and after I had kept you in my household.’

He was, like Black Cloak, shorter than Jacob and had to look up into the thief’s face. But he had an air of authority and spoke with easy assurance. I wasn’t able to judge the expression on Jacob’s face but I saw the shake of his head.

‘What’s the matter, Jacob?’ said Sir Thomas. ‘Are you trying to deny what Master Adrian is saying? Much better to come clean over this business now.’