‘Yes,’ said Firethorn, ‘I bearded him in his den. What a peculiar fellow he is! Have you ever known a card player who reads the Bible on a Sunday? That’s what he was doing when I called upon him. He looked more like a saint than a sinner.’
‘What did you say to him?’
‘What I planned to do, Nick. I told him that he was distracting our fellows and causing a deal of misery. His answer was that they came to his table of their own accord, and that he had no power to stop them.’
‘He said as much to me.’
‘Did you know that James Ingram won a lot of money last night?’ Nicholas shook his head. ‘It convinced me that the man was no rogue. Philomen Lavery can lose as easily as he can win, it appears.’
‘He’s no real threat to us,’ said Nicholas. ‘He’ll be quitting the city later this week so he’ll not be able to inflict much more harm.’
‘That’s why I drew back from condemning him too harshly.’
‘We’ll soon forget all about him.’
Firethorn was wistful. ‘Yes, I suppose that we will.’ His mind wandered for a moment, then he became aware of Nicholas again. ‘But why were you so anxious to catch me today?’
‘To ask a favour of you.’
‘You know that I would never refuse you.’
‘This is a big favour,’ said Nicholas. ‘I may need to absent myself for a while.’
‘But how can you do that when we rely on you so much?’
‘Hear me out. We do not play here tomorrow, and on Tuesday we present Love and Fortune. George Dart can hold the book for that with his eyes closed.’
‘George does everything with his eyes closed,’ growled Firethorn. ‘That’s why he keeps bumping into things and breaking them. But why do you need to leave us, Nick? You must have a reason.’
‘A pressing one. In brief, I must help to solve a murder.’
He gave Firethorn a concise account of what had happened and explained how he and Elias had become involved. The actor showed some compassion but he was not persuaded that his book holder should be spared to take part in an investigation.
‘This is not your quarrel, Nick,’ he argued. ‘Keep out of it. Westfield’s Men must come first. Let officers of the law look into these matters.’
‘They would not bother to do so. Who cares about the death of a vagrant? Whether from disease, starvation or violent assault, beggars like Hywel Rees end up in the morgue all the time. Murder a wealthy man,’ said Nicholas, ‘and a hue and cry is set up. Kill a poor one and he vanishes into oblivion.’
‘My fear is that you and Owen will vanish into oblivion.’
‘You lose me alone. Owen will be here to play in Love and Fortune.’
‘But Edmund will not,’ said Firethorn. ‘That means we shall have to rehearse someone else in his part. I want you there to do that, Nicholas.’
‘A moment ago, you said you’d grant me any favour.’
‘To my dear friend, I’d grant as many favours as he sought. But I’ve no obligation to a street girl who was arrested for begging. This favour is for Dorothea Tate, let’s be clear about that.’
‘Are you not moved by her plight?’
‘Why, yes,’ said Firethorn, defensively. ‘I’m moved by the plight of any vagrant. I often toss them a coin as I pass them by. That’s Christian charity. But I’d not turn my back on the company in order to help one of them arraign a man for stealing her virginity. The wonder is that she kept it so long.’
Nicholas was annoyed. ‘Can you treat murder and rape so lightly?’
‘No, Nick. Both are dreadful crimes. Those that commit them should be punished. But I still do not see that you should take it upon yourself to find the malefactors. To put it more plainly,’ he said, ‘why do you bother?’
‘Because I gave my word.’
‘And is that more important than your duty to Westfield’s Men?’
‘Yes,’ said Nicholas, firmly. ‘It is.’
Dorothea Tate had been so shocked to hear of the murder of Hywel Rees that she had been unable to speak for a long time. Sobbing quietly, she rocked to and fro on her seat as she contemplated a future without her dearest friend. Anne Hendrik sat beside her with a consoling arm around the girl’s shoulders. Sharing her sorrow, she tried to offer words of comfort but Dorothea did not even hear them. She was consumed by her grief. At length, the girl sat up and made an effort to pull herself together. She used a hand to brush away the tears that had coursed down her face.
‘I want to see him,’ she announced. ‘I want to see Hywel.’
‘No, Dorothea.’
‘It may not be him. Nicholas said that he could not be certain.’
‘He and Owen were as certain as they could be.’
‘But they might have made a mistake.’
‘For your sake,’ said Anne, ‘I hope that they did. In that case, Hywel is still alive and he’ll come looking for you. But you must prepare yourself for the worst.’
‘That’s what I’ve been doing.’ She straightened her back. ‘I’m ready for anything now, Anne. I want to visit the morgue. I want to see his face.’
‘You heard what Nicholas said. He’d been in the water for days. That distorts the body horribly and changes the face.’
‘I’d know him anywhere.’
‘Spare yourself the horror.’
‘It’s my right,’ insisted Dorothea. ‘Hywel was my friend.’
‘Then ask yourself this. Would he have wanted you to see him in that condition?’
The question made her pause. Doubts began to form in her mind. The girl brought a hand to her mouth as she searched for an answer. It was minutes before she turned back to Anne. There was a pleading note in her voice.
‘I have to know the truth.’
‘I fear that you already do,’ said Anne, gently.
‘What if it is not Hywel?’
‘How many young men have that scar on the nose that Nicholas described? He recognised it at once. We know that Hywel was discharged from Bridewell. There’s a record of that. Where did he go?’
‘If only I knew!’ exclaimed Dorothea.
‘From what you’ve told me about him, Hywel was loyal and loving.’
‘He was like a brother that I never had.’
‘Then he would never dream of leaving you,’ said Anne. ‘However long it took, he would have waited until you were let out as well. Is that not so?’
‘Yes. He swore he’d look after me.’
‘Only one thing would stop him from doing that, Dorothea.’
The girl stared unseeingly ahead of her as she tried to fend off the truth of what she had just heard. She clung to the hope that Hywel might still be alive but her grasp was slowly weakening. In the end, after a long interval, her body sagged as she accepted the fact that her friend must be dead. She turned to Anne.
‘I think that I’m ready to sleep now,’ she murmured.
Edmund Hoode was also ready to sleep but the arrival of Nicholas Bracewell helped him to shake off his drowsiness at once. He sat up in the bed with a smile of relief.
‘I feared that you’d forgotten me today.’
‘I could never do that,’ said Nicholas, lowering himself on to a chair beside the bed. ‘I remembered you in my prayers at church and I came as soon as I could.’
‘You must have had a busy day, then.’
‘It has kept me occupied, Edmund.’
Nicholas gave no details. Hoode was a sick man who should not be burdened with additional anxieties. If he told his friend about the investigation on which he had embarked, Nicholas knew that the softhearted playwright would worry incessantly about what became of Dorothea Tate. He was not strong enough to cope with such tidings.
‘Lawrence tells me that you were up and about this morning,’ said Nicholas.
‘Yes, Nick. I felt better than I had for a week or more.’
‘And now?’
‘I was fading badly when you came,’ said Hoode. ‘Doctor Zander warned me that the disease would ebb and flow like the sea.’ He laughed grimly. ‘Perhaps that is why I feel seasick most of the time.’
‘I think the time may have come to seek another opinion on your health.’