‘I have an apartment there, true. It’s one of my privileges.’
‘What do you do to earn those privileges, Master Olgrave?’
‘I run the workhouse honestly and capably with my partner.’
‘Yes,’ said Nicholas, ‘I’ve spoken with Master Beechcroft.’
‘Oh? To what end, may I ask?’
‘I’ve been commissioned by a lawyer to track down a man who has come into an unexpected inheritance. He’s much in need of it, too, for the last I heard of him, he was sent to Bridewell as a punishment.’
‘We provide work as well as correction. Who is this man you seek?’
‘His name Hywel Rees.’
‘No,’ said Olgrave without a flicker. ‘I do not recall the fellow.’
‘Master Beechcroft knew him instantly.’
‘Then why do you come to me? If Joseph recognises the name, speak to him. Had I met him, I think I’d remember someone called Hywel Rees, but I do not.’
‘What of Dorothea Tate?’
‘What of her?’ replied Olgrave, easily. ‘The name is new to me.’
‘She was a friend of Hywel Rees, and also sent to Bridewell.’
‘You seem to know more about our inmates than I do, Master Bracewell. Do you have any more names to scatter before me or may I continue on my way?’
Nicholas paused. Ralph Olgrave had more self-possession than his partner. Unlike Joseph Beechcroft, his expression did not betray his thoughts. The same complacent smile had played around Olgrave’s lips from the start. Nicholas could not remove it.
‘How often are your inmates discharged?’ he said.
‘As often or as seldom as we wish.’
‘I learn that Hywel Rees was thrust out after only a short time in Bridewell.’
‘You’ve learnt more than me,’ said Olgrave. ‘My partner signs the discharge papers. I’ve no knowledge of this man or of his release.’
‘Dorothea Tate was let out more recently.’
‘Then she’ll have vanished back into the eternal army of beggars who besiege the capital. Bridewell does a valuable service, my friend.’
‘Does it?’
‘We try to sweep the streets clean of vagrants so that worthy citizens like you can walk them with safety.’
‘How much safety do the vagrants have once inside Bridewell?’
‘There’s only one way for you to find out.’
‘Is there?’
‘Yes,’ said Olgrave with a teasing grin. ‘Come there as our guest. All you have to do is to live on the streets and beg for your food, and we’ll be pleased to invite you to our table. We may need to whip you first but I see you have a broad back that will survive the punishment. Nicholas Bracewell, is it?’ he went on, looking him up and down. ‘Now, that’s one name I will remember. Adieu, good sir.’
Olgrave raised his hat in mock farewell, then sauntered off down the street. Nicholas watched him go. He had not been able to penetrate the man’s smugness but he was nevertheless glad of the encounter. It showed him what he was up against. Having met Joseph Beechcroft, he was more than ready to accept Dorothea’s assessment that the man was a devil, but he remembered what she had said about his partner. In her view, Ralph Olgrave was even worse. As he saw the jaunty figure moving away from him, Nicholas had no difficulty in believing it.
‘Saints preserve us!’ exclaimed Adam Crowmere. ‘How on earth did this happen?’
‘I put that same question to you,’ said Firethorn, angrily. ‘Do you not keep your doors locked at night?’
“Tis an article of faith with me. I check them myself before I retire to bed.’
‘And was the door to our wardrobe secure?’
‘Completely. I remember trying the latch.’
‘What time was that?’
‘Around midnight, as I recall.’
‘Then our thief came calling in the darkness.’
Summoned by Firethorn, the landlord gaped at the half-empty room where the costumes had been stored. Elias and Ingram had withdrawn but Hugh Wegges, as the tireman, lingered at the door. Crowmere ran a worried hand across his brow.
‘This is a tragedy, Lawrence,’ he said. ‘What must you think of me?’
‘That depends on whether or not you were at fault.’
‘I wish that I were, then we’d have an answer to this riddle. Only two keys will open that door. I have one of them and the other is kept by your tireman here.’
‘It never leaves my belt,’ said Wegges.
‘Then my key must have done the damage,’ admitted Crowmere, ‘unless this is the work of some cunning picklock. But how would he know what was in the room? He would hardly worm his way in there at random.’
Firethorn was rumbling with suppressed fury. ‘This crime was planned,’ he said. ‘The thief knew where to come and what to steal. Our costumes are our livelihood, Adam. Take those away and we are plain men, shorn of any authority.’
‘Some are left, Lawrence. There’s comfort in that.’
‘Only if I wish to lower myself to play the part of a beggar, a headsman or a common soldier. Look here,’ he said, picking up a leather apron. ‘This is worn by a blacksmith in Cupid’s Folly. Will I be reduced to wearing that? How can I play a king or an emperor or a cardinal in a leather apron? I’d be a laughing stock. My father was a blacksmith, Adam,’ he explained, tossing the apron aside, ‘and I worked hard to escape the forge. I swear, I’ll not go back to it.’
‘Can you put an exact price on the loss?’ asked Crowmere.
‘Some items were gifted to us,’ said Wegges. ‘We did not have to buy them.’
‘What of those you did have to purchase?
‘Fifty pounds would come nowhere near covering the cost.’
The landlord gulped. ‘I can see why it cuts so deep. Well, let me offer some balm at least for your wound. Fifty pounds is too much for me to spare but I’ll insist you take five at least by way of consolation.’
‘The only consolation I seek is to find the villain who did this,’ said Firethorn. ‘It must be someone who frequents the Queen’s Head and knows where our wardrobe is.’
‘He also knows where I keep my keys, Lawrence, for he may have borrowed one when my back was turned. Yes,’ he said, pensively, ‘that may be it. Some light-fingered varlet must have taken the key and had a replica made. That way, he could get into the room at will.’ His eyebrows formed a chevron. ‘Let me speak to my servants. One of them may be able to enlighten us.’
‘One of them may be the culprit,’ said Firethorn.
‘If that’s the case, I’ll tear him limb from limb.’
‘Leave his entrails to me, Adam. I’ll roast them over a fire.’
‘What am I to do now?’ asked Wegges, tamely. ‘Am I to lock the door again?’
‘When there is nothing left worth stealing? No, Hugh. Search the place for clues. Talk to all who haunt the taproom to see if they can help. We’ll get those costumes back somehow. And when we do,’ said Firethorn, ‘you’ll sleep outside this door all night.’
Henry Cleaton sat back in his chair and chewed on the stem of a pipe that had no tobacco in it. After hearing all that his visitor had to say, he removed the pipe to speak.
‘You found no more than I expected, Nicholas,’ he said.
‘Two arrant knaves, who revel in their wickedness.’
‘I doubt if they will revel in it today. You ruffled their feathers.’
‘I may have done so with Master Beechcroft,’ said Nicholas, ‘but his partner must have ice in his veins. He remained cool to the end. Had I gone there with Dorothea on my arm, Ralph Olgrave would not have turned a hair.’
‘That’s because he feels secure in his villainy, and he’s right to do so.’
‘But we have a witness.’
‘He’ll find a dozen willing witnesses, whose voices will drown out anything that Dorothea Tate has to say. Look not to her, Nicholas. Certain proof is needed.’
‘We know that a feast was held in Bridewell, and that visitors were entertained by prostitutes imprisoned there. Is that not in defiance of the contract they have to run the institution?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Cleaton.
‘Could they not be arraigned for keeping a disorderly house?’