‘We have no choice in the matter.’
‘But we do. We can cancel the performance.’
‘When we have already agreed to give it?’ said Nicholas. ‘Playbills have been printed. Word of mouth has spread our fame afar. Think how our reputation will suffer if we disappoint our audience.’
‘It will suffer far more if we offer them the botched piece we saw at rehearsal this afternoon. I was ashamed to be involved in such horror.’
‘Then help to turn it into an acceptable performance.’
‘Time is against us.’
‘I disagree, Edmund. It’s our greatest asset. Look at Owen,’ said Nicholas, indicating the Welshman. ‘He knows how little time he has to con his part and that inspires him to work at it all the harder. It is so with our fellows. I, too, had doubts about them when I walked in here — then I remembered that we have less than sixteen hours to pull the play together. When we get to the Guildhall tomorrow, there’ll be no room for grief or anguish. The company will respond as Owen has done.’
‘The play will not be the same without Lawrence.’
‘We thought it would not be the same without Barnaby yet we gave a rousing performance of it at Maidstone. The mayor loved it. When did we last earn five pounds when we were out on the road? And that’s another consideration, Edmund,’ he went on. ‘Cancel the performance and we lose both face and money. Fill the Guildhall tomorrow afternoon and we stand to replenish our coffers.’
Hoode was despondent. ‘That may be so, Nick. But no matter how much we earn, it will not atone for the loss of Lawrence.’
‘I grant you that,’ said Nicholas, ‘but imagine how pleased he will be when he comes back and finds that we have abided by our contract to play and swelled our funds.’
‘When he comes back? Do you honestly believe that he will?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Then you are the only one of us here that does.’
‘I think not. Owen is of the same opinion as me.’
‘Even though you drew a blank with Conway’s Men?’
‘That left us chastened but not downhearted,’ explained Nicholas. ‘I was too hasty in singling out Tobias Fitzgeoffrey as the culprit. I reason thus. Two people who are linked to Westfield’s Men have been murdered. Fortunatus Hope was the first and Giddy Mussett, the second. Both were left where they would be found so that their fates would act as a warning to us. That is why Master Hope was killed at the Queen’s Head and not in some more private place. It was a visible blow against us.’
‘Nothing could have been more visible than Giddy’s death.’
‘It was meant to frighten, Edmund.’
‘It succeeded.’
‘Yes,’ said Nicholas, ‘but how much more upsetting would Lawrence’s death be? Suppose that we had found him lying in a stable with a dagger in his back? We would all have been distraught. Do you follow my argument?’
‘Very closely, and it brings me some relief.’
‘Good.’
‘Had Lawrence been murdered, his killer would have dangled his body in front of us to cause us real terror. Since that has not happened, there is a chance that Lawrence is still alive.’ His brow furrowed. ‘But why, Nick? Why spare him when his death would throw us into disarray?’
‘I can only guess. Whoever kidnapped him thought that his disappearance would be enough to halt us in our tracks. But that is not the case.’
‘I know,’ said Hoode, suddenly alarmed. ‘We are pressing on in spite of his loss. Could that not be dangerous for Lawrence?’
‘It is what he would expect of us.’
‘Not if it imperils his life.’
‘We’ve no means of knowing that it will.’
‘But it’s a possibility, Nick. Look at the situation. Lawrence is snatched from us in order to prevent us from playing again in Dover. If we ignore the message, will they not simply kill Lawrence in order to give us a starker warning?’
‘It’s a risk,’ admitted Nicholas, ‘but we have to take it.’
‘I’m not sure that we should.’
‘We must, Edmund. Our intentions have been made clear. Instead of giving up in the face of fear, we struggled on at the Guildhall this afternoon. That will not have gone unnoticed. If our decision endangered Lawrence’s life, his dead body would have turned up by now. Yet it has not. He’s still alive,’ he continued, ‘and that means we have a chance to rescue him.’
‘I wish that I had your confidence.’
‘You share my love for the company. Let that carry you through.’
Hoode was reassured. ‘You are right,’ he said. ‘We must perform the play.’
‘It will have another virtue.’
‘And what is that?’
‘It will bring our enemy out into the daylight again,’ said Nicholas. ‘I think that we’ve been watched ever since we set out from London. We know that the killer was in the audience at the Queen’s Head. I suspect that he’s seen every performance that we have so far given on tour. If we take to the boards at the Guildhall tomorrow, he’ll probably be hidden away among the other spectators.’
‘Wondering who his next victim will be,’ said Hoode with a shiver.
‘No, Edmund. Realising that he’ll not stop us.’
Nicholas stayed long enough to share a light supper with his friend and did his best to still Hoode’s apprehensions. As a courtesy, the book holder then went to Gill’s room to explain what happened on their visit to Conway’s Men. Before he could even tap on the door, however, he saw George Dart backing out of the room on tiptoe. Dart closed the door behind him and raised a finger to his lips to signal the need for silence. Nicholas took him to the other end of the passageway before he spoke.
‘Is he asleep, George?’
‘Yes,’ said Dart. ‘He was very tired.’
‘I know that he’s in pain.’
‘He never shows it in front of the others but it is different when we are alone. Every time he moves his leg, he’s in agony. Master Gill drinks wine to deaden the pain.’ He smiled hopefully. ‘Did you find what you were after, Nick?’
‘Unhappily, no. It was a false trail.’
Dart’s face fell. ‘Like all of the others.’
‘We’ll keep looking, George.’
‘And so will I.’
‘Your task is to take care of Barnaby.’
‘That does not stop me joining in the search,’ said the willing Dart. ‘When I wheeled Master Gill back from the Guildhall, I was as vigilant as any of them. And I all but stumbled on a clue that nobody else had found.’
‘A clue?’ asked Nicholas with interest.
‘That’s what I thought it might be at the time.’
‘And now?’
‘I was probably misled by him.’
‘By whom, George?’
‘It does not matter now. Master Gill told me to forget the man.’
‘What man?’
‘A beggar in the street.’
‘Go on. Tell me what happened.’
‘Well,’ said Dart, biting at a fingernail, ‘the poor wretch looked so miserable, sitting in a doorway like a stray dog, that I took pity on him. I stopped to give him a coin even though Master Gill chided me for doing so. The beggar was very grateful. He asked who I was and what I was doing in Dover. When I told him that I belonged to Westfield’s Men and that we were looking for Master Firethorn, he said that he could help me, if only I was to put more money into his palm. But I had none left to give.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘What I was told to do by Master Gill. He ordered me to wheel him back here and told me that I was a fool to listen to the fellow.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he was telling a lie.’
‘Was that the impression that you got?’
‘No, Nick. I felt that he was in earnest. But Master Gill insisted that it was only a ruse to get more money out of me. If I gave the beggar a bag of gold, he said, I’d get nothing but falsehood out of him.’
‘Who knows?’
‘Master Gill was certain that the man was deceiving me.’