The Counterfeit Crank Page 16

  Wegges led the way with Firethorn at his heels. Elias and Gill were also in attendance. The tireman kept their costumes under lock and key in a room adjacent to the chamber that was used as their tiring-house. When they got there, Wegges threw open the door to reveal the evidence of the crime.

  ‘See, sirs,’ he said, ‘what terrible losses we have suffered.’

  The newcomers were dumbfounded. Several of their costumes had disappeared and those that were left behind were scattered all over the floor. It was obvious from a glance that the only richest garments had been stolen. Gill let out a cry.

  ‘They’ve taken my doublet from The Merchant of Calais,’ he gasped.

  ‘And my cloak from Black Antonio,’ complained Elias.

  ‘What of my gown from The Insatiate Duke?’ said Firethorn. ‘It was a present from our patron and cost all of twenty pounds. A pox on these villains!’ he yelled. ‘They’ve taken our clothes and left us naked. Heads will roll for this.’ He looked around in despair. ‘Oh, where is Nick Bracewell when we need him most?’

  Nicholas did not hesitate. Knowing that it was important to reach Ralph Olgrave before the man’s partner did, he bounded through the streets until he came to Old Jewry. He did not even have to knock. A person he took to be Olgrave was talking to one of his servants at the threshold before departing. Nicholas had a moment to size the man up. Olgrave was older and shorter than his partner, but wider in the shoulders. Where Beechcroft had been gaunt, Olgrave was fleshy; where the one chose flamboyant apparel, the other had more sober taste. After giving instructions to his servant, Olgrave set off. Nicholas moved in to intercept him.

  ‘Master Olgrave?’ he enquired.

  ‘Yes,’ replied the other with smile. ‘Who might you be, sir?’

  ‘My name is Nicholas Bracewell and I crave a word with you.’

  ‘Do you wish to employ me in some way?’

  ‘Only to provide me with some information, Master Olgrave.’

  ‘Concerning what?’

  ‘Bridewell.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Olgrave with a chuckle. ‘Master Bracewell asks about Bridewell, does he? Visit me there, if you wish, sir,’ he went on, blithely. ‘I do not like to be interrogated on my doorstep.’

  ‘Does that mean you have something to hide?’ probed Nicholas.

  ‘Which of us does not, my friend? There’s not a man alive who does not have something in his past he wishes to stay buried. Or if there is, he’s lived a very dull life.’ He appraised Nicholas shrewdly. ‘I take you for someone who’s seen excitement in his time. That means you’ll have your share of dark secrets to conceal.’

  ‘Nothing that I’d feel ashamed about, Master Olgrave.’

  ‘Nor me. I’ve never had a twinge of guilt in my life.’

  ‘Let me come back to Bridewell.’

  ‘No, my friend,’ said Olgrave, smoothly. ‘Let me come back to Bridewell. Seek me there if you have any business with me. You’ll find me there most days.’

  ‘And some nights, too.’

  ‘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, Lawrenc
e. 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?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘You do not sound convinced, Master Cleaton.’

  ‘I’m a lawyer and the only thing that convinces me is the weight of evidence. Yet what is your evidence here?’ he asked. ‘The word of a frightened girl with a grudge against Bridewell. Yes,’ he continued before Nicholas could object, ‘I accept that she has good reason to bear a grudge but put yourself in the position of the other women in the case. Dorothea refused to join in the merriment but my guess is that those harlots were only too ready to eat, drink and oblige the gentlemen. They are locked in a workhouse, remember. What would they prefer to do, Nicholas? Make ticking for feather beds or do the work that they know best by lying on those feather beds?’

  Nicholas was forced to agree. When he called at the lawyer’s office to report on his conversations with the two men, he hoped that Cleaton would feel that definite progress had been made. All that Nicholas had actually done, however, was to satisfy himself that Dorothea’s descriptions of Beechcroft and Olgrave were accurate ones. It was one thing to jolt the former by asking if Hywel Rees might have swum back to Wales, but finding hard evidence that he was involved in the murder was quite another. Nicholas was frustrated. Slapping his thighs, he rose from his chair

  ‘They are corrupt men,’ he argued. ‘Others who used Bridewell for their own purposes were either dismissed or imprisoned. Can it not be so for them?’

  ‘Only if they are found out,’ said Cleaton. ‘In the past, wayward treasurers were caught when the account books were inspected. Beechcroft and Olgrave are too clever to be snared that way. Their accounts will be above reproach.’

  ‘Is there no way to get into Bridewell to verify the facts?’

  ‘Not without a warrant, Nicholas, and who would give us that?’

  ‘Dorothea has given me my warrant.’

  ‘I admire the sentiment, but deplore its lack of legality. Bridewell is a fortress. Inside that, Beechcroft and Olgrave are beyond our reach.’

  ‘Then we must lure them out.’

  ‘I think they’ll be more wary of Nicholas Bracewell in the future,’ said Cleaton. ‘Especially since you used the same trick as my clerk to extract information. The two men will have realised by now that you played false with them.’

  ‘To good purpose.’

  ‘Granted. But it will mean they’ll not be fooled again.’

  ‘Then I’ll have to work another way.’

  ‘If only I knew how, Nicholas. The problem with being a lawyer is that I am shackled by the law. I can only envisage legal ways of achieving my ends.’

  ‘Was it legal to ask your clerk to obtain addresses the way that he did?’

  ‘More or less,’ said Cleaton, happily. ‘We did not break the law so much as bend it slightly. In a sense, my clerk spoke the truth. Joseph Beechcroft and Ralph Olgrave were mentioned in a will. It was the unwritten testament of Hywel Rees, who bequeathed the pair of them his hatred.’

  ‘Then I’m the executor who must enforce the terms of that will.’

  ‘How do you propose to do that?’

  ‘By taking advice from Master Olgrave.’

  ‘What kind of advice?’

  ‘I’ll explain that in a moment,’ said Nicholas. ‘First, I must ask a favour of you.’

  ‘Is it within the bounds of the law?’

  ‘It could not be more so, Master Cleaton. It will appeal to a legal mind.’

  Michael Grammaticus read the play with growing excitement. He was seated at the table in Hoode’s lodging so that he could turn over the sheets of parchment more easily. The author of A Way to Content All Women sat opposite him, observing his reactions and disappointed that no laughter came from his visitor. Grammaticus came to the last page and read it through with the same grim concentration.

  ‘Oh!’ he sighed, looking up. ‘It has come to a premature end.’

  ‘Did you like the play, Michael?’

  ‘I loved every word of it. You have written a small masterpiece.’

  ‘There was not even a hint of a smile in your face.’

  ‘Inwardly, I promise you, I was all mirth. The wit and humour flow so smoothly from your pen, Edmund. There is no sense of effort.’

  ‘There was when I tried to read the play myself,’ said Hoode. ‘I got up early and forced myself to do it, but I dozed off before the end of the first act.’

  ‘No spectator would ever do so. Every speech has a sparkle to it.’ Grammaticus shook his head. ‘I’m not sure that I can emulate that.’

  ‘I’ve told you Nick’s suggestion. Write two more scenes to complete Act Four, then we can judge how well you disguise yourself as Edmund Hoode.’

  ‘The next scene, as I take it, shows Vern
on’s proposal to Maria?’

  ‘I think that’s what I intended.’

  ‘Then the act must surely end with the discovery of Will Lucifer in Rosalind’s bedchamber on the eve of her marriage to Timothy Gull.’ He tapped the parchment. ‘That’s the logical development of the comedy because it brings yet another round of misunderstandings. Is it not so, Edmund?’

  Hoode scratched his head. ‘As far as I can recall.’

  ‘Think more upon it, if you will,’ said Grammaticus. ‘I’ll need all the help that you can give me. I’ll be an apt pupil, be assured of that.’ There was a knock on the front door. ‘You have another visitor, I think. I’ll leave you alone with him while I go to the market to buy you some more fruit. Doctor Zander insists that you eat it.’

  ‘You are too kind to me, Michael.’

  ‘I could never repay what you’ve done for me.’

  He got up from the table and looked down covetously at the play again. Knuckles tapped softly on the door then Nicholas Bracewell came into the room. He exchanged warm greetings with the two playwrights. Grammaticus then excused himself and went on his way. Nicholas ran a careful eye over Hoode.

  ‘You look better than you have for weeks,’ he said.

  ‘I feel that the worst is over, Nick,’

  ‘That’s good to hear. We may not need Michael’s help with your new comedy, after all. You’ll soon be able to finish it yourself.’

  ‘Oh, I doubt that,’ said Hoode. ‘My mind is like a morass. When Michael talked just now of the characters in A Way to Content All Women, I could barely recall who they were. It was almost as if the play were not mine.’

  ‘It is, Edmund, and will always remain so.’

  ‘Michael has agreed to write the two scenes, as you advised. But he insists on doing so at his lodging, even though I’ll not let the play out of my sight. He says that he can only work at his own desk.’

  ‘You need to be at his elbow, to guide his pen in the right direction.’

  ‘That’s what I’d hoped to do,’ said Hoode. ‘I even offered to take the play to his lodging, if someone could be found to carry me there, but he’d not hear of it.’

  ‘Why was that?’

  ‘Michael is a very private person. His imagination only flowers when he’s alone.’