'All these accidents that befall Westfield's Men are disturbing. Might not you be the victim of the next one?
'I might, Anne, but it is unlikely.'
'Why?'
'Because I am not the target.'
'Then who is? Ralph Willoughby?'
'He is involved, certainly,' said Nicholas with a sigh. 'We cannot lightly dismiss the word of Doctor John Mordrake. On the other hand…'
'You still do not believe in devils.'
'No, Anne.'
'Then what did Roper Blundell see beneath the stage?'
'Only he knows and his lips are sealed for ever.'
'Could the surgeon throw any light?'
'He was mystified, Anne.'
'Why?'
'There were no signs upon the body.'
'What was his conclusion?
'Death by natural causes,' said Nicholas sceptically. 'He told us that Roper died of old age and a verminous profession.'
'Poor man! Does he leave a family?'
'None.'
'Is there nobody to mourn for him?'
'We few friends.'
They fell silent for a while then she rolled over on top of him and put her head on his chest. Nicholas ran his hands through her downy hair and traced the contours of her back. Her skin was silky to the touch. When she finally spoke, her voice was a contented murmur.
'I like that.'
'Good.'
'I like you as well.'
'That pleases me even more.'
She propped herself up on her arms so that she could look down at him. A shaft of moonlight was striking the side of his face. She kissed the streak of light then nuzzled his cheek.
'Who is the target?' she asked.
'I do not know, Anne.'; 'What does your instinct tell you?'
'Someone hates the company.'
'Someone human?'
'That's my feeling.'
'Why does the attack always come during a performance?'
'Because that is how to hurt us most,' he argued. 'There are a hundred ways to damage Westfield's Men but our enemy strikes during a play to discredit us in front of an audience. If we had abandoned a performance in the middle, it would have done enormous harm to our reputation, and reputation means everything in the theatre.'
'But you were not forced to stop, Nick.'
'Master Firethorn and Master Gill were the heroes there,' he said. 'When that creature leapt out of the trap- door at the Queen's Head, everyone turned tail except Master Firethorn. He held the play together when it might have collapsed in ruins.'
'And at The Curtain?'
'It was Master Gill who showed his experience. When the maypole broke, he made light of the accident in front of the spectators. The aim was to disrupt our performance but once again it was foiled.
'What of this afternoon?'
'A merry devil died. That would stop most companies.'
'Yet Westfield's Men carried on and the audience was none the wiser. I saw no hindrance in the action from where I sat. And since you kept Blundell's death a secret from the company, they were able to continue their performance.'
'Yes, Anne. It brings me back to my first assumption.'
'Which is?'
Some jealous rival seeks to undermine us.'
‘Your reasoning?'
'They know best how to do it-on the stage itself.'
'But that requires a knowledge of the play.'
'That is the most puzzling aspect of it all,' admitted Nicholas. 'I guard the prompt books scrupulously yet someone knows their contents.'
'A discontented member of the company?'
'We have enough of those, I fear. Master Firethorn has never been too generous with wages or too swift in their payment. We have our share of grumblers but none of them would sink to this kind of villainy. Were it successful, it would harm their own position.'
'Then it must be some former member of Westfield's Men.'
'There you may have ir, Anne.'
'Players with a grudge?'
'Two or three have left us of late,' he said. 'Embittered men who went off cursing. They might not have been able to attack us in this way but they could give help to those that could.'
'We come back to Banbury's Men.'
'I harbour doubts on that score.'
She put her head back on his chest and he stroked her hair with absent-minded affection, inhaling its fragrance. He looked at the week ahead with some misgivings.
'Tomorrow we return to the Queen's Head.'
'That will please Master Marwood,' she said with irony.
'Thank goodness that Roper did not pass away on his premises. Our landlord would not have liked a corpse beneath our stage. It would have given him fresh grounds for breaking his partnership with us.'
'How many days are you there?'
'Three, Anne.’
'Not on Saturday?'
'We perform at Newington Butts then I'm away.'
'Away where, sir?'
'Did I not tell you of my commission?'
'You hardly spoke at all when you got home tonight.'
'Master Firethorn wants me to reconnoitre.'
'Where, Nick?'
'Parkbrook House.’
'On the Westfield estate?'
Yes,' he said, playfully turning her over on to her back. 'I'm running away from you, Anne.'
'Treachery!'
'I go to the country.'
'Not for a while, sir.'
She kissed him full on the lips and desire stirred again.
*
'There is no question of your visiting the country!'
'Why not, father?'
'Because you are needed here.'
'By whom?'
