Another silent exchange between the midgets then one of the sons cracked, jumping up and running across to the visitor.
'We did not mean to do any harm, sir.'
'Who put you up to it?'
'It was all in jest, sir. We are clowns at a fair.'
'There's nothing clownish in the sight of a dead man.'
'That was my doing, sir!' wailed the son. 'I still have nightmares about it. I did not mean to fright him so.'
The mother now burst into tears, both sons talked at once and Dickon tried to mediate. Nicholas calmed them all down and asked the father to give a full account of what happened. Dickon cleared his throat, glanced at the others, then launched into his narrative.
The fair was at Finchley when a young man approached them and asked if they would like to earn some money. All that they had to do was to play a jest on a friend of his. Dickon undertook the task himself. A costume was provided and details of when and how to make his sudden appearance. The young man was evidently familiar with the details of the performance.
'How did you get into the Queen's Head?' said Nicholas.
'In the back of a cart, sir.'
'Then you hid beneath the stage?'
'When you are as small as us, concealment is not difficult.'
'You were told to cause an uproar then disappear.'
'That is so.'
'What about The Curtain?'
'I did not even have to dress up for that,' said Dickon. 'When you all withdrew after the rehearsal, I came out from behind the costume basket where I lay hidden. It was the work of five minutes or so to saw through that maypole.'
'Did you not think of the damage it could cause?'
'The young man assured us nobody would be hurt.'
'What of The Rose?'
'My sons were both employed there.'
Dickon's account was straightforward. Instructed in what they had to do, the two boys had visited the theatre in costume on the eve of performance to search for places of concealment and to rehearse their antics. Hearing footsteps up on the stage, they could not resist shooting up through the trap-doors to startle whoever it was. Nicholas admitted that he had been duly startled.
The boys had slipped under the stage after the performance had starred and lay hidden under sheets in a corner. When Roper Blundell came down to prepare for his own ascent from Hell, he nipped over one of the sheets and lifted it. The mere sight of a douching devil had been enough to frighten him to death. Terrified themselves, the two brothers fled as soon as they could and did not make the double entry on stage that had been planned.
Nicholas felt that he was hearing the truth. The midgets were not responsible for what they did. They were only pawns in the game. Paid for their services, they were told that everything was a practical joke on friends. That joke turned sour at The Rose and they refused to work for the young man again. Nicholas saw no virtue in proceeding against this peculiar family. It was the person behind them who was the real villain. He sought help.
'Was he a well-favoured young man with a ring on his right hand?'
'Yes, sir,' said Dickon. 'It bore his initials.'
'Do you know what they stand for?'
'No, sir. Except that…well, there was one time when his coachman called him Master Gregory.'
G.N. Master Gregory. It was enough for Nicholas.
He now knew who their enemies really were.
Chapter Ten
Sunday was truly a day of rest for Henry Drewry. It was the end of the worst week of his life and he was exhausted from his labours. He could not even stir to take himself off to matins. Having tried to prevent his daughter from going to the country with Grate Napier, he felt an immense relief when she actually left the house. Her presence now diminished him in every way. Terrified to offend her lest she speak to her mother about a Bankside theatre, he crept around quietly and kept out of her way. All hope of marrying the girl off could now be abandoned. He had too much compassion to wish such a creature on any other man.
As he reclined in his chair in the parlour with a restorative pint of sherry, he saw how much he had squandered by one foolish action. He was an opinionated Alderman of the city of London, yet he dared not assert himself any longer in his own home.
There was a tap on the door and a manservant entered.
'Master Pollard is without, sir.'
'Tell him that I am not here.'
'But he says he has called on a most important matter.'
'Get rid of the fellow!'
The servant went off to implement the order but Isaac Pollard would not be sent way. Knocking on the door of the parlour, he surged in like a monstrous black bat and fluttered over Drewry.
'Why do you send me lies, sir?'
'You must be mistaken,' said the other with a gulp.
'I am told you are not at home and you sit here drinking sherry.'
The Puritan glared disapprovingly at the liquid.
'I take it on medical advice,' said Drewry quickly. 'I am unwell.'
'You must be if you tell untruths on the Sabbath.'
'What brings you here, Isaac?'
'Profanity, sir!'
'Again?' muttered the other wearily.
'Wickedness is abroad.'
'I have not yet been out to see.'
'The Merry Devils is to be performed again.'
'Do not mention that play to me!' howled Drewry.
'But I hear that it will be given at Parkbrook House on the estate of Lord Westfield. It must be stopped.'
'If it is a private performance, we can do nothing. Besides, we have no power in the county of Hertfordshire.'
'We have the power of God Himself,' said Pollard impressively, 'and that covers every shire in the land. There is a way to halt this performance if we but move swift enough.'
'And what is that, sir?'
'Get the play declared a blasphemous document and have its authors incarcerated for their sins. There must be legislation that favours us. We must attack with a statute book in our hand.'
Henry Drewry preferred to relax with a pint of sherry in his.
'I grow tired of all this, Isaac,' he said.
'Tired of God? Tired of our Christian duty? Tired of the paths of righteousness?' Pollard rippled the eyebrow at him. 'We must fight harder than ever against the Devil.'
'He has a strong voice at our meetings.'
'What say you?'
'My fellow Aldermen do not share your opinion of the theatre.'
'It is a market-place of bestiality!'
'Haply, that is what draws them thither,' said Drewry under his breath. 'I put the case against the Queen's
