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themselves to be above the law and taxes were unlikely to have been declared or paid for years. It was simple enough to underestimate the number of persons in the audience and issue tickets which would later mysteriously disappear off the ledgers.
                  As the colour drained from the fellow’s face Underwood knew he had hit upon the very thing to make the man sweat, for ever since the war with Napoleon and the vast sums of money it had cost the Government, they were ever more avid to chase those they thought might be cheating the revenue. Punishment for non-payment was swift and brutal.
                  He escorted his wife from the premises with a sense of mild satisfaction.
     

 
    CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    ‘Zonam Perdidit’ – She is impoverished
     
                  Verity was almost tearful when they reached the street, “What a horrid man,” she said, with a sigh. “Now what should we do? How will we find Violette and make sure she is safe?”
                  “Simple. You will go home and I shall follow the actors and find out where they are lodging. With luck I will find the young lady still there.”
                  “What if she has already gone?”
                  “Then there is nothing we can do and it ceases to be our concern – however, I doubt that strongly. I cannot imagine anyone being cruel enough to throw a young woman onto the street at this time of night. It can make no odds to them to allow her to lodge for a few more hours.”
                  He was not as confident as he sounded, being all too painfully aware of man’s inhumanity to man, but he could not have his wife fretting the night away. However two things occurred in rapid succession which set his plans awry. First he and Verity were plunged into sudden darkness. They both looked up and realised that dark clouds had scurried up on a freshening wind and had obscured the moon like a shutter over a lighted window. The first heavy drops of rain made unsightly blotches on Underwood’s caped great coat and Verity’s velvet pelisse. She shivered as the cold breeze swept across the street, sending torn theatre tickets, and a discarded newspaper dancing around their feet.
                  They were just wavering about how to deal with this new obstacle when the first of the actors came strolling out of the alley, still chattering loudly to each other as though they were still projecting their voices into the auditorium, with the main topic of conversation being in which tavern they intended to spend the rest of the evening.
                  Underwood’s plan of following them back to their lodgings was suddenly moot. It could be hours before any of them staggered back to their beds and in the meantime the rain was falling so heavily that they were rushing past the Underwoods to find shelter and it looked most unlikely that any of them would spare a thought for their foreign ex-colleague.
                  Underwood took off his coat and wrapped it around his shivering wife, “I’m sorry, Verity, but it looks very much as though poor Violette is going to have to look after herself. I can’t let you wander the streets in this. If it is any consolation this foul weather will render it even more unlikely that her landlord would be un-Christian enough to make her leave before morning.”
                  “But you will look for her tomorrow and make sure she has somewhere to go?” asked his wife, looking up at him, appealing for compassion. Her tender heart could not bear to think of another person, especially a young woman, who would be so much more vulnerable than a man, in such dire need.
                  “Of course I will. I feel for her as much as you do. Now, for goodness sake, let us get out of this damnable rain.”
                  Fortunately it was not far to the vicarage, but