Read Online Death at the Beggar's Opera by Deryn Lake - Free Book Online Page B

came back tomorrow.’
    Samuel groaned. ‘Well, I can’t for a start. My father and I are going to look at possible premises for the goldsmith’s business I hope to open soon. I must devote some time to my own affairs.’
    The Runner scratched his head. ‘This is very awkward. I shall have to consult with Mr Fielding.’
    The Apothecary nodded, adding in an undertone, ‘That would be the best plan. Being the extraordinary sort of woman she is, it occurs to me that the Beak might like to question Mrs Harcross himself.’
    Benjamin Rudge looked relieved. ‘I reckon you’re right there, Mr Rawlings.’ He turned his attention to the figure on the sofa. ‘Now, Ma’am, do you have a neighbour who can keep an eye on you? For the fact of the matter is that these gentlemen and I will have to return to town. But that won’t be the last of it I’m afraid. The Public Office is duty bound to ask you some questions about your late husband, and to that end someone will return here tomorrow when you are more in control of yourself.’
    Mrs Harcross smiled faintly. ‘It is kind of you to be so considerate. And, yes, I shall be perfectly all right. This is only a small village and everyone is very friendly.’
    ‘Then I shall leave you some compound,’ John said solemnly. ‘Swallow a spoonful every hour to help you keep calm. And tonight I would like you to take some of these tablets so that you will get a good night’s sleep.’
    ‘I will do as you say,’ she answered, then added in a softer voice, ‘Until tomorrow, Sir.’
    ‘Until then,’ John answered as he made his departure.
    The carriage arrived in Bow Street shortly after one o’clock, but John, knowing that he was to dine with the Blind Beak that evening, resisted the temptation to call on Mr Fielding. Instead he directed the driver to Nassau Street, where the Apothecary enjoyed a luxurious soak in his bath tub before changing into twilight clothes and going to seek out his father in the library. By the time these preparations were done it was dark, there being little light after three o’clock on such bleak November days, and John, as always, felt a glow of almost sensual pleasure as he walked into the exquisite room to see the rich floor-length curtains drawn against the night, the candles lit and the fire gleaming in the hearth. These were the feelings he always associated with his father, comfort and companionship coupled with two rather oddly related attributes, style and rare intelligence.
    ‘Well,’ said Sir Gabriel, looking up from his newspaper, ‘there has obviously been much going on since we spoke last.’
    ‘You know the bare bones of it?’
    ‘Yes. Serafina called on me today to play cards. She told me everything that happened up to the moment when she had to leave the theatre. She also added that the talk is of murder rather than accident.’
    ‘Yes, that’s true enough. The planking of the gallows had been sawn through to breaking point. All it needed was Jasper’s weight before they splintered.’
    ‘And they were all right prior to the performance?’
    ‘According to Dick Weatherby, the stage manager, the whole contraption was in perfect working order at the dress rehearsal.’
    ‘I see. So it would appear to point to another member of the company. How much do you know about them?’
    And Sir Gabriel listened intently as John described Mrs Delaney, Jack Masters, and all the others of whom he had taken particular note, ending with a brilliant word picture of Mrs Martin and her little husband. The description of Coralie Clive his son kept to a minimum, however, omitting the conversation they had had together in the darkness of the empty theatre.
    Sir Gabriel must have sensed this reticence and with his unerring instinct for any of John’s attempts at deception, said, ‘And Miss Clive? What about her? Could she possibly be implicated?’
    The Apothecary sighed and helped himself to another glass of sherry. ‘I’m afraid that she