Death at the Beggar's Opera by Deryn Lake

course. Well, the truth is that I was visiting a lady.’
    ‘And she will verify this?’
    ‘I would rather you did not approach her.’
    John sighed once more. ‘Sir, I will most certainly not do so. That remains with Mr Fielding. He is in overall charge of us all.’
    ‘Oh dear!’ said Samuel spontaneously, obviously perturbed by Jack Masters’s attitude, and both friends were relieved to hear Joe Jago tap on the door once more.
    ‘Mr Rawlings, Mr Fielding presents his compliments and asks that you meet him on the stage. It seems that there has been a new development in this matter.’
    John stood up, extremely glad to remove himself from the stuffy confines of the little room.
    ‘Tell him that I will attend him in just a few moments.’
    The actor got to his feet. ‘Are you finished with me?’
    ‘Only one word more,’ answered John. ‘Whatever further information Mr Fielding might ask you to give him will be treated in the utmost confidence, I can assure you of that.’
    Masters gave him a penetrating glance. ‘You think a great deal of that man, don’t you?’
    ‘Yes. He is as honest and true an individual as I have ever come across.’
    Jack drew on his pipe. ‘That’s as well with all the dark secrets this killing is going to lay bare.’ And with those words he withdrew, leaving a cloud of blue smoke behind him.
    A strange scene awaited John on the stage. The Blind Beak and Joe Jago were sitting on two chests, specially brought in for that purpose. Behind them stood one of Mr Fielding’s Fellows, a sketch pad in his hand and an important look on his face. At the back of the stage, stretched out fast asleep, was Will the theatre boy, the wooden gallows that he was meant to have been guarding, quite unattended. All three of the adults had a conspiratorial air about them and John guessed at once that something had been discovered.
    ‘Ah, Mr Rawlings,’ said the Blind Beak, hearing John approach and obviously recognising his tread. ‘I’m glad you’re here. Would you mind entering the wooden contraption with my Brave Fellow? There’s something he would like you to see.’
    ‘What’s going on?’ asked the Apothecary, as he stepped once more into the claustrophobic confines of the box in which Jasper Harcross had met his death.
    ‘Mr Fielding asked me to sketch the cuts made by the saw so that we could have a record of them. And it was while I was doing so that I noticed this.’
    And he produced from his pocket a scarlet bow which he handed to John with a flourish.
    ‘Um, from Sarah Delaney’s costume, I imagine. Where was this?’
    ‘Snagged on a piece of wood lower down, hardly visible in fact.’
    ‘Strange that I did not notice it.’
    ‘It could easily have been missed in the hurly burly.’
    ‘There was certainly a great deal going on,’ answered John, and had a cruelly vivid recollection of Jasper Harcross’s dangling legs in their high leather boots, and how he had held them tightly to his chest.
    ‘So what do you think, Sir?’ the Runner went on.
    ‘A most interesting find.’
    But he would be drawn no further and said nothing more until the Blind Beak asked him the same question. Then John gave his honest opinion.
    ‘I don’t quite see how, Sir, but I believe that bow has been put there recently in order to incriminate Mrs Delaney.’
    The black bandage hiding John Fielding’s blind eyes turned sharply in the Apothecary’s direction. ‘And why do you say this?’
    ‘For two different reasons. One is that I didn’t see the bow when I was inside the gallows, though I admit that is easily explicable. The other is that Mrs Delaney’s costume was intact during tonight’s performance, yet the bow was missing when I questioned her.’
    ‘You’re sure of this?’
    ‘Absolutely positive.’
    ‘Then that means it was planted after the murder.’
    John motioned towards the sleeping child. ‘How long has he been like that?’
    ‘At least half an hour. And during that time