Death at the Beggar's Opera by Deryn Lake Page A

most of the actors were either being questioned or were in their dressing rooms. There must have been several periods when the stage was completely deserted, leaving anyone with a strong nerve free to tamper with the gallows.’
    ‘Then we have a murderer who is trying to implicate another.’
    ‘It would indeed seem so, yes.’ The Blind Beak stood up, his commanding height dominating the group around him. ‘Mr Rawlings, I suggest that we bring tonight’s questioning to a close. I shall see the rest of the players in the morning while you go to visit Mr Harcross’s widow. Then perhaps we could meet at Bow Street in the evening in order to compare notes, if you and Sir Gabriel would care to dine.’ Mr Fielding cleared his throat. ‘My young friend, I do realise that I am imposing on you by asking you to be away from your shop, the source of your livelihood. It weighs heavily upon my conscience.’
    John nodded. ‘It does create certain difficulties, I must admit. Perhaps we could come to a compromise, whereby I work for the Public Office on alternate days, or something of that sort.’
    ‘I think that might well be the answer,’ said the Blind Beak. He turned to his clerk. ‘And now, Jago, if you would tell the actors that we are done with them for the night and to be back here in costume at ten o’clock.’ He called out to Dick, who had just reappeared on stage and whose footsteps he clearly recalled. ‘Is Mr Garrick still in the theatre?’
    ‘No, Sir, he’s gone home. But the orchestra and stagehands want to know what to do. They have stayed on.’
    ‘I’ll see them in the morning as well. Now what about that boy? Where does he live?’
    Dick stared at the Blind Beak in obvious surprise. ‘Why here, Mr Fielding. He’s the theatre boy, a foundling, he lives on the premises.’
    ‘Does he sleep here?’ asked John, with quickened interest.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Then he will be well worth talking to.’
    The Blind Beak interrupted. ‘Joe, put that on your list of things for Mr Rawlings to do. The child will be far less frightened of him than he will of me.’
    ‘Very good, Sir. Then I’ll go and get those rum cove actors shifted.’
    ‘And I’ll arrange for one of the Runners to stay here overnight,’ the Magistrate added in an undertone. ‘If one attempt has been made to distort vital evidence, who knows what might happen next.’
    The empty theatre began to echo with the noise of footsteps descending the stairs leading from the dressing rooms, and then came the sound of people bidding each other farewell. Voices were hushed out of respect for the newly dead, and the occasional sob added its mournful note to the palpable air of gloom. Mr Fielding, sombre in a dark cloak, left for the stage door, guided by Joe Jago, while John watched the last of the players make their way out. It was only then that he heard his name called and spun round to see that Coralie Clive still prowled in the shadows. Motioning Samuel to go ahead of him and call a hackney, John went up to her.
    ‘Miss Clive! Is anything wrong?’
    ‘I just wanted a private word, that’s all.’
    Staring at her closely, the Apothecary saw that she was as pale as glass, her skin blanched and stretched so tightly over her cheekbones that her face looked almost mask-like.
    ‘You’re ill,’ he said quietly. ‘Come and sit down.’
    She shook her head violently. ‘What I have to say can be said as well standing.’
    ‘Then how can I assist you?’
    ‘Once, long ago, in a very clumsy way, I helped to save your life. Now it is my turn to ask a favour.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘I know that Mr Fielding admires and respects you …’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘So I want you to persuade him that I did not kill my lover.’
    John’s heart lurched wretchedly. ‘I take it you mean Jasper Harcross?’
    A tear trickled from one of Coralie’s glorious eyes. ‘Oh yes. You see I was fatally attracted to him at one point. Indeed it was he who took away my