said.
Barak had risen and was looking out of the window. 'What's wrong with that rogue Bealknap?' he said curiously.
'Bealknap;' I rose and joined him.
'Looks like he's about to peg out.'
Through the window I saw my old rival sitting on a bench next to the still -frozen fountain. A knapsack lay on the snow beside him. Even at this distance, his lean face looked an unhealthy white.
'What's the matter with him?' I said.
'They say he's been faint and ill for weeks,' Skelly said, looking at us earnestly from his table.
'I thought he looked under the weather at the play.' 'Let's hope it's nothing minor,' Barak said. I smiled enigmatically. 'I must go.'
I left them and walked back into Gatehouse Court. I had to pass the fountain to get to Roger's rooms. Bealknap had not moved. His thin form was swathed in an expensive coat lined with marten, but even so this was not weather to be sitting outside. I hesitated as I passed him.
'Brother Bealknap,' I asked. 'Are you all right:'
He looked at me quickly, then glanced away. He could never meet anyone's eye. 'Perfectly, brother,' he snapped. 'I just sat down for a moment.'
'You have dropped your knapsack. It will get wet.'
He bent and picked it up. I saw his hand trembled. 'Go away!' he said.
I was surprised to see that he looked frightened. 'I only wished to help,' I said stiffly.
'You, help me!' He gave a snort of mocking laughter, then forced himself to his feet and stumbled off towards his lodgings. I shook my head and passed on.
Roger was in his outer office. A candle had been lit against the gloomy afternoon and he stood before it, an affidavit in his long fingers.
'A moment, Matthew,' he said with a smile. His head moved rapidly, scanning the document, then he passed it to the clerk with a nod. 'Well done, Bartlett,' he said. 'A very fair draft. Now, Matthew, let us go and see this leech.' He smiled nervously. 'I see you have your riding boots. Sensible. I will get mine, these shoes would be ruined in the slush.'
He collected his boots, strong old leather ones he often wore, and we walked to the stables. 'No more sudden falls?' I asked him quietly.
'No, thank God.' He sighed deeply; I could see he was still worried.
'Have you much work on?' I asked, to distract him.
'More than I can handle.' Roger was an excellent litigator, and since returning to London had built up a formidable reputation. 'And I have to go and see a new pro bono client tonight, after we have been to the doctor's.'
A voice calling Roger's name made us turn. Dorothy was hurrying towards us, an amused expression on her face, carrying a package wrapped in oilskin. 'You forgot this,' she said.
Her husband reddened as he took the package. 'His urine bottle for the physician,' Dorothy explained.
Roger gave me a wry smile. 'What would I do without her?' he asked.
'Forget your head, husband.' Dorothy smiled again, then shivered, for she wore only an indoor dress.
'Go back in, sweetheart,' Roger said, 'or you will have need of a doctor too.'
'I will. Good luck, my love. Goodbye, Matthew. Come to supper next week.' She turned and walked away, hugging herself against the cold.
'I hate deceiving her,' Roger said. 'She still thinks I have a bad stomach. But I would not worry her.'
'I know. Now come, and take care you do not drop that package.'
Roger was preoccupied , saying little as we rode along Cheap - side. The traders were packing up their stalls and we had to pick our way between the few late shoppers and the discarded wooden boxes thrown in the road. A pair of barefoot children in rags darted perilously close to the horses' hooves, picking up rotten vegetables, the dregs of last year's produce which the traders had thrown away. The beggars were crowded around the Conduit again, and one was waving a stick with a piece of rotten bacon on the end, shout' ing maniacally from the steps. 'Help Tom o'Bedlam! Help a poor man out of his wits! See my broken heart here, on the end of this rod!'
'He's
Barak had risen and was looking out of the window. 'What's wrong with that rogue Bealknap?' he said curiously.
'Bealknap;' I rose and joined him.
'Looks like he's about to peg out.'
Through the window I saw my old rival sitting on a bench next to the still -frozen fountain. A knapsack lay on the snow beside him. Even at this distance, his lean face looked an unhealthy white.
'What's the matter with him?' I said.
'They say he's been faint and ill for weeks,' Skelly said, looking at us earnestly from his table.
'I thought he looked under the weather at the play.' 'Let's hope it's nothing minor,' Barak said. I smiled enigmatically. 'I must go.'
I left them and walked back into Gatehouse Court. I had to pass the fountain to get to Roger's rooms. Bealknap had not moved. His thin form was swathed in an expensive coat lined with marten, but even so this was not weather to be sitting outside. I hesitated as I passed him.
'Brother Bealknap,' I asked. 'Are you all right:'
He looked at me quickly, then glanced away. He could never meet anyone's eye. 'Perfectly, brother,' he snapped. 'I just sat down for a moment.'
'You have dropped your knapsack. It will get wet.'
He bent and picked it up. I saw his hand trembled. 'Go away!' he said.
I was surprised to see that he looked frightened. 'I only wished to help,' I said stiffly.
'You, help me!' He gave a snort of mocking laughter, then forced himself to his feet and stumbled off towards his lodgings. I shook my head and passed on.
Roger was in his outer office. A candle had been lit against the gloomy afternoon and he stood before it, an affidavit in his long fingers.
'A moment, Matthew,' he said with a smile. His head moved rapidly, scanning the document, then he passed it to the clerk with a nod. 'Well done, Bartlett,' he said. 'A very fair draft. Now, Matthew, let us go and see this leech.' He smiled nervously. 'I see you have your riding boots. Sensible. I will get mine, these shoes would be ruined in the slush.'
He collected his boots, strong old leather ones he often wore, and we walked to the stables. 'No more sudden falls?' I asked him quietly.
'No, thank God.' He sighed deeply; I could see he was still worried.
'Have you much work on?' I asked, to distract him.
'More than I can handle.' Roger was an excellent litigator, and since returning to London had built up a formidable reputation. 'And I have to go and see a new pro bono client tonight, after we have been to the doctor's.'
A voice calling Roger's name made us turn. Dorothy was hurrying towards us, an amused expression on her face, carrying a package wrapped in oilskin. 'You forgot this,' she said.
Her husband reddened as he took the package. 'His urine bottle for the physician,' Dorothy explained.
Roger gave me a wry smile. 'What would I do without her?' he asked.
'Forget your head, husband.' Dorothy smiled again, then shivered, for she wore only an indoor dress.
'Go back in, sweetheart,' Roger said, 'or you will have need of a doctor too.'
'I will. Good luck, my love. Goodbye, Matthew. Come to supper next week.' She turned and walked away, hugging herself against the cold.
'I hate deceiving her,' Roger said. 'She still thinks I have a bad stomach. But I would not worry her.'
'I know. Now come, and take care you do not drop that package.'
Roger was preoccupied , saying little as we rode along Cheap - side. The traders were packing up their stalls and we had to pick our way between the few late shoppers and the discarded wooden boxes thrown in the road. A pair of barefoot children in rags darted perilously close to the horses' hooves, picking up rotten vegetables, the dregs of last year's produce which the traders had thrown away. The beggars were crowded around the Conduit again, and one was waving a stick with a piece of rotten bacon on the end, shout' ing maniacally from the steps. 'Help Tom o'Bedlam! Help a poor man out of his wits! See my broken heart here, on the end of this rod!'
'He's
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