Death at the Beggar's Opera Page 4

  ‘Do you think the Beak will come himself?’ Samuel had asked as he set forth.

  ‘I hope so,’ John answered. ‘I can’t see anyone else being able to keep order amongst this torrent of temperaments.’

  Samuel had rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t know which is worse, those in hysterics, those weeping, or those in the sullens.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ the Apothecary had answered gloomily. For, truth to tell, the near riot that had broken out after he had given his opinion that Jasper Harcross had been done to death, beggared belief. First to react had been Clarice Martin, who had crashed down so heavily on the stage in a dead faint that one of the boards had cracked in ghastly parody of the fate that had befallen her fellow actor. At this, Mrs Delaney had given a shrill scream of hysterical laughter before collapsing into a veritable tide of tears, while Miss Clive had gone as white as her lace pinner, her eyes glittering in the most unnerving manner. John had gone forward with his bottle of smelling salts, hoping to attend her, but had been plucked to one side by the harpsichordist who had begged him to give succour to his wife. As John had knelt over the abundant curves of Mrs Martin he had again thought about the difference in their respective sizes and had found his mind going down some extremely naughty avenues, quite unsuitable for the occasion.

  Meanwhile, the actor playing Lockit, a craggy-faced individual with alert blue eyes, decided that he would light a pipe to soothe his nerves. This upset Mr Peachum, who declared that smoke was bad for his throat and instantly indulged in an extremely forced fit of coughing. At this Mrs Vine, who had taken the role of Diana Trapes, told him forcefully to be quiet, and an argument erupted between them.

  ‘Can’t we get rid of them into the dressing rooms?’ begged Dick, who had revealed himself as the stage manager and a stalwart character.

  John looked doubtful. ‘As long as none of them tries to leave I suppose it would be all right.’

  ‘Can they change out of their costumes?’

  ‘I think not. I am sure Mr Fielding would like to see them exactly as they were at the time of the hanging.’

  ‘But surely he can’t see, so what is the point?’

  ‘If he comes in person he will bring his eyes with him, namely his clerk, Joe Jago. Not a thing will pass his keen gaze, I assure you.’

  ‘Then I hope they hurry. There is nothing worse than a stageful of irritable actors.’

  ‘Perhaps Mr Garrick could make an announcement.’

  ‘Mr Garrick is in a worse mood than the rest of them put together.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ sighed John, and was just about to take responsibility for sending the actors to the dressing rooms when there was a sound from the stage door. Listening intently, the Apothecary smiled to himself. Slowly and inexorably came the steady beat of a tapping cane. The Blind Beak, the great John Fielding, had not only arrived but was approaching the scene of the murder.

  John could not resist it. He cleared his throat and said importantly, ‘Pray silence, ladies and gentlemen, for the Principal Magistrate.’

  Instantly there was quiet, and into that stillness the rapping of the stick grew ever louder. And then there was a rustle in the wings and suddenly John Fielding was there, his vast frame filling the dark space, the curls of his wig brushing against his strong features as he turned his bandaged eyes in the direction of the assembled company.

  ‘David?’ he called in his powerful voice, and instantly Garrick got to his feet and crossed the space between them.

  ‘My dear friend,’ said the actor, embracing the Magistrate as if they were long lost brothers. ‘How very good of you to come in person.’

  ‘It was the least I could do in view of our old acquaintanceship,’ the Blind Beak answered, and John felt faintly astonished until he remembered Mr Fielding’s half brother, Henry, and his lengthy association with Drury Lane.

  As if picking up the Apothecary’s train of thought, Garrick continued, ‘I was so distressed to hear of Henry’s death last month. We have lost a fine author and playwright alas.’

  The Beak nodded solemnly. ‘What saddens me is that he is buried in Lisbon, whence he had travelled for the sake of his health. I would rather that such a great Englishman was laid to rest at home.’

  Garrick’s mobile features adopted such a grave expression that John, in any other circumstance, would have found it difficult not to smile at the theatricality of his response.

  ‘I fear Henry’s passing has heralded disaster,’ the actor said, sighing gustily. ‘Poor Jasper was killed on stage last night and a young apothecary who claims to be your assistant – I trust he is, by the way – says that his death was not accidental.’

  ‘I take it Mr Garrick is referring to you, Mr Rawlings?’ the Blind Beak asked, turning his head in John’s direction just as if he could see him.

  ‘He is, Sir.’

  ‘Then be assured, my dear friend, that the Apothecary and I have indeed worked together before. Now then, Mr Rawlings, be so good as to tell me exactly why you believe what you do.’

  ‘The planking beneath the man’s feet had been sawn through to the point where it only needed his weight upon them for them to break. Consequently, Mr Harcross fell through the holes in the gallows’ platform.’

  ‘And …?’

  ‘As he had a noose round his neck at the time, acting out the hanging of Macheath, that fall proved fatal.’

  ‘I see. Where is the body now?’

  ‘More or less where it landed after it was cut down. I had to turn the victim over in order to examine him but he hasn’t been moved since.’

  ‘And where are the rest of the actors?’

  ‘Still on stage. And in mighty high stirrup, most of them.’

  ‘I’ll speak to them.’ Mr Fielding raised his voice. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I greatly regret that you have been kept waiting after such a very shocking experience, but I do hope that you will understand the reason. In a case of wilful murder, as the death of your colleague certainly would appear to be, it is essential that we question everyone as soon as possible before their memory of the event fades. Therefore, if Mr Garrick can put some rooms at my disposal, we shall get that task over quickly. Then you may all change and return to your homes.’

  He turned his head. ‘Joe, are you there?’

  ‘Indeed I am, Sir,’ answered his clerk, stepping forward smartly.

  ‘Has the physician arrived?’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘Then, for the record, let him confirm the cause of death. After that the body can be removed. Meanwhile, I’d be grateful if these good people left the stage.’

  ‘There is just one person I think you should speak to first,’ Sir,’ said John in an undertone.

  ‘And who is that?’

  ‘Dick, the stage manager, a very helpful fellow. He swears that the platform through which Jasper Harcross fell was in perfect working order at the dress rehearsal.’

  Mr Fielding nodded. ‘Bring him over. By the way, is that platform under guard?’

  ‘I posted Will, the theatre boy, to stand by it, with strict instructions to allow nobody near.’

  The Blind Beak smiled. ‘You have done well, Mr Rawlings. How very fortunate that you were here. Now, let us get rid of the onlookers.’

  But this time the actors had no wish to watch as the body was uncovered and examined by a doctor, who confirmed John’s diagnosis, much to his satisfaction. Instead, all looking very subdued, they returned to their dressing rooms, awaiting the summons to questioning.

  ‘Mr Fielding would rather you remained in your costumes for the moment,’ Joe Jago called after them.

  ‘Why?’ asked Mrs Martin, rounding on him, her old spirit obviously returning.

  ‘Material evidence,’ he answered obscurely, and with that she had to be content.

  ‘But why really?’ John asked the clerk in an undertone, not wishing to appear ignorant before either the Blind Beak or the actors.

  ‘Because they wore them at the dress rehearsal,
Mr Rawlings.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So if whoever sawed through the planking was wearing their costume when they did so, there might still be some telltale sign upon it.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Then what should I be looking for?’

  ‘Anything. A dirty mark, a tear, a missing button, anything. Just keep your eyes sharp, Mr Rawlings.’ And Joe Jago tapped the side of his nose with his finger.

  Within a quarter of an hour, indeed as two in the morning struck, the mortal remains of poor Jasper Harcross were removed to the mortuary, awaiting claim by his immediate family, to whom it was planned to send a Runner bearing the ill tidings.

  ‘Was he a married man?’ the Blind Beak asked David Garrick as the corpse set out on its dismal journey.

  ‘Yes and no,’ came the answer, accompanied by a laugh. ‘The fact is that Jasper kept a wife that nobody knew about, residing in the country. In Kensington to be precise. He would go there and serve her occasionally, so I believe.’

  ‘And between times?’

  ‘He loved the ladies and they loved him. He played true to type when he took the part of Macheath, believe me.’

  ‘Was there anyone in particular?’

  ‘All of ’em,’ Garrick said with relish. ‘There’s not a woman in this cast he’s not had some kind of dalliance with.’

  “Zounds!’ the Apothecary exclaimed. ‘Even Mrs Martin?’

  ‘Even she,’ replied the actor, and laughed once more.

  The Blind Beak turned to John. ‘Now, my young friend, I wonder if you would be so kind as to let me enlist your help once more.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘If I question all these people myself we will be here till dawn and tempers will fray. I wonder if we might divide the number in half and if you would quiz some of them on my account.’ The hare-like quality in John, the part of him that could not resist adventure, responded, ‘I will do that gladly, Sir. What are the kinds of thing you want to know?’

  ‘Basically, their relationship with the deceased, for good or ill. And secondly, if they can account for themselves between the dress rehearsal and tonight’s performance.’

  ‘I don’t quite understand.’

  ‘Joe has examined the wooden box with the stage manager. Both of them agree that the planking has been sawn through, just as you thought. However, Dick assures me that it was in good order when he closed the theatre down after the final rehearsal. That means that someone came in here, probably during the hours of darkness, and sawed through the planks, knowing that the platform would not be used again until Mr Harcross stood on it in the course of the actual performance.’

  ‘Surely that would point to someone in this troupe of actors.’

  ‘Indeed it might well. Now, let us get a man on horseback sent to Kensington to discover the whereabouts of the wretched widow.’ Mr Fielding paused, then added, ‘No, on second thoughts he can go in the morning and you, Mr Rawlings, might possibly keep him company.’

  ‘I would hate such a task, Sir.’

  ‘I am certain of that. But for all your reticence a sharp pair of eyes will be needed to note her reaction.’

  ‘You mean that she might be responsible for the crime?’

  ‘A jealous wife, a husband with mistresses, a knowledge of the play, for surely she must have had one. What might that add up to in your opinion?’

  ‘It could mean murder,’ said Samuel, speaking for the first time since his return to the theatre. ‘I’ll go, Sir, if John will not.’

  ‘Perhaps you could make the visit together?’

  The Apothecary nodded. ‘Samuel puts me to shame. I’ll certainly accompany him.’

  The Blind Beak smiled. ‘You see how lucky I am, David, to have such an able and willing set of Brave Fellows in these two young people.’

  ‘Lucky indeed,’ Garrick answered drily, obviously considering John and Samuel a couple of upstarts and not worth the time of day.

  ‘And now we must begin the questioning. Joe, have you made a list?’

  The clerk, who was famous for that very thing, promptly produced one from his pocket. ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘And who’s first?’

  ‘Mrs Delaney for Mr Rawlings and Mrs Martin for you. One is pleading her belly as a need to get home, the other an attack of the vapours.’

  The Blind Beak rumbled with laughter. ‘Well, Mr Rawlings, what a fine pair to commence with. There’s little to choose between ’em, so Mr Garrick tells me.’

  But John was not listening, his attention caught by some thing entirely different. He turned to David Garrick. ‘Pleading her belly? Do you mean Mrs Delaney really is pregnant? I thought she was just cleverly padded.’

  The actor-manager winked and suddenly looked extremely human. ‘Bless you, no. She’s Lord Delaney’s wife, that doddery old chap with a fortune and great house to boot. She married him only recently, and now she’s carrying his child – or so it’s said.’

  Mr Fielding’s bandaged gaze veered in Garrick’s direction. ‘So it’s said?’

  ‘Perhaps it’s as well,’ his friend replied succinctly, ‘that dead men tell no tales,’ and he winked once more.

  Chapter Four

  David Garrick had allocated two rooms for the purpose of questioning Jasper Harcross’s fellow actors. But whereas Mr Fielding was able to sit in the relative comfort of the Green Room, John and Samuel, who was acting as John’s clerk and note-taker, found themselves in an area no bigger than a large cupboard. And when three chairs and a table were brought into this confined place there was literally no space to move at all. In fact so bad was the overcrowding, John could only feel grateful that he had not been given the task of interviewing Mrs Martin. Even Mrs Delaney, dainty as a figurine though she normally was, had difficulty in squeezing her rounding shape into the seat opposite his.

  Scowling slightly, the actress said by way of opening grumble, ‘I do hope you are not going to keep me long. I should have been home an hour ago and my husband will be distressed and anxious beyond measure by now. Furthermore, I am with child and it is not wise for me to be out so late.’

  ‘Indeed not,’ John answered, adopting a look of grave concern. ‘In fact, if you will forgive my frankness, I am somewhat surprised that you are still working in the theatre. Surely you must find it very exhausting?’

  ‘I shall be retiring next month,’ the actress answered shortly. ‘By that time I will be in the fifth month of my term. That is quite soon enough to quit work in my opinion. I am an active woman, Mr Rawlings, and detest nothing more than sitting at home with nothing to divert me.’

  ‘But surely Lord Delaney …’

  ‘I don’t see that my husband has anything to do with the matter. I thought I was here to answer questions about the events of tonight.’

  ‘And so you are,’ John replied, putting on his contrite face. ‘You must forgive me. I have this terrible tendency to wander off the point. So let us get down to business. Tell me, what was your relationship with the dead man? You were friends, I presume?’

  ‘The dead …? Oh, you mean poor Jasper.’ For the first time Mrs Delaney’s lips quivered and her cheeks bleached of colour, showing how very pale she was beneath the highly coloured paint she wore for the stage. ‘Well, of course, we had acted together many, many times. We were true working colleagues.’

  ‘And nothing more?’

  She blazed with sudden anger. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand you.’

  ‘Mrs Delaney, forgive me,’ John said firmly. ‘I have already heard that Mr Harcross was a man for the ladies, and you, if you will allow me to say so, are a very beautiful woman. Did he flirt with you?’

  ‘I am married, Sir.’

  ‘Yes, but surely that marriage was only recent. What was your relationship with him before you wed?’

  The actress’s cheeks went from snow to fire. ‘As you said yourself, we were friends.’

  ‘And that is all?’

  This time there was a very long pause and John
found himself being regarded by a pair of vivacious eyes, bright as bluebells but presently dark with thought.

  Eventually Mrs Delaney said, ‘Are you entitled to ask that?’:

  ‘In as much as I am officially acting for Mr Fielding, yes.’

  ‘Well, then, here’s the truth, before you hear some distorted version of it from someone who wishes me ill. Jasper Harcross and I had been sweethearts, that was until I met Lord Delaney. Then I ended the affair. But you are right about his weakness for women. He could not resist them, particularly those who threw themselves at him headlong.’

  ‘And were there many like that?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ she said bitterly. ‘Many.’

  ‘Fellow actresses?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Surely his wife could not have approved of such behaviour?’

  There was a stunned silence followed by a rapid intake of breath, then Mrs Delaney controlled herself. ‘I think your information is incorrect, Sir. Jasper Harcross was not a married man.’

  ‘I’m afraid he was,’ John answered sombrely. ‘Mr Fielding was given that information by Mr Garrick himself. Apparently the lady was kept hidden away in Kensington but, for all that, exists.’

  Before his eyes, the actress cracked. ‘The bastard!’ she screamed. ‘The monstrous bastard! If that is the case he deserved to die! How could he have done that to me?’ And she melted into a rainstorm of hysterical tears.

  With enormous difficulty John rose from his chair, breathing in in order to move. Squeezing his way from behind the table, he put his arm round Mrs Delaney’s shoulders, raising his bottle of smelling salts to her nose.