Other women might have moved away or married again but Anne Hendrik was committed to the house and its associations. Having no children, she lacked company and decided to take in a lodger. He soon became rather more than that.

'Is that you, Nicholas?' she called.

'Yes.'

‘You're late.'

'There was no need for you to wait up.'

'I was worried about you.'

Anne came out to the front door as he closed it behind him. When she saw him by the light of the candles, her comely features were distorted with alarm.

'You're hurt!' she said, rushing to him.

'No, Anne.'

'But there's blood on your hands, and on your clothing.'

'It's not mine,' he soothed.

'Has there been trouble, Nick?'

He nodded. 'Will Fowler.'

'What happened?'

They adjourned to his chamber. Anne fetched him a bowl of water so that he could clean himself up and Nicholas Bracewell told her what had occurred at the Hope and Anchor. He was still very shaken by it all. Anne was deeply distressed. Though she had only met Will Fowler a few times, she remembered him as a lively and loquacious man with a fund of amusing stories about the world of the playhouse. It seemed perverse that his life should be snuffed out so quickly and cheaply.

'Have you no idea who the man was?' she asked.

'None,' said Nicholas grimly. 'But I will catch up with the fellow one day.'

'What of this Master Ruff?'

'He was as stricken as I was, Anne. I helped him to find a new lodging for the night. He could not bear to stay in the place where Will had been murdered.'

'You should have brought him back here,' she offered.