'No, master. He's a very peaceful citizen.'

'And why does this worthy fellow lack work?'

'I don't know.'

'He must have some defects.'

'None that I could see. Will vouched for him.'

'Where did Ruff play last?'

'With Banbury's Men,' said Nicholas.. 'Banbury's Men!'

Firethorn's exclamation rang through the whole house. His interest in Samuel Ruff had just come to an end. The Earl of Banbury and Lord Westfield were sworn enemies who lost no opportunity to score off each other. Their respective dramatic companies were major weapons in the feud and they regarded each other with cold hatred. Banbury's Men had been in the ascendant at first but they had now been displaced by Westfield's Men. In the shifting world of London theatre, it was Lawrence Firethorn and his company who now held the upper hand and they were not willing to relinquish it.

'Meet him, at least,' pressed Nicholas.

'He is not the man for us.'

'But he fell foul of Banbury's Men through no fault of his own. He was forced to leave.'

'I will not employ him, Nick. It's unthinkable.'

'Then we must cancel the performance as soon as may be.'

'Hold! I will not gallop into this.'

'The others will be shocked by your decision.'

'It has not been made yet.'

'Give Samuel a chance,' whispered Nicholas. 'He's the man for the hour.'

'Not with that pedigree.'

'Do you know why he left Banbury's Men?'

'I don't care,' snapped Firethorn.

'Shall I tell you what his crime was?'

'Forget him.' He spoke in praise of you.'

There was a pause that was just long enough for the first seed of interest to take root. Nicholas carefully watered it with a few details.

'Giles Randolph took exception to what was said.'

'Randolph is an amateur!'