'Don't say it!' Agrippa called mockingly. 'Don't accuse me, Roger! I was barely here an hour. You can ask my rogues downstairs. They were stamping around in the garden cursing and muttering because I had promised suitable refreshment at the nearest ale-house.'

'With all due respect, my good Doctor Agrippa,' I mocked back, 'your rogues would use their mother's knucklebones as dice!'

Agrippa sighed and tapped his broad-brimmed hat against his side. 'Whatever you think, I swear I did not kill Throckle! I had no hand in his death nor do I know why he should commit suicide.'

'I don't think it was murder.' Benjamin spoke up. 'I have very little evidence, but' – he stared around the room -'everything is tidy.' He pointed to the writing desk in the far corner, covered with pieces of parchment. Above this were shelves full of calfskin-bound books.

'None of that is disturbed,' he continued. 'But certain papers and parchments were burnt. Look at the grate. Do you notice how tidy it is? As if Throckle burnt what he had to, before carefully preparing for his own death.'

Agrippa walked across to the writing desk. I heard a tinder spark and a candle flared into life.

'You are right!' he cried, picking up a scroll. 'This is the last will and testament of one Sir Edward Throckle, physician, signed and sealed two days ago. Throckle committed suicide,' Agrippa declared triumphantly, coming back and thrusting the scroll at Benjamin. 'But why?' His smile broadened. 'Ah well. That's the mystery!'

Chapter 2

Benjamin snatched the scroll and unrolled it, reading carefully.

'I, Edward Throckle,' he began, 'being of sound mind…' He read it through quickly, lips moving, and looked up in astonishment.

'It says nothing; it's as if Throckle was drawing up a will and intended to live for another three-score years and ten! No hint of any worry, anxiety or malady. In fact, he leaves this house and all his goods to the king.' Benjamin threw the scroll down on the table. 'Come on,' he urged. 'Let's see what other papers we have missed!'