“But why should he conceal them,” said the falconer, “when there is a large sum on the head of Mr. Heriot?”
“A large sum, eh! The rogue may not know that.”
It was more to the purpose, perhaps, that the rogue who spoke had not known it. He grew silent. In this business he must go cautiously indeed. It might be possible for one who lived by his wits to take profit from this strange business. At least, in his own mind, he was reasonably sure of two things. The first was that the fugitives were near at hand, the other that the play-actor was in a position to throw light on their whereabouts.
The effect of this conversation was to keep Sir Robert Grisewood very wideawake, and also to implant the seed of distrust in the mind of Markham. It might be, after all, that the player was not so open and honest as he seemed. At any rate, the falconer determined to watch him narrowly. With that end in view he marked all that Shakespeare did. And he soon found more food for his suspicions.
Close observation of the player’s comings and goings enabled Markham to learn that there was a certain room in the upper part of the inn, which claimed a large share of his attention. Much of Shakespeare’s time was spent in it. Another person who had recourse to it was a certain tall man profusely endowed with a beard and moustachios, said to be a foreigner, who had lately joined the Lord Chamberlain’s Company. He was reputed to be a swordsman of much skill, and in proof of it he had lately given Grisewood a thrust through the arm.
The falconer was able to learn that this man, an Italian who went by the name of Bandinello, had a son. And although he, too, had joined the Lord Chamberlain’s Company, and was staying at the Crown, Markham found it impossible to get a sight of him. For one thing, neither of these Italians took their meals with the rest of the players in the dining-parlor, but as the falconer contrived to learn, these were served to them in this upper chamber.
This fact deepened Markham’s suspicions. He did not think, well, however, to confide them to Grisewood. Inquiry of the landlord had been sufficient to fix a very evil reputation upon the man. And it had also served, in a measure, to reassure Markham in respect of the player. The landlord, who seemed a shrewd and honest fellow enough, had no hesitation in affirming that William Shakespeare was a very upright man.
Markham kept to himself his growing belief that the player, for purposes of his own, was concealing the fugitives. But the falconer, once engaged by this train of thought, began to grow more and more certain that he had good ground for his suspicion. A close scrutiny, moreover, convinced him that Signor Bandinello was by no means the individual he gave himself out to be.
Upon reaching this conclusion, Markham determined on a bold course. By hook or by crook, he would get a sight of this boy who was kept so close. Yet only one means seemed to offer of doing this. He must choose a favorable moment, and boldly invade this private room. Doubtless the best time would be when the players were assembled at supper in the dining-parlor.
In accordance with this plan he watched a servant ascend with a tray of food, and then a few minutes later he walked fearlessly into the room.