“Your husband was one?”
Before Tamworth could interpose an objection, the witness answered by a question, “Why ask so foolish a question?”
Tamworth smiled, and although he knew the occasion of the witness’ inquiry, he looked at the coroner and said: “See, she knoweth the rights of a wife and will not answer. There is no law to compel her.”
Anne looked thankfully at her champion; and, although she could not perceive how any answers could in any way affect her dead husband, she could see that the coroner considered the lawyer’s admonitions seriously. To know that she was not wholly alone in her extremity, gave her additional strength. The words of Marlowe, “Canst thou keep this secret?” rang in her ears. They had steeled her against disclosure of his name and the account of the combat.
Now came the question, “Do you know the dead man, Christopher Marlowe?”
The witness started at the name. It was the first time it had been mentioned. But it was not so much that fact as the way in which it was coupled. Marlowe! the dead man! She stared at the coroner with curious expression. It was one of wonder growing into terror.
“I do not understand you,” she said, with trembling voice. “The dead man, Christopher Marlowe?”
“Yes, he who was murdered by—”
“Dead, murdered, when?” she interrupted, grasping the arms of the chair and leaning forward.
“’Tis well acted,” whispered the landlord.