“Madam, this ill becomes you,” sternly said the coroner. “This inquest is over Marlowe. Your husband, as we suspect, killed him. The law in its wisdom prevents you testifying against the murderer, but there is no occasion for this display on your part. Answer me.”
The witness had arisen from her chair and turned her head. She saw the figure on the bed, and started, for at the first glimpse she thought the coroner’s words were true. She recognized the scarlet doublet, vest of the same color, and the rest of the attire as that in which Marlowe had appeared. The face—yes, that was also his, but—no, it was not. She sank back in her chair, and, in full flood, light burst upon her. Marlowe had concealed the crime.
“I know the dead man,” she said firmly, “It is Christopher Marlowe.”
INTO THE LION’S MOUTH.
And tell him that I labor all in vain,
To ease his grief and work his liberty;
And bear him this as witness of my love.
—Edward II, v, 2.
O! give thyself the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight;
For who’s so dumb that cannot write to thee.
—Sonnet, xxxviii.
At the close of Anne’s testimony and while the coroner’s jury was in deliberation, Tamworth had had an opportunity to speak to her. He stated that Marlowe was secreted in the heart of London, but where he would not disclose; that an early meeting was devoutly prayed for, and that the main purpose of his presence at the inquest was to arrange for it; that the church of St. Olave in the Old Jewry was deemed the most convenient place; that she was to be at its entrance upon the following Sabbath night at ten o’clock. This was as much as could be communicated in the short space of time allowed. A ready assent was given by her, and with this, Tamworth left the tavern and returned to London. His departure had been too hasty; for with a delay of a few moments he would have discovered the frustration of his plans for the meeting. By the light of such discovery another tryst might have been arranged but it was darkness that ensued. Anne never appeared before the church of St. Olave.
Tamworth had been careful to avoid raising suspicions that he had anything more than a passing interest in the wife of Francis Frazer. It was this that caused him to leave before the hour which he thought would mark her departure. If he had at any moment entertained the idea that the coroner would bind her over to attend before the Grand Jury, or in Court, he had dismissed such idea with the thought that sureties for her attendance would be readily secured. The coroner did bind her over despite Tamworth’s recent exposition of the law concerning the wife’s incompetency to testify against her husband. She was unable to secure bail.
While Anne was testifying before the coroner in such manner as to secure the peace of Marlowe, Bame was as zealously working for an exactly contrary object. If we should here announce that at length the efforts of Anne became perverted and joined those of the man who worked for destruction, it would seem that this narration was descending to a travesty of life; but such a concatenation of events followed, and it arose as a natural sequence. While Tabbard, with only temporary concern and that mainly of pecuniary character, had brought about the meeting of the lovers, and circumvented the police to his own destruction, she, whose heartstrings were interlaced with those of the man whom the rustic Tabbard had aided, had involved him in an affair which was to eclipse his ascending star, and was to place him in the hands of his arch enemy. When, in the Windmill tavern, Bame had recognized Tabbard and imagined evil from the hobnobbing of the latter with the constable, his fear of a miscarriage of his plot of destruction had been increased by seeing the exultant expression on Tabbard’s face as he destroyed the warrant. At that moment the character of the scattered paper was unknown to him. All that had transpired in the Windmill forced him to the conclusion that he had been outwitted. He had only reached this stage of mind when Tabbard’s glass fell from his hand and the stricken man rolled to the floor. Bame was the first one to reach the victim. He heard his words, and then picked up the largest pieces of the warrant. His apprehensions were verified; Marlowe had escaped him.