“By itself, it has no great significance, perhaps,” Shakespeare replied. “But when taken together with a few other things, a sort of significance does seem to emerge.”

“What the devil are you talking about?” asked Dickens. “What other things?”

“Well, a gentleman who owns his own merchant ship would doubtless call himself ‘Master’ of that ship,” said Shakespeare, “and so use it as his title, so to speak, as in ‘Master Leonardo.’ But a man who was not a proper gentleman of rank would call himself ‘Captain’ as opposed to ‘Master,’ I should think. He might shorten that somewhat as ‘Cap’n’ if he were English, but if he were a Genoan, I should think he would say ‘Capitan.’ Of course, Kate might have head ‘Capitan’ and rendered it as ‘Cap’n.’ That could be. But then I also wonder at how we found no money anywhere in Leonardo’s house.

“And again, ‘twas not really the sort of house that one might expect a wealthy merchant from Genoa to buy,” Shakespeare continued, taking another sip from his tankard. “We had discussed that, as you will recall. We had thought, perhaps, it may have been only a temporary residence, meant to serve until such time as he could build himself a better one, or mayhap ‘twas only that he was a simple man who did not require much more than a simple house. That could be, as well. But why no coach or carriage? Why no Genoan governess for his lovely and eminently marriageable young daughter? Why only three servants? And why only engage those servants for one week at a time? Good servants are not that difficult to come by, and ‘tis customary for the better classes to engage them for a month or more, at least. Should they not prove suitable, they can always be dismissed. There is no need to tell them that their initial period of employment is probationary; that sort of thing is taken as a matter of course. On the other hand, if a man does not have very much money, but wishes to appear as if he does, then he might well conceal his poverty ‘neath the cloak of practical frugality. And he would drink beer or ale in the local tavern, as opposed to wine.”

“None of this makes any sense to me,” said Molly, looking confused. “What does Ben have to do with any of this?”

“Ben created Master Leonardo,” Shakespeare said. “Or at least, he created him in the sense in which we knew him, as a wealthy merchant trader from Genoa who desired to retire from the sea and settle down in London with his riches. But ‘twas all an elaborate scheme of cony-catching, a very clever and ambitious scheme, indeed. And it very nearly worked, save for one small problem. Along the way, somewhere a mistake was made. A mistake that, sadly, cost a man his life and may yet cost Corwin his, unless we are able to move swiftly. Ben, the time for dissembling is past. We need the truth, and we need it now if we are ever to help your friend, Corwin.”

Dickens sighed and nodded. “Very well. There is no point in trying to hide it any longer. Leonardo was a Genoan only on his mother’s side. His father was an Englishman and he was born in Bristol. I met him in the Netherlands, when I booked passage on his ship. As we grew to know each other, I discovered that he had grown tired of his life at sea. His ship was old and badly in need of repair and refitting, but he could not afford to have the work done. For several years, his luck had run poorly and he was nearly destitute. He had already decided to sell the ship for whatever he could get for it when we arrived in London and try to find some other trade with which to earn his living. And ‘twas then the scheme occurred to me.

“I had made some money of my own while fighting in the foreign wars,” Dickens continued, as the others all hung on every word, “but not nearly as much as I had hoped, not nearly enough to serve my purposes. I desperately needed more. And so I proposed a scheme to Leonardo whereby we both might profit if we played our cards well and wind up wealthy men. All he needed to do when we arrived in England was to sell his ship, just as he had planned. We would then combine our resources and our efforts in an attempt to make our fortunes. The money from the sale of the ship would go to buy a house. Even if ‘twere just a modest house, ‘twould be enough, for he could always claim ‘twas merely a temporary residence until his business interests in London were established and he could build a larger home. But ‘twas here that Leonardo took the risk, for if he spent most of the proceeds from the sale of the ship upon a home, then he would have next to nothing left with which to set himself up in some trade. And indeed, thanks to the poor condition of his ship, that was just what happened.

“He had enough to buy the house,” Dickens went on, “and hire a few servants and stock his larder for a week or so, but beyond that, his money would soon run out. And here was where I would share the risk. My money would go to help maintain the illusion of Master Leonardo. I purchased several suits of clothing for him, tailored in the height of fashion, bought him a new sword, a fine plumed hat, and paid for the carriages he hired. ‘Twas my money he carried in his purse, to make himself look prosperous, and ‘twas my money he had spent in entertaining the conys that we hoped to catch.”

“You mean us?” asked Burgage. “ ‘Twas us you planned to fleece?”

“Nay, Dick, I never meant to cheat the Queen’s Men. I hoped, instead, to become a shareholder in the company. And I had hoped to gain enough money from our scheme to set Corwin up in his own shop, with myself as an investor, for I knew how talented and skilled he was and had no doubt that he would be successful. Leonardo, too, would need to have more money to begin his life anew, and he would need to secure the future for his lovely daughter, Hera, for whom he did not even have a proper dowry. There, I had the answer, for if I knew my friend, then he would see Hera and quickly fall in love with her. And Corwin would not care much about a dowry. I would provide a token one for her, for appearances’ sake, but I knew that I would quickly make it back in partnership with Corwin once his shop was thriving.”

“But for all of this to work, you still needed more money,” Smythe said. “And that was where Henry Darcie came in, was it not?”

“And Master Peters, of course,” said Shakespeare.

“Aye,” Dickens admitted. “Master Peters was to be our first cony, and as for Darcie, he practically begged to be spitted and placed over the fire. With Master Leonardo’s ‘shipping interests’ and connections, there were great opportunities for them both to invest in trading voyages to the colonies and such, which money would, of course, be used by us to forward our own plans. And then, as happens on occasion when men invest in varied projects, things do not always turn out for the best. There are such things as storms at sea, and pirates. Ships are sometimes lost, and with them, all the capital that had financed their voyages. ‘Twould be a shame, really, but nothing could be done. Any such investment carries certain risks.”

“Did Corwin know about any of this?” Smythe asked.

Dickens shook his head. “Of course not. He is as honest as the day is long, God bless him. He never could have countenanced such a scheme. And quite aside from that, his loyalty to Master Peters would never have allowed him to go through with it.”

“Oh, Ben, how could you?” Molly asked. “Why in the name of Heaven would you do such a thing? What could you have been thinking?”

“He was thinking that he needed the money so that he could marry you,” said Shakespeare.

Molly was struck speechless.

“ ‘Twas why he left, you know,” Shakespeare told her, gently. “He never ran away from you; he went off to find his fortune so that he could return to England, become a gentleman, and provide a better life for you. He had even asked Corwin to watch out for you whilst he was gone.”