It was as if Jack had become another man entirely. This was the Jack Darnley that always seemed to be the center of attention, the one the girls all liked so much, the charmer and the wit. But he knew another side of Darnley, a much more dangerous side that he both feared and respected. And also idolized. It was the Jack Darnley who had slashed away repeatedly at Master Leonardo while the others held him, demanding to know where he kept the money.

“Eh? And who might you be?” Speed asked, in a slurred voice.

“The name’s Jack,” said Darnley, holding out his hand to Speed. “Everyone knows me around here. What’s your name, friend?”

“Bob-bobby,” Speed replied. His cheeks puffed out and then he belched profoundly.

“Well, Bobby, you look as if you could use another drink,” said Darnley, clapping him on the shoulder. “Something to drown that frog in your throat, eh?” He signaled the serving wench to bring more beer.

“You give him much more an’ he’ll pass out,” one of the other Steady Boys said.

“Oh, now, never fear, Henry,” Darnley replied. “Ole Bobby looks like a man who knows how to hold his drink. Is that right, Bobby?”

“Ri… riiiiiiiight!” Speed belched in response.

“A ripper!” Darnley exclaimed. He took the pitcher from the serving wench and refilled Speed’s tankard. “Bottoms up, eh?”

He picked up his own tankard and made as if to drink, but refrained while Speed quickly quaffed his down.

“Now that’s the way to do it, eh?” Darnley said. “You know, they tell me that you work with my good friend, Tuck Smythe.”

“Ah. Good ole Tuck. Here’s to ‘im!”

“Right, here’s to him,” Darnley said, refilling Speed’s tankard and watching as he drank. His tone was jovial, but his dark eyes were like a predator’s, sharp and intense. “You know, Tuck was saying something about that Genoan merchant who got killed the other day. Methinks his name was Leonardo, was it not? We have all been talking about that. Terrible thing.”

“Aye, terrible, terrible,” said Speed, nodding so loosely it seemed as if his head would roll right off his neck. “Poor bloke.” He held up one finger dramatically. “But despite it all, they still didn’t get ‘is money!”

“They?” said Darnley, softly. “But I thought there was just one killer. And they have him locked up in the Marshalsea.”

“Hah!“ Speed barked, swaying slightly on his stool. “Hah! That’s what they think!” He leaned close to Darnley, conspira-torially. “Tuck says they got the wrong man!”

“Do they, indeed?” Darnley said. “How does he know?”

“Said so. Said Corwin ‘ad no money on ‘im when ‘e was arrested. A few crowns, is all. So if ‘e robbed the Genoan, then where’s all the money, eh? Where is it?”

Darnley looked mystefied. “I have no idea, Bobby. Where?”

“Need ‘t ‘ave ‘nother drink,” slurred Speed.

“And so you shall,” said Darnley, refilling his tankard from the pitcher. He watched intently as Speed drank with greedy swallows. “So,” he said, when Speed set down the tankard, “what did Tuck say happened to the money?”

“ ‘Twas all stashed away, y’know,” said Speed.

Darnley’s eyes lit up. “Where?”

“Ssshhh! ‘Tis a secret?” Speed whispered, putting his finger to his lips.

Darnley lowered his voice. “I shall not tell a soul! Cross my heart!” He performed the gesture. “However did Tuck know the Genoan’s money was all stashed away?”

“The daughter told ‘im,” Speed replied.

“Leonardo’s daughter?”

“Aye.” Speed’s cheeks puffed out again and a low rumble issued from his throat. He patted his stomach. “Settle down there,” he said, and then broke wind prodigiously.

“S’trewth!” said McEnery, waving his hand before his face. “Smells like something bloody died in there!”

“Be quiet, Bruce,” said Darnley, softy, but the tone of his voice demanded immediate obedience. McEnery fell silent instantly. “So the wench knew where the money was hidden?”

“Aye, she did,” said Speed. “Gold coins, moneys o’ account and letters o’ credit and what all… a bloody fortune, Tuck said. All stashed away! An’ they never even found it! Leonardo took the secret to ‘is grave! The poor, old sod.”

“Astonishing!” said Darnley, pouring him more beer. “And so where was it all hidden?”

“In a chest!” said Speed.

Darnley’s eyes narrowed. “A chest! The devil you say! He had all that money just hidden in a chest? Why, ‘tis not a very clever hiding place, if you ask me. You might think that anyone could find it in a chest.”

“Ooooh, ‘twas a special chest, this one,” said Speed, leaning close to him and nearly falling off his stool. “Wif a secret compartment inside it! Sssh! Mustn’t let anybody know, Tuck said. ‘Tis a secret?” He held up his forefinger and moved it around unsteadily in front of his mouth, but could not seem to make the connection between the finger and his lips.

“Mum’s the word,” said Darnley. “Where is this chest now? Still at the merchant’s house?”

“Nah,” said Speed, shaking his head, then grabbing it with both hands, as if to steady it. “Hooo! Head spinnin’ round!”

“Have some more beer,” said Darnley, pouring. “Hair o’ the dog. Settle things down. So… what happened to this chest?”

“Tuck an’ Ben brought it to the shop,” said Speed, “for safe-keepin’.”

“You mean Liam Bailey’s shop?” asked Darnley, his gaze so intense that his eyes seemed to glitter.

“Aye,” said Speed, nodding heavily. “For safe… keepin’.” He slumped forward and his head struck the table with a thud.

“Bobby?” Darnley said. He reached out and took a handful of Speed’s hair and raised his head up, then let it drop back down onto the table. “Dead to the world,” he pronounced.

“The chest!” McEnery said, eagerly. “I remember that old chest!”

“Bloody old sea chest,” Darnley said.

“Heavy old thing,” said McEnery. “We just dumped it out onto the floor. Damn! We should have looked at it more closely! But who would have thought it had a secret compartment?”

“ ‘Twould be just like a rich man to hide all his money inside a battered old chest, where no one would think to look,” said Darnley. “But now we know just where to look, don’t we?”

“In Liam Bailey’s shop,” McEnery said, with an ugly grin.

“Get the lads together,” Darnley said.

McEnery gathered all the Steady Boys and they trooped outside into the street. No sooner were they gone than Bobby Speed raised his head up off the table and glanced around. “They gone?” he asked.

At the next table over, John Fleming, Dick Burbage, Will Kemp, Gus Phillips, and John Hemings heaved deep sighs of relief and loosened their grips on the clubs and daggers concealed beneath their cloaks. “All gone,” said Fleming. “Lord, I do believe it worked!”

“And the sooner we are gone, as well, the better I shall like it,” Kemp said, swallowing nervously. “Zounds! My heart is beating like a drum!”

Tom Pope and George Bryan came over from a nearby table where they had been watching and sat down with Speed. “Bobby, you were bloody marvelous! What a wonderful performance!” Bryan said, clapping his friend on the back.

“ ‘Twas nothing, mate,” said Speed, pouring out the remnants of the beer from the pitcher into his tankard. “ ‘Twould take a lot more than this weak, watery brew to get me drunk. Cheers, then!” He raised the tankard and drained it in a couple of swallows.

It was growing late by the time the Steady Boys reached Liam Bailey’s blacksmith shop. The streets were deserted and only a few lights burned here and there. Darnley quickly gave commands and McEnery posted lookouts to keep an eye out for the watch. Once they satisfied themselves that there was nobody in sight, they quickly broke open the lock upon the heavy wooden door and went inside.

They made sure that the shutters were all tightly closed, and then McEnery raised the small lantern they had brought and uncovered it. It did not throw forth very much light, but it was enough for them to find their way around inside the shop.