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actors.’
    ‘Perhaps Mr Garrick could make an announcement.’
    ‘Mr Garrick is in a worse mood than the rest of them put together.’
    ‘Oh dear,’ sighed John, and was just about to take responsibility for sending the actors to the dressing rooms when there was a sound from the stage door. Listening intently, the Apothecary smiled to himself. Slowly and inexorably came the steady beat of a tapping cane. The Blind Beak, the great John Fielding, had not only arrived but was approaching the scene of the murder.
    John could not resist it. He cleared his throat and said importantly, ‘Pray silence, ladies and gentlemen, for the Principal Magistrate.’
    Instantly there was quiet, and into that stillness the rapping of the stick grew ever louder. And then there was a rustle in the wings and suddenly John Fielding was there, his vast frame filling the dark space, the curls of his wig brushing against his strong features as he turned his bandaged eyes in the direction of the assembled company.
    ‘David?’ he called in his powerful voice, and instantly Garrick got to his feet and crossed the space between them.
    ‘My dear friend,’ said the actor, embracing the Magistrate as if they were long lost brothers. ‘How very good of you to come in person.’
    ‘It was the least I could do in view of our old acquaintanceship,’ the Blind Beak answered, and John felt faintly astonished until he remembered Mr Fielding’s half brother, Henry, and his lengthy association with Drury Lane.
    As if picking up the Apothecary’s train of thought, Garrick continued, ‘I was so distressed to hear of Henry’s death last month. We have lost a fine author and playwright alas.’
    The Beak nodded solemnly. ‘What saddens me is that he is buried in Lisbon, whence he had travelled for the sake of his health. I would rather that such a great Englishman was laid to rest at home.’
    Garrick’s mobile features adopted such a grave expression that John, in any other circumstance, would have found it difficult not to smile at the theatricality of his response.
    ‘I fear Henry’s passing has heralded disaster,’ the actor said, sighing gustily. ‘Poor Jasper was killed on stage last night and a young apothecary who claims to be your assistant – I trust he is, by the way – says that his death was not accidental.’
    ‘I take it Mr Garrick is referring to you, Mr Rawlings?’ the Blind Beak asked, turning his head in John’s direction just as if he could see him.
    ‘He is, Sir.’
    ‘Then be assured, my dear friend, that the Apothecary and I have indeed worked together before. Now then, Mr Rawlings, be so good as to tell me exactly why you believe what you do.’
    ‘The planking beneath the man’s feet had been sawn through to the point where it only needed his weight upon them for them to break. Consequently, Mr Harcross fell through the holes in the gallows’ platform.’
    ‘And …?’
    ‘As he had a noose round his neck at the time, acting out the hanging of Macheath, that fall proved fatal.’
    ‘I see. Where is the body now?’
    ‘More or less where it landed after it was cut down. I had to turn the victim over in order to examine him but he hasn’t been moved since.’
    ‘And where are the rest of the actors?’
    ‘Still on stage. And in mighty high stirrup, most of them.’
    ‘I’ll speak to them.’ Mr Fielding raised his voice. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I greatly regret that you have been kept waiting after such a very shocking experience, but I do hope that you will understand the reason. In a case of wilful murder, as the death of your colleague certainly would appear to be, it is essential that we question everyone as soon as possible before their memory of the event fades. Therefore, if Mr Garrick can put some rooms at my disposal, we shall get that task over quickly. Then you may all change and return to your homes.’
    He turned his head. ‘Joe, are you there?’
    ‘Indeed I am, Sir,’ answered his clerk,