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guessed, by the tone of his voice. Abe spent much of his time below stairs, fixing dainty dishes for Annabelle and waiting on her like a servant. Yet he was supposed to be her husband. And all the while, Annabelle, so gay, pretty and always so smart in her gowns, entertained the ladies who came to visit her in her private sitting room. Annabelle certainly had plenty of friends in the right places. She and Abe chose to live out here, a long way from the nearest town. And now here in Thomas’ wallet lay a letter for Annabelle from the Countess Frances. He could not but wonder what was behind it all.
    Another odd feature of the Lane’s house was Merlin, who lived in an attic at the top of the house. He was a strange creature who only appeared occasionally at meal times, as he did this morning as Thomas and Will sat in the kitchen. Merlin was tall and thin, and he always wore a long flapping gown which was covered with paint spots in multitudinous colours, oil and grease and even ink. Indeed, it was impossible to tell what the original colour of the garment was. His hair was long and he sported a straggly beard which was also stained with many colours, while his eyes, shining like black shoe buttons, never missed a thing.
    ‘Morning, Merlin, got up nice and early,’ chattered Will.
    Merlin grunted and examined the shape of Will’s shaven head very carefully, feeling and touching it all over. Then he pulled from a pocket a small trumpet-like object with which he proceeded to listen to Will’s heart. ‘The head’s the same,’ he muttered as he passed over to the stove and helped himself to porridge before toddling off again.
    ‘I’ll send you my head when I am dead, Merlin,’ Will called out after him.
    ‘’Twill be sooner than thee thinks,’ retorted old Merlin as he disappeared out of the room.
    Annabelle had eaten her breakfast and was now up and about. She came forward to greet Thomas looking very attractive with her wide smile and tip-tilted nose. But she always looked good, a fact that Annabelle was very much aware of. She always flirted with any male she fancied, and it usually worked. Even Dour Thomas had fallen under her spell and liked Annabelle very much.
    ‘How is my Lady?’ Annabelle now asked Thomas brightly as Thomas handed her the letter.
    ‘As fair and as far away as ever,’ replied Thomas.
    ‘Poor unhappy little thing. It’s terrible for her in that great house away from the court and her devoted family.’ Annabelle wiped away an unconvincing tear.
    Thomas did not answer. He was not concerned with such things. His task was only to deliver the message, collect Annabelle’s message for Robert Carr, and be away again.
    ‘I must go to Merlin,’ Annabelle said, turning away from Thomas. She then hurried across the floor with her black silk gown rustling, and her little embroidered cap sitting jauntily on her fair curls.
    Old Abe swept the red brick floor of the kitchen with a broom of birch twigs. He did not say a word, merely glancing up from under his bushy brows as Annabelle swept past him.
    ‘They say the plague is returning to London,’ Abe told Thomas when his wife had gone.
    ‘I had better stay here,’ said Will caressing a young milkmaid.
    ‘So you’ll stay here then, Will?’ Thomas got up from the bench.
    ‘Yes, I’ll stay for the spring fair. Mind how you ride Thomas.’
    Astride his mount once more and the precious sealed package for Robert Carr, which Annabelle had slipped him before he left, in his wallet, Thomas rode down into the Lea valley until he came to the familiar little brook. This he followed as it rippled and gurgled on its way through the marshland until the tall tower of Brook House came in view. Then he was on his way to the Duke’s Head in Hackney.
     
    There had been quite a bit of excitement at the Duke’s Head recently. Betsy had not been her usual good-tempered self at all, the reason being that the previous night her brother Rolly had run off. He had