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steal horses wherever opportunity appeared. It was with the animal that Nicholas would start his search. He was convinced that the girl had been struck down in order to stop her passing on some news of vital import to him. Reluctant even to consider the idea of returning home, he yet knew that the only way to find out who she was and what tidings she bore was to go back once more to Devon. If that mystery were unravelled, he would have a clearer idea of why the young messenger was murdered and by whose fell hand.
    Anne Hendrik had been on edge since the unheralded visitor first tottered across her threshold, and nothing that had occurred since had relieved her disquiet or eased the growing tension between her and Nicholas. Indeed, she was so upset that she pointedly ignored her lodger and askedthe surgeon to escort her and her servant back to her house. When the man went off with the two women, Nicholas gave the coroner a fuller account of the circumstances and of his own involvement in the case. He made application for custody of the victim’s horse so that he could take it back to its rightful owner in Devon and explain what had befallen its rider. The girl would have anxious parents or a concerned employer with the right to know of her misfortune.
    After close questioning of his witness, the coroner judged him to be a man of good reputation and sound character. Nicholas gave stern undertakings and signed a document that bound him to his stated purpose on the penalty of arrest. He then took charge of the horse and mounted it at once to ride straight back to the Queen’s Head. When he trotted into the yard, he questioned all the ostlers to see if any of them remembered having seen the roan before. They handled too many horses in the course of a day to be sure, but one of them vaguely recalled stabling the animal along with another around noon. A young man had dismounted from the roan. His companion had been much bigger, older and in the attire of a merchant.
    Nicholas took this ambiguous description off to the cellar to see if Leonard could correct or add to it. The affable giant was in the process of lifting a barrel of ale onto his shoulder when his friend came down the stone steps, and he put it back down again in order to give a proper greeting. Leonard was only too eager to help but he could contribute no significant new details about the victim’s companion. What he was certain about was the fact that the older man had more or less forced the boy – as he still thought him – to finish his pint of ale.
    ‘And the tankard was emptied?’ said Nicholas.
    ‘I stood over him while he supped the last drops. Not that it gave him any pleasure.’ Leonard scratched his beard. ‘Lord knows why. It was our best ale yet he drank it down as slow as if it were hot pitch.’
    ‘In some sorts, it was.’
    ‘Why, master?’
    ‘I believe that tankard was poisoned.’
    Nicholas explained and the massive visage before him first lit up with surprise – ‘A girl? Drinking in a tavern in the guise of a man?’ – then crumpled with sorrow and bewilderment. Aware of how important even the tiniest shred of evidence was, Leonard now began to cudgel his brain unmercifully but it could yield little more than had already been disclosed. Girl and travelling companion had been alone together, he could vouch for that. A third person might have tampered with the ale but the balance of probability pointed to the older man as the culprit. No other visitor to the Queen’s Head that day had been struck down by poison, so the fault could not be laid at Alexander Marwood’s door.
    ‘Who served them with their ale?’
    ‘One of the wenches.’
    ‘Find her out and bring her to me directly.’
    ‘Could you not go into the taproom yourself, master?’
    ‘I could,’ said Nicholas, ‘but I do not want to make the landlord any more choleric. Bridges must be mended before Master Marwood and I can speak cordially again. The less he sees of