Free The Counterfeit Crank by Edward Marston

up like this.’
    ‘Let me help you,’ she offered.
    With the crutch under one arm, he put a hand on her shoulder and limped back to their refuge. As soon as they left the main thoroughfare, Dorothea undid the rope so that he could lower the leg that had been tied out of sight. Cramp had set in and he was wincing with pain. He rubbed his leg with both hands.
    ‘I hate to see you suffer so,’ she said.
    ‘It was in a good cause, Dorothea. How much did we get?’
    ‘I’ll need two hands to count it.’
    While she struggled to pull out the arm that was hidden beneath her dress, two figures came around the corner with purposeful strides. Hywel saw the constables first and he yelled a warning but, when he tried to run, his weakened leg would not hold him and he fell to the ground. Dorothea bent to help him up but a pair of firm hands pulled her away. The other constable seized Hywel and hauled him to his feet.
    ‘Ah!’ he said with heavy sarcasm. ‘You’ve grown another leg since you left the Raven, have you? And the little lady now has a second arm. Out of kindness, God has seen fit to restore your missing limbs. It means that there’s more of you to arrest.’

Chapter Four
    The first sign of trouble came the following morning. When the rehearsal was over in the yard of the Queen’s Head, and the company was beginning to disperse, Hugh Wegges seized the opportunity for a minute alone with the book holder. Nicholas Bracewell had just finished giving some instructions to George Dart about the position of the stage properties in the opening scene of the play. When he saw his friend approaching, he assumed that it was to discuss some aspect of the costumes. Hugh Wegges was the tireman, the person responsible for making, altering, repairing and looking after the large stock of costumes used by Westfield’s Men.
    ‘A word in your ear, Nick,’ said Wegges.
    ‘I think I know what it will be, Hugh.’
    ‘I doubt that.’
    ‘You wish me to speak sharply to Barnaby Gill,’ saidNicholas. ‘He has torn three different costumes during this morning’s rehearsal and needs to take more care when he cavorts around the stage.’
    ‘I told him that myself. If he tears anything else, then he can repair it. No,’ said Wegges, glancing round to make sure that they were not overheard. ‘I wanted to talk about something else.’
    ‘Speak on.’
    ‘In brief, Nick, I’m sorely pressed for money.’
    Nicholas smiled. ‘That’s a common complaint.’
    ‘My need is greater than most,’ insisted Wegges, ‘or I’d not trouble you. To get to the heart of the matter, I must ask for my wages before they are due.’
    ‘But you’ve only a few days to wait before you are paid, Hugh.’
    ‘One day more would be too long.’
    ‘Is the situation so dire?’
    ‘I fear so.’
    Nicholas was surprised. Wegges had a wife and four children to support and, as a consequence, worked hard and spent little on himself. A dyer by trade, he used his skills to good effect as the tireman, giving dull, old, faded cloth new colour and life. He also used needle and thread expertly and took great pride in the high standard of his work. To help the family’s finances, his wife took in washing and, Nicholas knew, she sometimes helped to repair and clean the troupe’s costumes without charge. Wegges was a short, solid, ginger-haired man in his late thirties with a tendency to grumble, but he was dedicated to Westfield’s Men andbereft when they went on tour and left him in London.
    What puzzled Nicholas was that the tireman was the second person in two days who had asked for his wages in advance. Like Nathan Curtis before him, Wegges was in a predicament of some sort. It was too much of a coincidence.
    ‘May I know the reason for this favour?’ asked Nicholas.
    ‘I’d prefer that you did not.’
    ‘That only makes me more curious, Hugh. Yours is not the only request of this kind. Someone else petitioned me for his wages and, like you, he has