“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.
“Right,” said Darnley. “It has to be in here someplace. Look around, lads.”
“Jack!” one of the others said. “There’s a big chest right here!”
Darnley glanced around, saw it, and shook his head. “Wrong one,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m bloody sure, you cankerous mongrel, I’ve seen the bloody thing, haven’t I?”
“What about this one, Jack?” another one asked.
He turned. “Nay, nor that one, neither. ‘Tis too new.”
“Jack! I found a chest right here!” another of the boys called out.
“Be quiet, you scurvy crow! You want to bring the watch? Where is it?” Darnley went to take a look. “Nay, nay, ‘tis not the one! Bloody hell! Is this a smithy or a chest-maker’s shop? We are looking for a sea chest! An old sea chest!”
“Jack…” said McEnery.
Darnley turned. McEnery had raised an old saddle blanket under which was an old sea chest. “That is the very one!” “Should we break it open?”
“Nay, ‘twould make too much noise,” said Darnley. “We shall take it with us and find that compartment at our leisure. Lift it up, boys.”
They picked up the chest and started to carry it toward the door.
“Cover up that lantern, Bruce, ‘afore we go outside,” said Darnley. He waited a moment, then snapped back over his shoulder, “I said, cover up that bloody lantern!”
“I did cover it up!”
“Well, then, where the hell’s that light coming from, you pustule?”
They turned around.
“ ‘Allo, Jack,” Ben Dickens said, standing behind them with a lantern. “ ‘Allo, Bruce. Nice night for a break-in, eh boys?”
Smythe stepped out beside him, holding another lantern. “Good to see you again, Jack,” he said. “You know, I have been meaning to speak with you about these lumps you and your boys gave me. I was hoping to pay you back, with interest.”
Darnley gave a small, derisive snort. “Well, well,” he said. “Are we not the clever ones? ‘Tis you who shall be paying, Smythe, my friend. And as for you, Ben, you could have joined us again when you had the chance. You could have shared in all this money. But ‘tis a bit too late now.”
“You truly are a clownish half-wit, Darnley,” Shakespeare said, from over by the door. Liam Bailey stepped out from hiding along with him and threw open the door. “There is no money. There is nothing in that sea chest but old clothes.”