Death at the Beggar's Opera Read Online Free PDF

‘We can’t lower him. There isn’t the mechanism.’
    ‘Then cut the rope for pity’s sake. Let me tend to him. I am an apothecary.’
    Mr Garrick’s famous tones came from above. ‘Do what the fellow says for the love of God. Dick? Where’s Dick?’
    ‘Here, Sir,’ said one of the shirt-sleeved men whom John had noticed earlier helping to change the set.
    ‘Get the curtains closed and the poor soul cut down. And clear the stage and send everyone home while you’re about it.’
    ‘Wait, Sir,’ John called out to Garrick. ‘I don’t think the actors should go, not just yet.’
    ‘Why not?’ asked Clarice Martin belligerently, between heaving sobs.
    ‘Just in case,’ answered the Apothecary enigmatically.
    And with that warning he hurled his shoulder against the box bearing the gallows and was pleased to hear the planking give. It was hollow inside, constructed round wooden scaffold poles, the whole thing running on concealed casters so that it could be pushed easily round the stage. As he tore at the wood with his bare hands, trying to make a hole big enough to step through, John could glimpse Jasper Harcross’s dangling legs in their high boots, and the very limpness of the way they hung told him the actor was dead. Yet still he strove, until at last the Apothecary was able to squeeze inside and stand within the wooden shell. With a desperate move, he grasped Jasper round the knees in order to take the weight off the poor man’s neck.
    Looking up, John could see through the broken platform that Dick was now standing on what was left of it, held by the Hangman so that he did not topple forward. With his left hand he held the rope and in his right a knife, which he was using to hack through the rigging.
    ‘Is he dead?’ he called down to John, seeing his upturned face.
    ‘I’m sure he is,’ the Apothecary answered quietly.
    ‘But how could it happen? The scene worked perfectly at the dress rehearsal.’
    ‘Perhaps the boards have rotted since.’
    ‘No, there’s no chance of that. We always use new planking at Drury Lane. Particularly with an effect as dangerous as this one.’ His voice became business-like. ‘The rope’s almost cut through. Do you want someone to help you catch him as he drops?’
    ‘There’s no room in here. I’ll have to manage on my own. But once he’s down can you get this thing lifted off us? I daren’t move him, you see.’
    ‘I’ll tell the stagehands to stand by. Now, are you ready?’
    ‘Yes,’ said John, but he wasn’t, not at all.
    He had only been freed from his indentures during the summer of 1754, just past, and all the teachings of his old Master were fresh in his mind. Therefore John Rawlings knew well that to fear the dead was ridiculous, for only the living could harm a mortal man. Yet there was something about the way in which Jasper Harcross crashed into his arms, so heavily and so dead a weight that it sent him flying, that made the Apothecary’s flesh seethe upon his bones. Lying flat on the stage with the dead man on top of him, his blind eyes gazing into John’s own, it was all he could do, trained apothecary or no, to stop himself letting out a cry of pure terror. Yet old instincts die hard. Longing as he was to push the corpse away, John slid out from underneath it as gently as he could, knowing that to disturb the evidence was the very last thing that anyone investigating the death would wish.
    There was a great sound of heaving and the box was suddenly lifted up and away. John blinked in the glare of the lights, then began his examination, able to see clearly at last. Very gently turning Jasper Harcross over, he put his hand on the actor’s heart, simultaneously bending low to listen for any sign of breath. Much as he had expected, there was nothing. Steadfastly ignoring the crowd of actors and backstage staff who had gathered round to watch, John delicately eased the noose from the dead man’s neck.
    In cases of hanging there were two