130 MASTER SKYLARK

across the river? Oh, if Nick could only find him, he
would not let the son of his wife’s own cousin be stolen
away !

Nick looked around quickly.

The play-house stood a bowshot from the river, in the
open fields. There was a moated manor-house near by,
and beyond it a little stream with some men fishing. Be-
tween the play-house and the Thames were gardens and
trees, and a thin fringe of buildings along the bank by the
landings. It was not far, and there were places where one
could get a boat every fifty yards or so at the Bankside.

But—“ Come in, come in,” said Henslowe. “Growling
never fed a dog; and we must be doing.”

“Go ahead, Nick,” said Carew, pushing him by the
shoulder, and they all went in. The door opened on a
flight of stairs leading to the lowest gallery at the right of
the stage, where the orchestra sat. A man was tuning up
a viol as they came in.

“JT want you to hear this boy sing,” said Carew to
Henslowe. “’T' is the best thing ye ever lent ear to.”

“Oh, this is the boy?” said the manager, staring at
Nick. “Why, Alleyn told me he was a country gawk!”

“He lied, then,” said Carew, very shortly. “’I was
cheaper than the truth at my price. There, Nick, go look
about the place—we have business.”

Nick went slowly along the gallery. His hands were
beginning to tremble as he put them out touching the
stools. Along the rail were ornamental columns which
supported the upper galleries and looked like beautiful