Elizabeth shook her head. "Nay, she had not. We had been together all that time. And Antonia was with us and may vouch for that."
Smythe frowned and gave her a sharp glance. "Why would she need to?"
Elizabeth grimaced. "You would not ask that had you seen the way the sheriff's men behaved," she said. "They were very boorish and suspicious."
"They merely want someone to deliver up to the hangman for the crime," said Smythe contemptuously. "I believe they would have arrested me and Will for it if they thought they could have pinned the blame upon us without too much trouble."
"Well, Portia could never have done such a terrible thing," Elizabeth replied. "In any event, she was with me and Antonia when it must have happened."
"How did she respond to their questioning?" Smythe asked. "She could not speak with them," Elizabeth replied. "She ran from the room, sobbing with grief. I was left to answer all of their questions, and then I gave those ruffians a good talking-to for the way they treated her!"
"I should imagine that you did," Smythe said with a smile, easily able to picture it. "'Where was your father during all this?"
"He was away on business," she replied. "Else he would have had a thing or two to say about it, too!"
"I have no doubt," said Smythe, feeling at least momentarily relieved. "And your mother?"
"In the country, visiting her sister," said Elizabeth. "And just as well, I should say. I see no reason to trouble my parents with any of this."
"Nor do I," said Smythe, nodding. "At least, not unless anything should happen that might involve you further. Well then, given what they had heard from Will and me, and what they learned from you this morning, I would gather that they next went to Henry Mayhew's house. I take it that Antonia ,vas there with you, as well, when the sheriff's men came?"
"Nay, she had gone home to her husband yester-night," Elizabeth replied, "after we had failed to find Thomas."
"So then you never went to his room across the street from Leffingwell's?"
She shook her head. "There was no reason, as Master Leffingwell had said he was not there." She shuddered. "Thank God we had not gone there. Then we should have found him slain."
"A sad business, indeed," said Smythe. "I wonder if they have arrested Henry Mayhew?"
"Do you suppose he did it?" Elizabeth asked.
Smythe shook his head. "I do not know. what sort of man is he?"
"Well .. I should not think he was the sort who would be capable of murder," Elizabeth replied, "bur then one never truly knows, does one?"
"Nay, one does not," Smythe agreed. "If there is one thing I have learned, Elizabeth, 'tis that most any man could be capable of murder, given the right circumstances and the provocation."
"Even you?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"Aye, even me," he said. "In truth, I can imagine certain circumstances that could drive me to it, such as if some villain were to harm… someone that I cared about."
She gave him a sidelong glance. '"You mean Will?" she asked, in a slightly mocking tone.
"Well, Will is my closest friend," he said, a little awkwardly. "But I can think. of others on who
se behalf I might be moved to some act of violence, if the occasion warranted."
"If the occasion warranted," she repeated. "Aye, there's the rub, indeed. Who is to say what sort of occasion may warrant such a deed? You? Or I? Or Portia's father? If he believed that his daughter had been disgraced or, worse yet, defiled, might he not consider that an occasion which warranted an act of violence? Or even murder?"
"I suppose that would depend upon what he believed may have occurred and how strongly he detested Jews," he replied. "Strangely enough, come to think of it, 'twas the desire to learn more about the Jews that started all of this."
"Indeed?" Elizabeth asked with a slight frown. "How so?"
Briefly, Smythe explained to her how he and Will had met with Robert Greene and how that, in turn, had led to the discussion of Marlowe's Jew of Malta) which Shakespeare had deter-mined to surpass.
"So that was why you went to see Ben Dickens?" asked Elizabeth. "So that Will could find out if he knew any Jews?"
"Aye," said Smythe. "Ben is the most well-travelled person that we know, and we supposed perhaps he might have met some in his soldiering days. Little did we suspect that we were about to meet one in the flesh." He frowned. "Although I must admit, the thought of Thomas being a Jew did not impress itself upon my mind especially, save that he had mentioned it as being the reason for his troubles. Otherwise, he seemed much like any other man."