g there, just 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. Between 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.

"I want you to hear this boy sing," said Carew to Henslowe. "'Tis 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. "'Twas 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
blue-veined white marble; but when he took hold of them to steady
himself he found they were only painted wood.

There were two galleries above. They ran all around the inside of the
building, like the porches of the inn at Coventry, and he could see them
across the house. There were no windows in the gallery where he was, but
there were some in the second one. They looked high. He went on around
the gallery until he came to some steps going down into the open space
in the center of the building. The stage was already set up on the
trestles, and the carpenters were putting a shelter-roof over it on
copper-gilt pillars; for it was beginning to drizzle, and the middle of
the play-house was open to the sky.

The spectators were already coming into the pit at a penny apiece,
although the play would not begin until early evening. Those for the
galleries paid another penny to a man in a red cloak at the foot of the
stairs where Nick was standing. There was a great uproar at the
entranc