Gawger took another deep breath. ‘About three weeks ago, sir – it was at the start of the month – one of my fellow guards approached me in lodgings. Michael Leeman. I did not know him well – he had not made himself popular, he was one of the radicals, always telling us to amend our souls.’

‘Really?’ I leaned forward with interest.

‘He said the palace soldiery were mired in sin and that when his term was done he would go to new friends he had, godly friends.’

‘Do you know who they were?’

Gawger shook his head. ‘I’m not sure. But they lived somewhere around St Paul’s, I think. He was always off there during his free time. But I steer clear of talk about religion. It’s dangerous.’ He stopped, breathing rapidly now, perhaps realizing that he was in deep danger. The rules governing the Queen’s Guard were strict, and I had little doubt that what Gawger was about to confess to constituted treason. I took a deep breath.

He continued, a whining, desperate note in his voice now. ‘I – I have had money troubles, sir. I have been playing cards with some of my fellows. I lost money. I thought I could win it back, but lost more. I appealed to my father; he has helped me before, but he said he had no more to spare. If I did not find the money soon I knew there would be a scandal, I would lose this post, have to return home in disgrace – ’ Suddenly he laughed wildly. ‘But that was nothing to what will happen now, is it sir? I gambled everything on this throw, and lost.’

‘And exactly what was this throw Leeman wanted you to make?’

‘He was in the middle of a fortnight’s evening duty. He told me he had had a dalliance with one of the chamber servant women and had left a pair of monogrammed gloves, that could be traced to him, in the Queen’s Long Gallery. He had taken this girl in there when no one else was around. If the gloves were discovered both of them would be dismissed.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘And him such a man of God?’