I looked at his tall, rangy form, noticing that under his short student’s robe he wore a green doublet slashed so the lining of fine yellow damask showed through, contrary to the Inn regulations that students must wear modest dress.

‘Keep looking, but calm down, Nicholas,’ I said. ‘You did not take the conveyance out of this office?’ I asked sharply,

‘No, Master Shardlake. I know that is not permitted.’ He had a cultivated voice with an undertone of a Lincolnshire burr. His face, long-nosed and round-chinned, was distressed.

‘Nor is wearing a slashed silken doublet. Do you want to get into trouble with the Treasurer? When you have found the conveyance, go home and change it.’

‘Yes, sir,’ he answered humbly.

‘And when Mistress Slanning comes this afternoon, I want you to sit in on the interview, and take notes.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And if that conveyance still isn’t found, stay late to find it.’

‘Is the burning over?’ Skelly ventured hesitantly.

‘Yes. But I do not want to talk about it.’

Barak looked up. ‘I have a couple of pieces of news for you. Good news, but private.’

‘I could do with some.’

‘Thought you might,’ he answered sympathetically.

‘Come into the office.’

He followed me through to my private quarters, with its mullioned window overlooking Gatehouse Court. I threw off my robe and cap and sat behind my desk, Barak taking the chair opposite. I noticed there were odd flecks of grey in his dark-brown beard, though none yet in his hair. Barak was thirty-four now, a decade younger than me, his once lean features filling out.

He said, ‘That arsehole young Overton will be the death of me. It’s like trying to supervise a monkey.’

I smiled. ‘Fie, he’s not stupid. He did a good summary of the Bennett case papers for me last week. He just needs to get himself organized.’

Barak grunted. ‘Glad you told him off about his clothes. Wish I could afford silk doublets these days.’

‘He’s young, a bit irresponsible.’ I smiled wryly. ‘As you were when first we met. At least Nicholas does not swear like a soldier.’

Barak grunted, then looked at me seriously. ‘What was it like? The burning?’

‘Horrible beyond description. But everyone played their part,’ I added bitterly. ‘The crowd, the city officials and Privy Councillors sitting on their stage. There was a little fight at one point, but the soldiers quelled it quickly. Those poor people died horribly, but well.’

Barak shook his head. ‘Why couldn’t they recant?’

‘I suppose they thought recantation would damn them.’ I sighed. ‘Well, what are these pieces of good news?’

‘Here’s the first. It was delivered this morning.’ Barak’s hand went to the purse at his waist. He pulled out three bright, buttery gold sovereigns and laid them on the table, together with a folded piece of paper.

I looked at them. ‘An overdue fee?’