He would have gone to bed, but Joan was crashing around in the kitchen, and he knew he would never sleep through the racket. He wondered how Hannah could, but a visit to the bedroom showed him that she had stuffed her ears with rags. Lethargically, he walked to the Rainbow Coffee House, hoping a dish of Farr’s poisonous brew would sharpen his wits. The only customer at that hour was Grey, the Adventurer who had caused such consternation by disappearing with a woman. He was sitting in the corner, crying softly. ‘Weeping for Turner and Lucas,’ explained Farr in a low voice. ‘They died in a fire last night, along with Turner’s family and servants. Twelve people in all. A terrible tragedy.’ To give Grey privacy, Chaloner picked up The Newes, just off the presses that morning, and began to read. Home news comprised two main reports: that Dover expected to be invaded by the Dutch at any moment because the wind was in the right direction, and that a purple bed-cloth had been stolen from Richmond.
