That the man who killed him — his name escapes me now,nif I ever heard it or knew of it. . . .”n”Frizer. A man called Ingram Frizer.”n”If you say so.”n”Does the name mean anything to you?”n”Nothing at all. I reasonably assumed at the time that thisnman (Frizer did you say?) was not likely to be a worthynfellow of an enviable good repute.”n”Upon what grounds?”n”Kind of place it was. Kind of company he was keeping.”n”Please continue.”n”All that I ever heard was that a jury found Frizer acted innself-defense when he killed Marlowe.”n”Do you believe that?”n”There is nothing for me to believe or to disbelieve. I takenit for what it is, the finding of a jury in a certain case. Sonbe it.”n”Do you care?”n”You keep prodding me in the matter of my caring or notncaring. How can I make this clear and simple to you, sir?n”Look you. You — or, anyway, in your name and at yournorders it has been done — have had me seized off the streetnand dragged and carried away against my will, and in direnperil of my good health and welfare, to this place, this coldnbright cellar. Here you have told me more about myself thannyou have any good right to know. Here you have threatenednme in plain fact and by implication. Here you have kindlynserved me strong wine — and a very good sack it is, too — tonloosen my tongue even as it clouds over the brightness of mynLike so many people, great and small, virtuous andnwicked, young and old, in this late age of the worldn(and there are many who profess to believe this world willnend with the old century and with the reign of our oldnQueen), like so many others, William Barfoot is not what henseems to be. It is his way to pretend to be, in truth,nsomething more and less than he is. And what he truly is nonman alive, perhaps not even the Captain, himself, knowsn16/CHRONICLESnCaptain Barfoot’s Tavern Talknnnmind. And you have examined me closely concerning mynknowledge, and the lack of it, of a dead man, a dissolutenpoet, a man of great gifts and many serious vices. A mannwho may be sorely missed by someone or other, but not sonby me.n”And now, sir, do you know what I have come to think?”n”Pray tell me.”n”I have learned that your interest in me derives mainlynfrom the matter of the life and death of ChristophernMarlowe. And I know for certain and can cheerfully tell younthat you have managed, by an easy enough error, to take thenwrong man to serve your purposes. If only I could serve you,nI would gladly do so, if only for the sake of my hide and hair.nBut since I know nothing beyond what I have already said, Incan only plead with you, sir, to acknowledge your error andnlet me be. Let me go about my humble business. Please, sir,ngive me leave to depart this place and I do solemnly promisento forget that any of this happened.”n”Are you finished speaking?”n”Is there anything left to be said?”n”Not by you, John Hunnyman. And now it is my turn. Tontell you that you have somewhat misjudged us and ournintentions and have under-valued yourself Everything thatnhas been said here tonight confirms that you are the man wenhoped that you would be. And so I deem that you arenprecisely the man to perform the task at hand.”n”What is it you want me to do?”n”To. find out how Marlowe was really killed. And why.”nwith any surety. He is probably a dangerous man, consideringnthe size, the look, the style of him. But who knows?nWho would ever wish to find out?nMeantime, however, among his handful of tavern friends,nhe is taken to be a creature of contradictions. Taken, also, tonbe a creature of habit. But he breaks his own habits andncustoms as often as he knows them.nThe Captain is not, in truth, a man of idle talk or manyn