The Repentant Rake

Chapter Eleven

When he returned to Fetter Lane that evening, Christopher Redmayne met with a double surprise. Not only was Jonathan Bale waiting for him, an even more welcome visitor was sitting contentedly in his parlour. She looked up at him with a smile. After the ordeal of her brother's funeral, Susan Cheever had regained some of her radiance. She was pleased to see him again and he, in turn, was openly delighted.

'Miss Cheever!' he exclaimed.

'Good evening, Mr Redmayne.'

'What are you doing here?'

'Mr Bale kindly brought me to your house.'

'I thought that you were still in Northamptonshire.'

'Lucy invited me to stay with her for a while in Knightrider Street.'

Christopher was thrilled. 'So close?'

'That was how I came into it,' explained Jonathan, noting the fond glances that were being exchanged between the two of them. 'Miss Cheever had a message for you. Knowing that I live nearby in Addle Hill, she called to ask if I would deliver it. Since the message has a bearing on the investigation, I thought it best if Miss Cheever gave it to you in person.'

'Thank you, Mr Bale.'

'Did I make the right decision?'

'Without question,' said Christopher.

Realising that he had ignored Jonathan, he greeted him properly and urged him to stay for refreshment, but the constable had other work to do. He rose to his feet, took his leave of Susan then followed Christopher into the hall, where he lowered his voice to ensure that they were not overheard.

'I assured Miss Cheever that you would see that she got back safely.'

'I shall insist on it.'

'I had a feeling that you might, Mr Redmayne,' he said, face impassive. 'But how did you fare when we parted this afternoon?'

'Very well.'

Eager to get back to his guest, Christopher recounted, in only the briefest outline, details of his respective meetings with Celia Hemmings and Sir Marcus Kemp. The constable's eyebrows lifted at the mention of Arthur Lunn.

'He was not a man I could ever admire,' he said.

'You and he are hardly well matched.'

'Do you wish me to speak to him again?'

'No, Mr Bale,' said Christopher, opening the front door. 'I'll take care of Mr Lunn from now on. In fact, I had planned to track him down this very evening.'

'I felt so out of place in that coffee house.'

'You would feel even more out of place in one of his nocturnal haunts. For that's where I am likely to run Arthur Lunn to ground.' He eased Jonathan into the street. 'Leave him to me. I'll call on you tomorrow and report anything that I find out.'

'Thank you, Mr Redmayne.'

Christopher waved him off before closing the door. He was deeply grateful to his friend. Jonathan had not merely brought Susan to his home. He had tactfully left them alone together, knowing that Christopher would elicit far more from his visitor if he were not sitting between them. The thought of accompanying her back to Knightrider Street was a joy in itself. Christopher went back into the room with anticipatory pleasure.

'What can I offer you, Miss Cheever?' he said.

'Nothing, thank you. Jacob has been looking after us.'

'So he should.' He grinned broadly. 'I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you again. Did Sir Julius travel back to London with you?'

'No, Mr Redmayne. Father remained at home. He prefers to mourn there.'

'I can understand that.'

It was a timely reminder that Susan herself was still in mourning, dressed in sober attire and rather subdued. Christopher saw the impropriety of grinning at her. Making an effort to look more serious, he took the seat opposite her.

'Did you tell Mr Bale what this message was?' he asked.

'Yes,' she replied. 'He is assisting you in the inquiry.'

'It's more a case of my assisting him, Miss Cheever. He is the officer of the law, not me. It was Mr Bale, after all, who helped to find the body on Paul's Wharf.'

'I know. I asked him to show me the spot.'

Christopher frowned. 'You went there?'

'Before we set out for Fetter Lane.'

'It's hardly a fit place for a young lady.'

'Nor for my brother, I would have thought. What was Gabriel doing there?'

'That has still to be ascertained.'

'Mr Bale believes he was killed elsewhere and carried to the wharf.'

'I'm sure that the full truth will emerge in time.'

The pleasure of being with her again was making it difficult for Christopher to concentrate. When he parted from Susan at the funeral, he had resigned himself to a wait of several weeks before he chanced to see her again, and that meeting would certainly be in the presence of Sir Julius Cheever. Yet here she was, unencumbered by her father, talking to him alone under his own roof. He had to force himself to keep to the matter in hand.

'What is this message, Miss Cheever?'

'Lucy and I have spent a lot of time together,' she explained. 'I think that she is slowly learning to trust me.'

'You are one of the most trustworthy people I have ever met.'

'She is still wary of everyone, Mr Redmayne, and still in a state of shock.'

'Has she told you why her marriage had to be kept secret?'

'Not yet. But she may do so in time.'

'I hope so. It will be relevant to our inquiry.'

'What she has done is given me a few hints.'

'Hints?'

'They were not deliberate,' said Susan, 'but they dropped out in conversation.'

'Go on.'

'She knows something important about the time that Gabriel was killed. Lucy was visiting her ailing mother in St Albans. Her maidservant went with her. Gabriel was left in the house on his own. But he was not there when he was attacked.'

'What makes you say that?'

'I think that he was meant to be somewhere that night,' she said. 'Lucy more or less confirmed it. Gabriel was ambushed on his way to or from this place and murdered. His body was carried to the wharf.'

'He was certainly not killed at the house. There would have been signs of the struggle. Besides, someone as cautious as Gabriel would not have let a stranger in.'

'Mr Bale explained that.'

'Oh?'

'He says that the killer must have stolen Gabriel's key.'

'Quite probably,' said Christopher, thinking it through. 'There was no indication of forced entry. When she got back, your sister-in-law had the feeling that someone had been in the house but everything seemed to be in its place. It was only when she carried out a thorough search that the theft of the diary came to light;

'Yes,' said Susan under her breath. 'The diary.'

'What do you propose to do, Miss Cheever?'

'Try to break down Lucy's reserve completely so that she tells me the truth.'

'And if that fails?'

'I was hoping that you might speak to her, Mr Redmayne.'

'Gladly. If you think she is up to it.'

'She is,' Susan assured him. 'Lucy has an inner strength.'

'Tell me when to come and I'll be there immediately.'

'Let me try first of all.'

'I will,' agreed Christopher. 'You are in a much better position to win her over. When the rest of your family rejected Gabriel, you stood by him. Lucy knows that. You are probably the only person with whom she can discuss her husband.'

'We've been doing nothing else for the past few days.'

'It must be very lowering for you.'

'Not really, Mr Redmayne. It's been something of a revelation.'

'In what way?'

Susan did not reply. She looked deep into his eyes. He met her gaze, his affection for her shining through, but it sparked off no response. She was looking at him with a curiosity that was tempered with faint disappointment. Christopher felt uncomfortable.

'Is something wrong, Miss Cheever?' he asked.

She appraised him carefully. 'May I ask you a question, please?'

'As many as you wish.'

'Do you know a Henry Redmayne?'

'I should do. He's my brother.'

'And was he one of Gabriel's friends?'

'For a time.'

'Why did you not mention it before, Mr Redmayne?'

Christopher shrugged. 'It did not come up in conversation.'

'Well, it should have,' she said with a note of reproof. 'I had a right to know. It would have saved me some embarrassment when Lucy mentioned his name.'

'Lucy?'

'Yes.'

'But she has never met Henry.'

'It seems that your brother's name appears in Gabriel's diary?'

'So I hear.'

'Yet you did not have the courtesy to pass on the information to me?'

'Miss Cheever-'

'Let me finish,' she went on, anger beginning to show. 'How can you expect me to confide in you when you hold back something as important as this from me? You put me in a very awkward position. Imagine how foolish I felt when Lucy recalled the name of Henry Redmayne and wondered if the two of you were related. Not only that,' she emphasised. 'Your brother's name appears in the very diary that led to Gabriel's murder so he is involved here. You've been deceiving me, Mr Redmayne.'

'Not intentionally.'

'I feel hurt.'

Christopher was contrite. 'I would never willingly hurt you.'

'Then why have you been hiding your brother?'

'For two very good reasons,' he explained. 'The first concerns Sir Julius.'

'Father?'

'He has many virtues but tolerance is not one of them. And what my brother requires most of all from others, I fear, is a tolerant attitude. Henry leads the kind of existence that Gabriel managed to escape.' He sat forward. 'Can you understand what I am saying, Miss Cheever?'

'I think so. You are telling me how keen you were to design the new house.'

'Would Sir Julius be equally keen to retain me if he knew that I had a brother like Henry? He would assume that I, too, was the kind of rakehell that he so despises.'

'Father would not make that mistake. He's a good judge of character.'

'I wanted to be judged for my work and not in terms of my brother.'

'That is still not reason enough to lie to me.'

'I did not lie,' he stressed. 'I simply held back a portion of the truth.'

'You said that there were two reasons.'

'Yes,' said Christopher sadly. 'The second concerns you.'

'Me?'

'In my own blundering way, I sought to protect you.'

'From what?'

'The full horror. Gabriel's murder has been a shattering blow for you, Miss Cheever. I did not want to distress you any further by telling you about its ugly consequences. If you feel that I hid things from you unfairly,' he said, leaning even closer to her, 'then I apologise unreservedly. I promise to tell you all that you wish to hear.'

'Why should I be distressed by it?'

'The details are rather sordid.'

'Nevertheless, I will hear it,' she said. 'Do not think to spare me.'

Christopher took a deep breath. 'If you insist.'

He gave her a clear and comprehensive account of events from the very start, hiding nothing from her and describing in detail the failure of his plan to catch the blackmailer in Covent Garden. Susan Cheever listened to it all without a tremor. The name that caught her attention was that of a woman.

'Miss Celia Hemmings?'

'Yes,' he said. 'Did Gabriel ever mention her in his letters?'

'No, Mr Redmayne.'

'He obviously made a deep impression on her. She was at the funeral.'

'Was she?' asked Susan with mingled surprise and disapproval.

'She left discreetly soon afterwards.'

'I'm glad to hear it.'

'Do not be too harsh on her. She was a good friend to Gabriel.'

'That may be so, Mr Redmayne, but she had no place at a family funeral. Think what pain it would have caused Lucy if she had known of the woman's presence and of her relationship to Gabriel. It was wrong of Miss Hemmings to come.' Susan cocked her head slightly and stared at him. 'Are you ashamed of your brother?'

'Ashamed? No, Miss Cheever.'

'Why not?'

'With all his faults, I love Henry.'

'I loved Gabriel - with all his faults.'

'It's not a fair comparison.'

'Why not?'

'Your brother repented,' he argued. 'He turned his back on his days as a rake and tried to lead an honest, sober, blameless life as a married man. That takes courage. Henry's case is very different,' he conceded. 'In spite of all that has happened, he has no thought of repentance and he would no more contemplate marriage than emigration to some uninhabited wilderness in America.'

'Gabriel and your brother were still two of a kind.'

'Up to a point.'

'And so are we, Mr Redmayne.'

'We?'

'Yes,' she said resignedly. 'Each of us found ourselves with wayward brothers. There's no escaping that fact. Neither of them would aspire to canonisation.'

Christopher laughed. 'Henry would feel insulted if it were offered to him.'

'Our brothers drew us into this.'

'Granted.'

'But for them, we would not be sitting here now. In view of that, it is surprising that you chose not to confide in me.'

'Nothing will be hidden from you in future, I swear it.'

'I'll keep you to that,' she warned. 'Gabriel Cheever and Henry Redmayne are both weak men who went astray. We supported them. That gives us a real bond.'

Christopher felt the full strength of that bond and gave a quiet smile.

Sir Marcus Kemp was in his element. Having paid the blackmail demand, he felt that his life could begin again in earnest. He repaired to his favourite gaming house that evening and had a run of good fortune at the card table. He decided that it was an omen. His troubles were completely over. Henry Redmayne watched him from a distance, envying the confidence that his friend exuded and wishing that he had the same air of freedom. Gone was the hunted expression and the feverish manner. Kemp was determined to make up for lost time. Arthur Lunn was also happy. Henry had played a few games of ombre but he had still not mastered the intricacies of the new fad and lost each time. Lunn, by contrast, was slowly amassing a sizeable amount of money from his opponents at the table. Henry wondered if he would be able to drag his friend away.

When Kemp's luck finally changed, he had the sense to quit the game. Seeing Henry in the far corner, he strode across to him with a benign smile on his face.

'Welcome back, Henry!' he said expansively

'I might say the same to-,you, Marcus.'

'All's well that ends well!'

'Unfortunately, it has not ended in my case.'

'Then do as I did,' urged Kemp. 'Grit your teeth and pay up. You'll not regret it. Yes,' he added genially, 'and employ that brother of yours to hand the money over. What he is like as an architect I do not know, but Christopher is a sterling fellow.'

'It's a quality that runs in the family.'

'He pulled me out of the pit of despair, Henry.'

'I wish that he could do the same for me.'

'Did your brother not tell you how he delivered the money to Covent Garden?'

'Yes, Marcus,' said Henry. 'When he left you this afternoon, Christopher called on me in Bedford Street but he was not as sanguine as you are about the future. He feels that the extortion is not yet over.'

'It is in my case.'

'That's little comfort to me - or to Peter Wickens.'

'Wickens? How does he come into this?'

'He received a blackmail demand this very day.'

'Never!'

'I saw it with my own eyes, Marcus. Penned by the same hand that wrote one of my letters and both of yours. Peter was utterly desolate,' he said. 'All of his indiscretions were neatly listed. The threat of publication all but deranged him.'

'How much was the demand?'

'Five hundred guineas.'

'Advise him to pay at once or it will be doubled.' He looked around. 'I'll tell him myself. Is Wickens here this evening?'

'No, Marcus. He is skulking at home just as we did.'

'I've no need to do that any more.'

Henry writhed in discomfort. 'Do not rub salt into my wounds.'

'Be not so full of apprehension,' urged the other. 'Bow to the inevitable and pay for your pleasures. Your suffering will then cease. If you need to borrow the money, I'll gladly offer you a loan. Ah!' he said as a figure approached them. 'Chance contrives better than we ourselves. Here is the very man you will need as your intermediary.'

Henry was astonished to see his brother there. Christopher was not interested in trying his luck at the card table and he had resisted all his brother's efforts to lure him to various brothels. Henry sensed that Christopher must have a particular reason for venturing into the gaming house. As soon as the social niceties were over, he wanted to know what it was.

'What brings you here, Christopher?'

'I was looking for you, Henry.'

'He knew where to find you,' remarked Kemp with a chuckle. 'Find a card game and you will soon find Henry Redmayne. Excuse me,' he said about to move off.

'Before you go, Sir Marcus,' said Christopher, blocking his path, 'I wanted to remind you of the bargain we struck.'

'That's null and void.'

'Not if you receive another blackmail demand.'

'But I will not. I'm in the clear.'

'Wait a while before you celebrate,' advised Christopher. 'All I ask is that you do not destroy the letters or the printed extract. I may need to look at them.'

'Only if I am harried again and that will not happen.'

'Promise me that you will not burn the evidence.'

'I'll do what I please with it, Mr Redmayne,' said Kemp airily.

He went off to speak to some other friends. Henry looked after him.

'Sir Marcus assumes that the problem has been solved,' he commented.

'That's a foolish assumption.' Christopher glanced around. 'Is there somewhere we can talk in private, Henry? I need a word with you.'

Henry nodded and led him to an empty table. Drinks were served, and Henry lit a pipe. Christopher sat back to avoid the smoke, consoling himself with the fact that his brother was unusually sober. At that time on a normal evening, Henry would be incapable of articulate conversation.

'I'm glad that you came, Christopher,' he said. 'I have news.'

'Of what?'

'Another demand.'

'You've had a third letter?' asked Christopher.

'No. Another victim has been singled out.'

'Who is it?'

'Peter Wickens.'

Henry told him about the unexpected visit from Wickens and described the calligraphy and the wording of the letter. Christopher was relieved to hear that his brother had urged his friend not to pay the demand.

'I knew that there would be more victims,' he said.

'He has dozens to choose from,' Henry remarked. 'Peter Wickens has had his wilder moments but there are plenty whose antics are far more outrageous than his. Will they be targets as well, do you think?'

'Most probably. If they appear in Gabriel Cheever's diary.'

'Who will be next?'

'Nobody - if we find the blackmailer.'

'How do we do that?' asked Henry gloomily.

'We are closer than you imagine,' said Christopher earnestly. 'I still believe that he is one of your own circle. He may even be here this evening. That is what brought me here tonight, Henry. I wish to speak to Arthur Lunn.'

'Arthur? You surely do not suspect him?'

'Everyone must be considered.'

'But he's a good friend to me and Sir Marcus.'

'Let me probe the strength of that friendship,' suggested Christopher. 'When time serves, invite him over and leave us to talk alone. Do not tell him why I am here. There is no point in putting him on the defensive at the start.'

Henry shook his head. 'Arthur Lunn? No, I'll not accept it.'

It was a long wait. Lunn was enjoying himself too much to be drawn away from the table. When he eventually did rise from his seat, Henry moved in swiftly to guide him across to Christopher. Lunn raised a cynical eyebrow.

'This is hardly your world, Mr Redmayne,' he observed drily. 'Have you come to gape in disgust at us hardened libertines?'

'No, Mr Lunn. I merely craved a word with you.'

'Speak up, then.'

'Gabriel Cheever once lodged with you, I gather.'

'All the world knows that.'

'Had he started to write at that time?'

'Why, yes,' said Lunn, adjusting his periwig. 'He scribbled away whenever he could. I thought that he was writing letters to his sister but he had literary ambitions.'

'Did he show you any of his work?'

'Bless you, no! Why should he?'

'You were close friends.'

'We drank, played cards and whored together, perhaps.'

'There was more to it than that, Mr Lunn. He lived under your roof.'

'Only until he made enough money to afford lodgings of his own.' Lunn gave a sudden chortle. 'As it happens, most of that money came from me at the card table. Even when he moved out, I was still helping to pay for his accommodation.'

'Did you resent that?' asked Christopher.

'A little, perhaps.'

'Was there anything else you resented about Gabriel?'

'Of course not,' replied the other. 'Why should there be?'

'He did vanish without trace,' Christopher reminded him.

Lunn was rueful. 'That's true. And I admit I was a trifle irritated by that.'

'I suggest that it was rather more than irritation, Mr Lunn.'

'What do you mean?'

'It must have been galling to be abandoned like that,' said Christopher.

'I was not abandoned!' retorted Lunn.

'Then why did Gabriel give no warning of his departure?'

'Who knows?'

'You must have felt badly let down.'

'That's my business,' snapped Lunn, temper starting to show.

'Why did you go to the funeral?' prodded Christopher.

'Celia Hemmings told you that. I was there to act as her escort.'

'I think you may have had a more personal reason, Mr Lunn.'

Lunn flared up. 'It was not for the pleasure of meeting you, Mr Redmayne.'

'Was it remorse that took you to Northamptonshire?' said Christopher. 'Or were you simply there to gloat over the dead body of a friend who deserted you?'

'I was gloating over nobody.'

'Are you pretending that you actually cared for Gabriel?'

'What is it to you?'

'I am curious, Mr Lunn. As you so rightly pointed out,' he said, waving a hand to include the whole room, 'this is not my world. But it is yours. A man who likes pleasure as much as you do would need a very strong motive to brave the highways of England for two whole days in order to spend a mere half an hour at a funeral.'

'Why are you pestering me like this?' demanded Lunn.

Christopher was calm. 'I am putting some simple questions to you, that is all.'

'Do not expect any answers from me, sir.'

'Why not? Do you have something to hide?'

'No,' snarled Lunn, jumping to his feet. 'Now leave me be.'

'If you tell me one last thing.'

'I'm rapidly losing my patience with you, Mr Redmayne.'

Christopher stood up. 'How much of Gabriel Cheever's diary did you read?'

Arthur Lunn turned purple and started to bluster. Mastering the urge to lash out at Christopher, he instead turned on his heel and stalked away. Henry sidled over to his brother with a look of alarm on his face.

'You upset him,' he said.

'I know, Henry. That was the intention.'

Lucy Cheever sat motionless in the chair. Her eyes were open but she was quite unaware of the fact that her sister-in-law sat directly opposite her. Susan waited patiently. It was not the first time that Lucy had been in the grip of her memories. A smile occasionally brushed her lips but sadness prevailed. When she finally shook herself awake, she was overcome with guilt at ignoring her guest.

'I am so sorry,' she said, reaching out to touch Susan. 'Do forgive me.'

'There is nothing to forgive.'

'I was daydreaming.'

'It's too late for daydreams, Lucy,' said Susan. 'Night is starting to fall.'

'Heavens! Have I been that long? You should have given me a nudge.'

'Why? You were exactly where you wanted to be.'

'I invited you here so that we could get to know each other better,' said Lucy apologetically. 'And all I do is forget all about you.'

'You need some time alone with your memories.'

'I had that while you went to visit Mr Redmayne.' Interest brought a proper smile to her face. 'Was he pleased to see you, Susan?'

'Very pleased.'

'I thought he would be.'

'Mr Bale is the person to thank. He took me all the way.'

'And who brought you back?'

'Mr Redmayne himself. He insisted that I sit on his horse while he led it along.'

'I told you that he was a gentleman.'

'Every inch,' agreed Susan.

'What did you want to ask him?'

'Oh, there were a number of things, Lucy.'

'Did you find out if he knew a Henry Redmayne?'

'It's his brother, it seems. He leads a somewhat dissolute life, which is how he got into Gabriel's diary. Christopher and Henry Redmayne may be related,' she said, 'but they are different in every way. Like me and Brilliana.'

'Nobody would take you for sisters.'

'There are times when Brilliana denies the connection.'

Lucy gave a little laugh. 'I'm glad I did not invite her to stay.'

'She would have made quite an impact on this house, believe me.'

'Brilliana likes to be in charge.'

'Yes, Lucy. Given that urge, I believe that she married the right man.'

'And what about you?'

'Me?'

'When will you find the right man?'

'Oh,' said Susan, tossing her head. 'I doubt if I shall ever marry. Father has pushed many suitors in my direction but none of them has been remotely appealing.'

'Perhaps you should look further afield.'

'Young ladies are not supposed to look, Lucy. We take what is offered.'

'Or remain single.'

'Quite,' replied Susan. 'It is an attractive option in many ways.' She sat back and regarded Lucy with curiosity. 'You still have not told me how you met Gabriel. All that you would say was that it was a chance encounter.'

'It was, Susan. In a churchyard.'

'A churchyard? Why there?'

Lucy became nostalgic. 'I happened to be taking a short cut through it when I saw this handsome young man bending down in front of one of the gravestones. At first, I thought he was paying respects to a family member, then I realised what he was doing.'

'And what was that?'

'Copying the inscription,' said Lucy. 'Reading the words that had been carved into the stone. I was so surprised that I stopped to watch him. We began to talk. Gabriel was searching for interesting epitaphs,' she went on, the memory bringing some light into her eyes. 'That was his first commission as a poet, you see. To write epitaphs.' She gave another little laugh. 'Imagine that, Susan. You know the kind of wicked life he was leading yet they paid him to write epitaphs. Gabriel told me that he had not been near a church for months until he got the commission. We talked for ages.'

'What happened?'

'I made sure that I took that short cut whenever I could.' Tears threatened and she bit her lip. 'I met him in one churchyard and bade him farewell in another.' Susan moved over to put an arm round her. 'He always wanted to write his own epitaph, you know.'

'In a sense, he did,' said Susan. 'With that diary of his.'

Lucy turned to her. 'Do they know who killed him, Susan?'

'No, but they are getting closer to him all the time.'

'What did Mr Redmayne say?'

'That he is making steady progress. However,' Susan continued, 'he is still collecting evidence. What he really needs to know is where Gabriel was likely to have been on the night he was killed. Do you have any idea, Lucy?'

'He should have been here.'

'He was somewhere else. Mr Redmayne is certain of it. Where was it?' Lucy shook her head. 'You must do all you can to help. Where did Gabriel go?'

'How would I know?' said Lucy, breaking away to get up. 'He might have gone out for a walk. He worked all day but he was not chained to the house.'

'If you do remember-'

'How can I?'

'If you do,' repeated Susan, 'please tell Mr Redmayne. It could be important.'

Lucy gazed ahead of her. 'Nothing is important any more,' she murmured. 'Not since Gabriel died.' She seemed on the point of drifting off again but she checked herself and turned to Susan. 'What will happen if this case is solved?'

'Gabriel can rest easy in his grave at last.'

'I was thinking about you.'

'All that matters to me is to catch Gabriel's killer.'

'Will you go back to Northamptonshire?'

'Probably.'

'That would make it very difficult for you.'

'Difficult?'

'When I wanted to see Gabriel, I had my short cut through the churchyard.' She put a hand on Susan's shoulder. 'You can hardly find an excuse to visit Fetter Lane if you go back to live with your father. How will you manage?'

Susan was perplexed. It was a question she had already been asking herself.

Henry Redmayne was grateful that his brother had sought him out. The cards were again falling so favourably for Arthur Lunn that it might be hours before he could be prised away from the table. The promise to give Henry a lift back to Bedford Street in his coach was forgotten. Christopher came to his brother's rescue, offering to act as his bodyguard and take him home.

'There is one condition, Henry,' he warned.

'What is that?'

'We first call on Peter Wickens.'

'This late?' said Henry peevishly. 'Why not leave it until the morning?'

'He may have made the wrong decision by then. I want to speak to Mr Wickens before he gives in to the blackmail demand. Come on,' said Christopher. 'I know that he lives quite close to you. It is not much out of our way.'

'Peter may not even let us into the house.'

'He will if he has any sense. Meanwhile, tell me more about Arthur Lunn.'

'Arthur?'

'I want to hear just how close he was to Gabriel Cheever.'

The walk through the dark streets gave Henry plenty of time to reminisce. He talked at length about Lunn, insisting that it would be quite out of character for him to be involved in a murder and in the subsequent blackmail demands.

'If he was threatening to kill me, why take me out in his coach this evening?'

'Mr Lunn could be playing a deep game.'

'He's far too shallow for that,' said Henry dismissively. 'The only games that Arthur will ever play are at the card table or in a lady's bedchamber.'

'Is he rich?'

'Tolerably.'

'Then he is not in need of money?'

'Arthur is always in need of money, Christopher.'

'When we left, he seemed to be doing extremely well.'

'You caught him on a good night. He is not usually so fortunate. He never loses as heavily as Sir Marcus Kemp but I've known him take some severe falls.'

'He would not sneeze at a thousand guineas, then?'

'Offer him that and he would snatch your hand off.'

Christopher was rueful. 'That is effectively what happened.'

The house was in St Martin's Lane and Henry was astonished how quickly they seemed to get there. He was also pleased that he had not once felt uneasy during the journey. Christopher's presence was reassuring. Henry would never have dared to walk home on his own. Fear of attack still haunted him.

'What sort of man is Peter Wickens?' asked Christopher.

'I thought you had met him.'

'Only once or twice. He seemed like the rest of your friends, Henry.'

'Noble and upstanding?'

'Disreputable.'

Henry laughed. 'Peter is as disreputable as the rest of us,' he confessed, 'but that does not mean he has no care of his reputation. He guards it jealously. It is one thing to revel in private, quite another to have your revelry displayed for one and all to see.'

'Is he a weak man?'

'On the contrary.'

'Then he might hold out against the blackmail demands.'

'You will have to ask him about that, Christopher. All I can say is that Peter Wickens is a good friend a lively companion and a generous host. If he has a fault, it is that he has a serious side to his character.'

'What do you mean?'

'Peter actually goes to the playhouse in order to enjoy the play.'

With a scornful laugh, Henry reached out to ring the doorbell. They were in luck. Wickens was still up and received them at once. Puzzled by their arrival, he ushered them into a small room off the hall. The three of them took seats round the flickering candles in the silver candelabrum.

'To what do I owe this visit, Henry?' asked Wickens.

'I told Christopher about your little problem.'

'Then you had no business to do so,' said the other hotly. 'It's a private matter.'

'Not when it has a bearing on Gabriel Cheever's murder,' said Christopher. 'If we can solve that, you will have to pay no blackmail demand.'

Wickens was sceptical. 'Have you taken it upon yourself to solve the crime?'

'I became involved through my brother, Mr Wickens.'

'Christopher has helped me through the ordeal,' agreed Henry.

'What use is that to me?' said Wickens.

Christopher calmed him down and explained his role in the murder investigation. Wickens slowly shed his reservations. Instead of being annoyed at Christopher's intrusion into his affairs, he began to be interested in what he was hearing. The questions he put were intelligent and searching. Christopher felt that he was winning the man over. Wickens was not like the other blackmail victims he had met. Henry had been gripped by hysteria while Sir Marcus Kemp had ranted and raved. Wickens was much more in control of his anxiety. It was possible to have a sensible dialogue with him.

'When did the letter arrive?' asked Christopher.

'Late this morning.'

'What did you think when you read it?'

'Rational thought was impossible at first,' said Wickens. 'The truth is that I was in turmoil. I do not pretend to be celibate but the notion of having my indiscretions made public was terrifying. My first instinct was to pay the money at once.'

'I am glad you fought against the impulse.'

'I needed advice. Your brother was the obvious person to turn to for counsel.'

Henry smirked. 'I do have flashes of sagacity from time to time.'

'It was only then that I discovered that Henry himself was a victim. It explained why we had seen so little of him recently. Why on earth did you not turn to me, Henry?' he wondered. 'You could have relied on my help.'

'Henry chose me instead, Mr Wickens,' said Christopher. 'Having been a victim yourself, you'll understand the urge to tell as few people as possible.'

'Oh, yes!'

'So what do you intend to do?'

'Sleep on the matter and decide in the morning.'

'Which way do you incline at the moment?'

'Towards complying with the demand.'

'That would be a mistake, Mr Wickens.'

'What else can I do?'

'Ignore the letter.'

'And see myself ridiculed in print?' said Wickens sharply. 'It is not an enticing prospect, sir. Gabriel Cheever is taking revenge on us from beyond the grave. Had I known that he was keeping this scurrilous diary about his closest friends, I would have made him destroy it.'

'I doubt that, Peter,' said Henry. 'He was not the kind of man to take orders.'

'Besides,' added Christopher, 'the diary was not intended for publication.'

Wickens was adamant. 'It must never see the light of day.'

'Then help me to prevent that happening, Mr Wickens.'

'How?'

'First of all, I would like to see the letter you received.'

Wickens was about to protest. 'I do not intend to read it,' promised Christopher. 'A cursory glance will be more than enough.'

'Do as says,' urged Henry.

Wickens hesitated. 'I do not feel that it is necessary.'

'My brother believes it came from the same person who sent one of the letters to him,' explained Christopher. 'I merely wish to confirm that. Nothing more.'

With considerable reluctance, Wickens took the missive from his pocket. The visitors waited while their host wrestled with the problem. At length, he thrust the letter into Christopher's hand with a stern warning.

'Do not read it through, Mr Redmayne.'

'There is no need.' Christopher looked down at the neat handwriting, then he raised the paper to sniff it. He gave it back to Wickens. 'Thank you.'

'Henry tells me that Sir Marcus has also been a target,' said Wickens, pocketing the letter. 'That must have scared the wits out of him. He has a wife to worry about.'

'Not any more,' Henry told him. 'Sir Marcus paid up.'

'Who can blame him?'

'I do, Mr Wickens,' said Christopher. 'It was folly.'

'Yet you went along with it, Christopher,' his brother reminded him.

'Only because I hoped to set a trap.' He turned to Wickens. 'Since he was determined to hand the money over,' he explained, 'I offered to act as his intermediary and had a man concealed in the crowd to watch. We hoped to catch the blackmailer but he was too cunning for us.'

'He seems to hold all the cards,' sighed Wickens.

'Not all of them. We have one or two of our own.'

'You know who he is, then?'

'We will do in time.'

'What happens to us meanwhile?' asked Henry.

'You sit tight and do nothing.'

'But I have a death threat hanging over me.'

'Have you seen the slightest sign of danger?' said Christopher.

'No, of course not. It was simply a device to lever the money out of you.'

'I take the threat more seriously.'

Wickens was concerned. 'So would I in your place, Henry. Take care, my friend.'

'I'm glad that someone has sympathy for me.'

'Henry,' said his brother, bridling at the criticism, 'we have just walked along dark streets that afforded endless possibilities of ambush. Were you attacked? Were you menaced in any way?'

'No, I was not.'

'How many days has it been since that death threat arrived?'

'Several, Christopher.'

'I rest my case.'

'You are too glib, Mr Redmayne,' said Wickens. 'According to your brother, Gabriel was murdered so that someone could get his hands on that diary. We are not just dealing with a blackmailer here. If he has killed once, he may kill again.'

'Or get an irate husband to do it for him,' moaned Henry.

'You know my position, Mr Wickens,' said Christopher. 'The decision is yours.'

'I'll not make it until the morning.'

'Will you let Henry know what you do?'

'If you wish.'

'I do, sir.'

'So do I, Peter,' said Henry. 'It will help me to make up my own mind. The suspense is ruining my health. Sleep has become a complete stranger to me.'

'You will soon be able to sleep as long as you want,' said Christopher.

'In my coffin?' Henry gave a mirthless laugh and brought the conversation to an end. When the visitors took their leave, Wickens seemed to be in two minds. Christopher hoped that his own advice would be followed but he feared that it would not be. Henry, too, was on the verge of paying the demand. He would not hold out much longer.

Walking side by side, they headed for The Strand. Henry was more nervous.

'I wish that I had not remembered that death threat,' he complained.

'The fact that you were able to forget it so easily shows its true worth.'

'Let's walk faster.'

'Why? The streets are empty at this time of night.'

'I feel suddenly afraid.'

'When you have me beside you?' said Christopher, patting him on the back. 'We are both armed. There was a time when you were quite skilled with a sword.'

'I still am.'

'Then walk as if you know it, Henry. Show some confidence. Exhibit fear and you invite assault. Put out your chest,' he encouraged 'and strut along as if you own the city. That is your usual gait.'

Trying to obey the advice, Henry almost tripped himself up before he reverted to the mincing step he had used since they left Wickens's house. On the journey back to Bedford Street, he was harassed and furtive. Only when they reached his front door did he allow himself to relax.

'Thank you, Christopher,' he said. 'Will you come in?'

'No. Jacob will be waiting for me.'

'High time you had a young woman waiting for you, not a decrepit old servant.'

'Jacob is not decrepit.'

'A woman would give you a sweeter welcome.'

'I'll have to take your word for that, Henry.'

After an exchange of farewells, Christopher set off in the direction of Fetter Lane. The encounters with Arthur Lunn, Sir Marcus Kemp and Peter Wickens had each been instructive but his mind rejected all three of them in favour of Susan Cheever. It was she who would defeat time most pleasantly during his walk. Christopher was glad that she had confronted him about the way he had kept certain things from her. It showed spirit on her part and exposed his mistaken assumption about her. Susan was no weak vessel who had to be shielded from disturbing news. Christopher was sorry that his behaviour had upset her and resolved to be more open with her in the future. He felt that their conversation at his house had strengthened the bond between them. Susan Cheever occupied his thoughts in the most delightful way.

It was not until he reached Fetter Lane that he realised he was being followed.