The Repentant Rake

Chapter Fourteen

Jonathan Bale guessed at once who the visitor might be. When he opened his front door, he was suddenly facing the commanding figure of Sir Julius Cheever, stern, watchful and full of purpose. Though Jonathan had only seen Gabriel Cheever's face on a slab at the mortuary, he discerned a clear resemblance between father and son.

'Mr Bale?' asked Sir Julius.

'Yes, sir.'

'My name is Sir Julius Cheever.'

'I know that,' said Jonathan respectfully.

'Then you will understand why I want to shake your hand' said Sir Julius, offering a firm grip and pumping his arm. 'We owe you a great debt, Mr Bale.'

'It was not all my doing, Sir Julius.'

'Come now.' He released his hand. 'Let us have no false modesty here. Mr Redmayne has told us how you were instrumental in the arrest of the villain and you have been a model of fortitude throughout the investigation.'

'Tom Warburton must take some credit,' said Jonathan.

'So I am told.'

'He's my fellow constable.'

'With a rather special dog, I gather.'

Jonathan gave a smile. 'Sam is worth his weight in gold.'

He was astounded to see Sir Julius on his doorstep. Christopher Redmayne had told him of the old man's return to London but Jonathan had never expected to meet him properly, let alone be sought out for congratulation. Simultaneously embarrassed and flattered that Sir Julius had walked the short distance from Knightrider Street to the house in Addle Hill to meet him, he was lost for words. Sir Julius was studying him carefully.

'You did well, Mr Bale.'

'Thank you, Sir Julius.'

'I'm a generous man. You'll be rewarded.'

'Arresting the killer was the only reward I wanted' said Jonathan quickly. 'I never accept money. All I did was my duty as a constable. I helped to wipe an ugly stain off the face of my ward and that gives me great satisfaction.'

'So it should.'

'There are accomplices still to be tracked down.'

'You caught the villain who murdered my son,' said Sir Julius seriously, 'and that is the main thing. Mr Redmayne tells me that he is proving stubborn.'

'At the moment.'

'Let me have access to him.'

'That will not be possible, Sir Julius.'

'But I am Gabriel's father.'

'It might distress you too much to meet the man,' said Jonathan. 'He has a vile tongue and is quite unrepentant about his crime.'

'I'll make the devil repent soon enough!'

'No, Sir Julius.'

'Give me five minutes alone with him, that's all I ask.'

'It would not be up to me to sanction that.'

'Then take me to someone who can.'

'I'm sorry, Sir Julius,' said Jonathan. 'There are strict rules. Access to prisoners is controlled, especially when they are dangerous felons like this man.'

'He'll find out what danger means if I get my hands on him!' vowed Sir Julius.

'Leave him to us.'

'But you have got nothing out of him so far.'

'We will, Sir Julius. In time.'

The old man was frustrated. 'Is there no way that I can get to see the prisoner?'

'None, I fear.'

'Even if I make it worth the sergeant's while?'

'He is not supposed to accept any bribes.'

'Prisons are run on bribery, man,' said Sir Julius irritably, 'we all know that. The more the wretches can pay, the better their accommodation in those foul places. Introduce me to the prison sergeant. I'll soon buy my way into the cell with that killer.'

Jonathan stood firm. 'It will not be allowed, Sir Julius. I understand your anger at the man but justice must be allowed to take its course. We'll get the truth out of him soon.'

Sir Julius gave up. Having failed to persuade Christopher to take him along to the prison, he had thought that he would have more chance with a humble constable, but he was mistaken. Jonathan was even more resistant to his offer. Sir Julius heaved a sigh then looked over his shoulder.

'They have packed me off, Mr Bale.'

'Packed you off?'

'In the politest way,' said Sir Julius with a fond smile. 'My daughter, Susan, wanted me out of the house so that she could talk alone with Mr Redmayne. There is a possibility, it seems, that he may be able to win the confidence of my daughter-in-law, who could have useful information that is being held back.'

'So Mr Redmayne told me.'

Sir Julius brightened. 'What he told me is that you fought at Worcester.'

'Yes,' said Jonathan quietly, 'but I was very young at the time.'

'War seasons a man. What are your memories of the battle?'

'I try to put them out of my mind, Sir Julius.'

'Why?'

'Those days are long gone.'

'Yet you keep them alive, in the names of your sons, I gather.'

Jonathan was unsettled. 'Mr Redmayne had no call to mention that fact.'

'He had every call. I wanted to know as much about you as possible. You have done my family an immense favour. You caught my son's killer.'

'With help from others.'

'Yes, yes, of course. I accept that. But it troubles me that you turn your back on a time when you bore arms in a noble cause.'

'It may be more sensible to forget it, Sir Julius.'

'Nonsense, Mr Bale!' said the other. 'You should treasure those memories, especially now when we are afflicted with this prancing lecher of a King and his corrupt court. Remember a time when virtue was triumphant and the nation was cleansed. Well,' he said briskly. 'Will you not invite me in?'

'Into my house?' said Jonathan, rather flustered.

'Do you have any objection?'

'No, no, Sir Julius.'

'Then stand aside, man. I do not wish to converse on the doorstep like an old woman passing on gossip. Let's sit down together,' he said stepping into the house as Jonathan made way for him. 'We have much to discuss.'

Alone with her at last, Christopher Redmayne was able to look at her properly for the first time since he had returned to the house in Knightrider Street. Susan Cheever had changed. The news that her brother's killer had been apprehended had brought the most enormous joy and relief. It showed in her face, her movements and her manner. She and Christopher were sitting in the parlour while Lucy was in her bedchamber. Though they were talking about a serious matter, their eyes carried on a more light-hearted dialogue.

'I do admire how you did it, Miss Cheever,' he said.

'Did what?'

'Eased your father out of the house. You managed Sir Julius superbly.' •

'Father was in the way.'

'He realised that eventually.'

'Only after I had dropped enough hints, Mr Redmayne. This is the perfect time to draw Lucy out. She is thrilled that Gabriel's killer has been caught, and overcome with gratitude. If the two of you can be left alone for a little while,' she said softly, 'I'm sure that you could find out what you need to know.'

'I hope so. The man himself will tell us nothing. He is positively defiant. We need every bit of help we can get to track down his accomplices.'

'Lucy may provide some of that help.'

'In what way?' he asked. 'Has she given you any inkling at all?'

'Not really. She grows fearful when I touch on the subject. For some reason, she will not confide in me. You may have more luck.'

'I will certainly try.' He glanced upward. 'How long will she be?'

'Not long.'

'Did she retire in order to sleep?'

'No, Mr Redmayne,' said Susan. 'Lucy wanted to be alone with her thoughts. That is only natural. But she was also keen to give us some time together.'

Christopher grinned. 'That was very obliging of her.'

'She knew that we would have a lot to talk about.'

'We certainly do.' The intensity in his voice made her smile. 'It is a great pity that you may have to return to Northamptonshire.'

'I am very reluctant to do so,' she admitted.

'You could be so helpful to me here.'

'Helpful?'

'Yes, Miss Cheever,' he explained. 'Once the accomplices have been caught, my work is over and I can turn to the project that brought us together in the first place. Sir Julius will want to keep me under scrutiny while his new house is being built. He will watch over my shoulder and that could be uncomfortable. I lack your skill in handling him,' he finished. 'Your presence would be invaluable.'

'Is that all I am?' she teased. 'Someone who knows how to control Father?'

'Oh, no, you are much more than that to me!'

The ardour of his declaration surprised both of them and they were at first perplexed. Christopher reminded himself that Susan was still in mourning and any display of emotion on his part was untimely. On her side, Susan was very pleased but equally confused basking in the warmth of his affection but wondering whether or not she should encourage it at such an unpropitious time. Uncertain how to proceed, they abandoned the conversation by tacit consent and simply gazed at each other in silence. Their pleasure was foreshortened. The sound of footsteps on the stairs told them that Lucy was coming. Their expressions became more solemn.

'Oh!' said Lucy, entering the room. 'Am I interrupting something?'

'Not at all,' said Christopher, getting up to welcome her. 'You could never interrupt anyone in your own house, Mrs Cheever. We are the guests, not you.'

Lucy sat down and indicated that he should follow suit. Susan's hopes were raised. Her sister-in-law was calm and poised. After a period of reflection, she might have decided to speak more openly about certain matters. The important thing was to leave her alone with Christopher. Susan bided her time.

'I cannot thank you enough, Mr Redmayne,' said Lucy.

'Wait until the whole business is over before you thank anyone,' said Christopher. 'We caught the most vicious of them but others are still at large, including the man who set up the murder. I want to find out why your husband was killed.'

'So do I.'

'And where,' he stressed.

'Yes,' she murmured tossing a glance at Susan.

'Do you have any idea, Mrs Cheever?'

Lucy lowered her head and gazed at the floor. There was a long pause. Susan took the opportunity to make an excuse and withdraw to the next room, closing the door firmly behind her. Christopher knew that he might never again get such a good chance of winning Lucy's confidence. He tried to be as gentle as he could.

'Mrs Cheever,' he began, 'I think I know why you are holding back.'

'Do you?' she said, looking up at him with alarm.

'Let me say at once that I respect your rights of conscience.'

'Not everyone takes that view, alas.'

'I do,' he assured her. 'I admire anybody who is true to her beliefs.'

'Even if those beliefs are forbidden?'

'Especially then.'

Lucy was uneasy. 'When did you guess, Mr Redmayne?'

'When Mr Bale spoke to one of your neighbours. She told him how devout you and your husband were. I remembered seeing the crucifix on the wall.'

'There is no harm in that,' she said defensively.

'As far as I am concerned, there is no harm in anything you do, Mrs Cheever. Though I do appreciate your desire to keep it from the rest of the family. Your sister-in-law would be very understanding,' he said looking towards the dining room, 'but I could not promise the same of Sir Julius or of his elder daughter. It should be kept from them.'

'That is why we were so secretive.'

'Did your husband embrace the Old Religion as well?'

'Gabriel was taking instruction.'

'A case of true repentance, then.'

'Very much so, Mr Redmayne,' she said softly. 'I was brought up in the Roman Catholic religion. My parents were devout, my uncle was a Jesuit priest who had to flee abroad. These are dangerous times for people like myself. The King has a Catholic wife yet we are still cruelly persecuted.'

'How did your husband come to share your views?'

'It was a slow process. At first, Gabriel was very cynical about religion in general. His faith had never helped him, he said. But he came to see just how important it is to have a spiritual side to your life.'

'Apart from anything else, it was the only way that he could be close to you.'

'Yes, Mr Redmayne.'

'Love came first and commitment followed.'

'Only after long arguments.'

'You must have been a powerful advocate.'

'No,' she said. 'I was simply someone who believed so strongly in my faith that I would not compromise it to be with the man I loved.' A painful memory made her wince. 'And yet I did compromise. I've been tormented by guilt ever since.'

'Guilt?'

'I was forced to make a choice, Mr Redmayne.'

'Between what?'

'Gabriel and my family.'

'Was there no possibility of reconciling the two?'

'None whatsoever,' she explained. 'Mother could never have accepted a man with Gabriel's past. She would have forbidden the marriage just as forcefully as Sir Julius would have done, had he known about it.'

'Who performed the ceremony?'

There was another pause. 'Someone we could trust.'

'In other words, a Catholic priest.'

'I would never marry under any other conditions,' she affirmed. 'Gabriel knew that and he accepted it. Eventually, that is.'

'Those long arguments must have been quite acrimonious at times.'

'They were punishing for both of us.'

'But you achieved harmony in the end.'

'Yes,' said Lucy, her features lighting up for an instant. 'When we were together we were so happy. Gabriel told me that I had saved his life.' Her face clouded. 'Yet, in another sense, I was responsible for his death.'

'That is absurd,' he told her.

'If he had not met me, he would still be alive.'

'Not necessarily.'

'He only turned his back on his friends because of me,' she argued. 'In that world, he was safe, popular and successful. Gabriel had a name.'

'But not one of which he could be altogether proud' said Christopher. 'His was an ugly world, Mrs Cheever, full of cruelty, deception and licentiousness. I know, believe me. I've had to wade through that swamp myself. What you did' he went on, 'was to take him away from it all. You not only gave him a new life, you saved his soul.'

Tears welled up in her eyes. 'That's what I try to tell myself, Mr Redmayne.'

'It's the truth.'

'Thank you.'

'Where was he on the night of his murder?'

'I am not sure,' she said, biting her lip. 'I know where he was supposed to be.'

'And where was that?'

Lucy hesitated. 'I cannot give you a name.'

'I accept that.'

'If it were known that he was living there, it could be fatal for him.'

'Nobody will be told a thing, Mrs Cheever. On my word of honour.'

'What about Mr Bale?' she asked suspiciously. 'He is bound to ask why you are going there. Mr Bale is a good man but he is no friend to the Old Religion. His duty is to suppress it. What will you tell him?'

Christopher was explicit. 'No more than he needs to know.'

Lucy closed her eyes and agonised for minutes before making a decision. 'Gabriel was going to take instruction that night,' she said at length. 'It was somewhere in Warwick Lane.'

'Warwick Lane?'

'Near the junction of Newgate Street. Do not ask me to tell you which house,' she said forlornly, 'because I have sworn never to divulge its exact whereabouts. But that is where Gabriel would have been, Mr Redmayne. My husband may well have been murdered somewhere in that vicinity.'

'Thank you,' he said with feeling. 'We will go there at once.'

'You will search for him, will you?'

'No, Mrs Cheever. All that we will hunt for are some stones.'

'Stones?'

'Yes, Mr Bale tells me there were some small stones caught up in Gabriel's coat. He's kept them as evidence. If we can find out where they came from, we'll know where he was struck down.'

'I see.'

'At least we now have some idea where to look,' he said getting up.

She held his arm. 'As for the other things I told you…'

'Nobody will ever know anything about them from me.'

'Thank you.'

'But what about your mother?' he said. 'Will you tell her the truth now?' She shook her head. 'It might be a way to bring you closer together.'

'Mother is too ill to cope with terrible news. If she heard that I had betrayed her by going behind her back, she would never forgive me. She might even say that Gabriel's death was a judgement on me. In a way,' she confessed, 'I suppose it is.'

'No, Mrs Cheever. You were unlucky, that's all. It was a quirk of fate.'

'Catch them, Mr Redmayne,' she urged. 'Catch them all.'

'We will.'

After giving her more assurances, he went into the dining room to tell Susan that he was leaving. Sorry to see him go, she could tell from his expression that Lucy had confided in him. When she accompanied him to the door to wave him off, something was troubling her.

'Mr Redmayne?'

'Yes?'

'Earlier today, you dictated a letter for me to write.'

'Yes - to Miss Celia Hemmings.'

'Why did you ask me to send it?'

'There's a simple answer to that.'

'Is there?'

'Yes,' he said with a grin. 'I want to read her reply.'

Celia Hemmings took time to make up her mind. She was tempted to accept the invitation, if only to gain more insight into the family from which Gabriel Cheever sprang. But she could see the perils implicit in the situation as well. A meeting with a bereaved sister could be embarrassing for both of them. After mulling it over, she came round to the view that nothing was to be gained by a meeting with a woman she did not know and had no desire to befriend. Reaching for a sheet of paper, she dashed off a quick note.

Five minutes later, it was being carried towards Knightrider Street.

'Why are we going to Warwick Lane?' asked Jonathan Bale, walking beside him.

'That's where Gabriel went on the night of the murder,' said Christopher.

'Why?'

'To see a friend.'

'Is that what his wife told you?'

'Yes, Mr Bale.'

'Why had she kept the information back until now?'

'Who knows?' said Christopher evasively. 'Bereavement has strange effects.'

They turned into Creed Lane and headed north, wondering if they were following the route that Gabriel Cheever had taken on the night he was murdered.

'Warwick Lane is not far,' noted Jonathan. 'It's in Faringdon Ward Within. Not an impossible distance from Paul's Wharf. They might have killed him there and brought his body to Baynard's Castle Ward.'

'That's only supposition.'

'I agree.'

'He could have been brought to the wharf by boat.'

'That, too, is possible. I just have the feeling that the murder did not occur in my ward. If I could prove that,' he confessed, 'it would make me feel better.'

Christopher smiled. 'To prove that your ward was innocent?'

'Oh, there's nothing innocent about it, Mr Redmayne. You should walk through its streets at night. All sorts of crimes take place there under the cover of darkness.'

'I dare say.'

'We have our share of murders, alas.'

'It was how we first met, Mr Bale. When one of my clients was killed.'

'I am not likely to forget.'

'Nor me,' said Christopher. 'It was my first commission. I spent all that time working on the drawings but the house was never built. At least, this latest commission will not be abandoned because of a murder,' he went on happily. 'Sir Julius insists that he still wants his new house.'

'Yes, Mr Redmayne, he mentioned that to me.'

Christopher was surprised. 'You've met Sir Julius?'

'He called on me earlier,' said Jonathan. 'When you came to fetch me, Sir Julius had only just left. He wanted to thank me for my part in the arrest.'

'Quite rightly.'

'Then he more or less ordered me to invite him in.'

'That sounds like Sir Julius Cheever.'

'We talked for a long time.'

'I knew that the two of you would get on.'

'You should not have told him about the Battle of Worcester,' said Jonathan, turning to him. 'It's something I never speak about.'

'Why not? Are you ashamed of your part in it?'

'Quite the opposite.'

'Then you must have enjoyed meeting one of your colonels in that battle.'

'I did, Mr Redmayne. Sir Julius is an interesting man.'

'And an unpredictable one.'

They crossed Ludgate Street and continued along Ave Maria Lane. Though they were chatting easily, both of them kept their eyes peeled for any lanes or alleys that might have been used in the ambush of Gabriel Cheever. At the next junction, they crossed into Warwick Lane itself and carried on until they almost got to Newgate Street. Jonathan spotted an alleyway to the left and decided to explore it, studying the ground with care as he did so. Unable to find what he was after, he gave up the search and went back to Warwick Lane to discover that Christopher had vanished. Assuming that his friend had turned into Newgate Street, he walked in that direction but a call brought him to an abrupt halt.

'Mr Bale!' shouted Christopher.

'Where are you?' asking Jonathan, looking around.

'Down here!'

Another narrow alleyway ran off to the left and bent sharply. Christopher's voice was coming from round the corner. Jonathan lengthened his stride and went down the alleyway. When he came round the bend, he saw that his friend was kneeling down.

'Take a look at these, Mr Bale,' said Christopher.

'Stones?'

'Hundreds of them.'

Jonathan joined him and bent down to scoop up a handful of small white stones. Holding them on the palm of one hand, he used the other to reach in his pocket. When he brought out the stones that had been caught up in the dead man's coat, he placed them beside the others. Christopher scrutinised them.

'A perfect match!' he observed.

'I've never seen stones like this anywhere in my ward,' said Jonathan, feeling their texture. 'They're like chippings from a statue. There must be a stonemason nearby.'

'Then he deserves our thanks,' said Christopher with a grin. 'I think we may have stumbled on the scene of the crime, Mr Bale. And all because you kept a few stones in your pocket.'

Jonathan looked around. A number of houses backed on to the alleyway. Some had doors to their gardens. Even in daylight, it was a fairly private place. At night, it would make an ideal venue in which someone could lurk.

'Who was this friend that Mr Cheever was visiting?' wondered Jonathan.

'His wife refused to tell me.'

'Her husband was killed here. I'm certain of it. They must have taken him to Paul's Wharf across the back of a horse.' He scratched his head. 'Why kill him when they could have stolen the diary while he was out of the house? And if they did have reason to murder Gabriel Cheever, why move him? Why not leave the body here?'

'They had to go to his house, remember,' said Christopher. 'My guess is that they were fearful of being discovered so they threw his body across a horse, took Gabriel with them, used his key to steal what they wanted then went down to the river to find a hiding place for the corpse.'

'Paul's Wharf. They dumped the body beside the warehouse,' recalled Jonathan. 'It had far less chance of being discovered there than in this alley.'

'They reckoned without Mr Warburton's dog.'

Jonathan tossed all the stones away. 'We need to search for witnesses,' he said. 'It may just be that someone heard or saw something suspicious that night. I'll start with the houses that back on to the alley.'

'You'll have to do that on your own, I fear,' said Christopher.

'It's not my job, Mr Redmayne. I want to help you to hunt down those accomplices. I know two of the constables in this ward. They can knock on doors in my stead. I'll go and speak to them. But thank you for bringing me here,' he said solemnly. 'Now we know where he was killed. That's put my mind at rest.'

'Good. I'll get back to Knightrider Street to continue the search.'

'For what?'

'Somebody with neat handwriting, Mr Bale.'

'Stay as long as you wish, Sir Julius,' said Lucy Cheever. 'You're very welcome.'

'I'll inconvenience you no longer than is necessary,' he said. 'But I would like to wait until Mr Redmayne gets back. Where has he gone, Susan?'

'For a walk with Mr Bale,' said his daughter.

'I met the worthy constable when you turned me out into the street.'

'I did not turn you out, Father.'

He gave a chuckle. 'You told me how close Mr Bale lived because you knew that I'd want to speak to the fellow. We had a long talk. Did you know he was a shipwright?'

'No,' she said.

'He spoke very highly of Mr Redmayne.'

'I can understand that.'

'So can I,' said Lucy. 'Mr Redmayne has been so good to me. Whenever I look at that face of his, I remember that he got those scars fighting for his life against Gabriel's killer.'

They were in the parlour at the house in Knightrider Street. Sir Julius was anxious for the latest news. One man might be in custody but there were accomplices still at liberty. He was very disappointed not to be able to confront his son's killer. It made him even more eager to take part in the hunt for the others.

'How long will they be?' he said impatiently

'I have no idea, Father.'

'But they will come back here?'

'Mr Redmayne promised that he would.'

'They have not gone all that far,' volunteered Lucy.

'I wish I'd been here when they left,' said Sir Julius, tapping his foot. 'I could have gone with them. They obviously went in search of more evidence.'

'It might be best if you did not interfere,' suggested his daughter.

'Interfere? It was my son who was murdered Susan.'

'His killer is now in prison. Thanks to Mr Redmayne and Mr Bale. They can manage very well on their own, Father, without having you under their feet.'

'I'm under nobody's feet.'

'No, Sir Julius,' said Lucy. 'Of course not. But Susan makes a sound point. They have worked so well on their own, it might be easier if they continue that way.'

'What am I supposed to do - sit on my hands and wait?'

'Yes,' said Susan firmly.

'It's foreign to my nature.'

She laughed. 'You need hardly tell me that.'

'I want to be involved in the action?' he declared.

Sir Julius pulled himself to his feet and crossed to the window. Susan gestured an apology at Lucy who responded with a tolerant smile. Both women were relieved when he saw something that made him hurry out of the room to open the front door. Hoping that Christopher had returned, Susan went out after him. Lucy waited with trepidation, unsure whether or not Christopher had kept his promise. She had entrusted him with a secret that could be dangerous in the wrong hands. As soon as he came into the room with the others, however, she knew that he had not betrayed her. His greeting was warm, his smile full of gratitude.

'Where have you been?' demanded Sir Julius.

'Father!' scolded Susan. 'Let Mr Redmayne catch his breath.'

'I want to know.'

'We were looking for the scene of the crime, Sir Julius,' said Christopher. 'Acting on information from an anonymous source, we went to Warwick Lane and found what we have been after for some time.'

His version of events was succinct and carefully edited. Lucy was relieved that he made no reference to her, though she was distressed to think that her husband had been murdered in one place then transported through the streets to the wharf. Susan was delighted to have Christopher back in the house and signalled with a glance that she had something for him. Sir Julius kept pressing for details that Christopher did not give.

'Where did this information come from?' he asked.

'That's immaterial,' said Christopher. 'The point is that we now know who killed your son and where the crime occurred. All that is left to establish is motive.'

'How will you do that?'

'By gathering evidence.'

'Let me help you.'

'No, Sir Julius. This is work for Mr Bale and me.'

'Three men are better than two.'

'Not in this case. We know what to look for and where to find it.'

Sir Julius was hurt. 'Am I to be excluded altogether from the hunt?'

'Yes, Father,' said Susan. 'I told you not to impede Mr Redmayne.'

'That's not what he's doing, Miss Cheever,' said Christopher. 'I have great sympathy with your father and I'm grateful for his offer of assistance. But it is not what we need at this point. We have to move stealthily.'

'Is there no role at all for me?' asked Sir Julius.

'Wait until we get back, Sir Julius. Here or at the King's Head.'

'The King's Head it will be,' said the other disconsolately. 'I've no wish to intrude here any longer. Where will you go, Mr Redmayne?'

'I have to see someone in Bedford Street.'

'Another of your anonymous informants?' said Sir Julius sceptically.

'Oh, no. This gentleman is far from anonymous. I wonder if you would excuse us if I ask for a moment alone with your daughter, Sir Julius?' asked Christopher, moving to the door. 'I will not keep her a minute.'

Susan did not wait for her father's permission. She followed Christopher into the hall and closed the door behind them. They spoke in whispers.

'You had a reply?' he said.

'Yes, Mr Redmayne,' she said, handing over the letter that she pulled from her sleeve. 'It arrived just before Father did.'

'What does she say?'

'Miss Hemmings declines my invitation.'

Christopher looked at the distinctive handwriting and felt a surge of triumph. 'It is just as well,' he said. 'For she will be quite unable to meet you now.'

Unaware of developments elsewhere, Henry Redmayne was still suffering the torments of the damned. He writhed in unremitting pain. A blackmail demand had been issued and a death threat made. All that he needed to compound his misery was an unexpected visit from his censorious father. If the Dean of Gloucester were to arrive on the heels of Lord Ulvercombe, he thought, he would at least be on hand to identify his son's dead body. He rebuked himself yet again for his folly in writing so passionately to his mistress. It had earned him a night of ecstasy but the memory of that was of little practical use to him; indeed, he now looked back on it with dread. Lady Ulvercombe had been a spirited lover but an indiscreet one. At least, he consoled himself, he would never have to see her again.

The sound of the doorbell made him jump from his chair in the dining room. When his brother was shown in, he clasped him like a drowning man about to go under the water for the last time.

'Praise God!' he exclaimed with unaccustomed sincerity. 'You're back.'

'And I bring glad tidings, Henry,' said Christopher.

'You found my letter?'

'No, but I've brought one that may turn out to be far more important. The crisis is past,' he announced. 'You can breathe freely again.'

'What do you mean?'

'The killer has been arrested. He's languishing in a prison cell. In addition to that, we've stopped any further extracts from the diary being printed.'

Henry was not reassured. 'How does that help me?'

'The death threat has vanished.'

'Not if my billet-doux finds its way to Lord Ulvercombe.'

'I doubt if that will happen, Henry,' said his brother. 'The man who has it will be too busy trying to make his escape when he learns that his accomplice is behind bars.'

'And who is this man?'

'We are still not quite certain,' admitted Christopher.

'Then why come rushing in here to announce a false dawn?'

'Are you not pleased that we have captured a vicious killer?'

'Of course,' said Henry petulantly. 'The only thing that would make me more pleased would be to hear that Lady Ulvercombe was locked up in the same cell with him. I hear no relief in what you tell me. Whoever has that letter holds the whiphand over me.'

'Not for much longer.'

'You do not even know who he is.'

'I'm fairly certain who his accomplice is. Arrest her and we will get to him.'

'Her?' said Henry. 'A woman is involved?'

'That calligraphy was too neat for a man's hand,' explained Christopher. 'When I sniffed the letter sent to Peter Wickens, I caught a faint whiff of perfume.' He clicked his fingers. 'Where are the blackmail demands sent to you, Henry?'

'Why?' '

'I need the second one now.'

'I carry both of them with me,' said Henry, rummaging in his pocket. 'As a penance.' He found the letters and handed them over. 'Take them.'

Christopher found the second of the two demands and set it on the table, placing the letter to Susan Cheever beside it. There was no possibility of error. The same hand had written both letters. Over his shoulder, Henry noticed a signature.

'Celia Hemmings!'

'She got hold of your billet-doux.'

'How?'

'By accident, probably,' said Christopher. 'Do you remember putting Lady Ulvercombe in touch with her regarding a chambermaid?'

'Vaguely.'

'The girl had worked for Miss Hemmings and her first loyalty was to her. My guess is that she stumbled upon your letter, sensed its potential and gave it to her former mistress. That's putting the kindest construction on it,' he conceded. 'It's just as likely that Miss Hemmings instructed her to look for compromising material. She is clearly well versed in the art of blackmail.'

'I'll throttle her!' yelled Henry.

'You'll do nothing of the kind.'

'Celia Hemmings is a witch!'

'She's a very cunning woman,' said Christopher with a hint of admiration. 'She took me in completely at first. But you can stay here, Henry. Having finally unmasked her, I insist on being the one to confront Miss Hemmings. Jonathan Bale can have the pleasure of making the actual arrest.'

'I want to be there, Christopher!'

'No.'

'I need to repossess that letter before anyone else sees it.'

'I'll take care of all your correspondence,' said Christopher, putting all three letters into his pocket. 'Besides, Miss Hemmings may not have Lady Ulvercombe's letter. It may well be kept by her accomplice. I suggest that you stay here and toast your release. Send for the best wine in your cellar, Henry.'

'I drank it all during my ordeal.'

'Then send out for more. You can afford it now that you will not have to pay five hundred guineas. Enjoy your freedom.'

'What I want to enjoy is the sight of Celia Hemmings being apprehended.'

'Leave that to Mr Bale and me.'

'Why do you need him? Take me instead.'

'He's earned the right, Henry, He's also made a new friend in Sir Julius Cheever.'

'A friend?'

'Yes,' said Christopher, 'they both fought with Cromwell at Worcester. Jonathan Bale has been sharing memories of the battle with him.'

'I hope they remembered that the wrong side won,' said Henry sourly. 'Warn your bellicose constable not to compare memories of that undeserved victory with Arthur Lunn or he may stir up a nest of hornets.'

'Why?'

'Arthur was captured at the battle and imprisoned in Worcester Cathedral. He's still very bitter about it. So is Peter Wickens, I seem to recall. He lost his only brother in that battle. Mr Bale had better not boast about his military record to them.'

'Mr Bale boasts about nothing.'

'You'll not show my letter to him,' said Henry with sudden panic.

'No, Henry. He would blush to read it.'

'Let me come with you to make sure.'

'Stay here and celebrate. This is a wonderful moment for you.'

'It is at that,' said his brother as the implications began to sink in. 'I feel that I have been reborn. All that I need is to have Celia Hemmings roasting on a spit and my joy would be complete.' He gave a cackle. 'I have just had a wicked thought. Arthur Lunn was so lucky to have been imprisoned in Worcester Cathedral. Had he been incarcerated in Gloucester, our dear father would have bored him to death with his interminable sermons.'

Jonathan Bale waited at the designated place and hoped that their second visit to Covent Garden would be more profitable than the first. Having set two constables the task of searching for witnesses in Faringdon Ward Within, he had returned to Addle Hill to find that Christopher had left a message for him. Responding to its request, he hurried straight off to Covent Garden and took up his position. The meeting with Sir Julius Cheever had left him feeling oddly satisfied. Though the old man lacked his Puritan restraint, they had much in common. Jonathan had been intrigued to hear how Sir Julius had marshalled his men at Worcester and at some of the battles preceding it. He could understand only too well how a man with such high moral standards would refuse to acknowledge a rakehell like Gabriel Cheever as his son. Jonathan imagined how he would feel if one of his own boys grew up to cast aside every precept he had been taught.

Christopher Redmayne did not keep him waiting for long. Arriving on his horse, he dismounted to explain to his friend what had happened in his absence. They now had clear proof that Celia Hemmings was involved in the blackmail. When Christopher pointed out her house, Jonathan had some misgivings.

'Let me wait outside,' he said shifting his feet. 'I am never happy in such places.'

'I was going to suggest that you go round to the back of the house, Mr Bale. We are dealing with a slippery lady. If she tries to bolt, my guess is that it will be through the rear entrance of the house.'

Jonathan gave a grim smile. 'I'll be waiting for her, Mr Redmayne.'

'Do not be too gentle. The lady is an accessary to murder.'

'I've arrested lots of women before. They sometimes fight harder than the men.'

Christopher tethered his horse and gave the constable time to get to the back of the house. When he rang the doorbell and gave his name, he was invited into the hall at once. Hearing of his arrival, Celia Hemmings had him shown in and gave him a cordial welcome until she saw his face. She recoiled slightly at the sight of the cuts and bruises but recovered to offer her hand. Christopher took it with gallantry and brushed her fingers with a kiss.

'This is an unlooked for pleasure, Mr Redmayne,' she said.

'That remains to be seen, Miss Hemmings.'

'What happened to your face?'

'Do you really need to ask that?'

'You look as if you've been in a brawl.'

'I survived.'

'I'm delighted to hear that. What exactly happened?'

'Forget about my injuries,' he said, producing a letter from his pocket and showing it to her. 'I believe that you wrote this. It was sent to Miss Susan Cheever.'

'Yes,' she replied warily. 'She invited me to meet her.'

'No, Miss Hemmings. I dictated that letter to her. Miss Cheever only agreed to write it on the understanding that she would never have to come face to face with you.'

Celia was angered. 'You dictated the letter, Mr Redmayne?'

'It was the only way to get a sample of your handwriting,' he explained, taking out another missive. 'I wanted to compare it with the hand on this death threat to my brother. They show a remarkable similarity.'

'A mere coincidence.'

'I think we shall find many more coincidences before we have finished. Like the fact that you once used a strange phrase about Gabriel Cheever to me. You said that his rivals sought to defeat him at the card table, not in a dark alley.' He gave her a smile. 'We found that alley today just off Warwick Lane. How did you know that Gabriel was killed in a place like that?'

'It was just a wild guess.'

'Tell that to the judge.'

'You have no evidence on which to charge me,' she said defiantly.

'We have these two letters and the others you wrote to your victims,' he argued. 'We have the fact that your former chambermaid stole something very compromising from Lady Ulvercombe. And we now know that you went to Gabriel's funeral to gloat.'

'I loved him.'

'Yes, Miss Hemmings. But that love turned sour when he left you.'

'That's not how it happened.'

'I've heard your version,' he reminded her. 'How you bore him no malice when he dropped you like a stone and vanished from sight. That was a blatant lie. In fact, you were furious. I've seen the limits to which that fury pushed you.'

'Have a care, Mr Redmayne,' she warned. 'You're in dangerous waters.'

'They are far less dangerous since my good friend, Mr Bale, took your man-of-war out of the fleet. Do not look for him to come to your aid. Gabriel's killer is locked up safely in prison.'

She leaped to her feet. 'That's impossible!'

'He was taken outside a printer's shop in Fleet Lane. Mr Henshaw kindly pointed him out when he came there earlier today.' A hunted look came in her eyes. 'Who else was in on the conspiracy, Miss Hemmings? Who wrote the first letter to my brother, and the one to Arthur Lunn?'

'Nobody.'

'There must have been.'

'No, Mr Redmayne.'

'I've seen that foul-mouthed rogue you employed to do your killing,' he said. 'I even fought him in the dark. You and he are scarcely natural bedfellows. There has to be someone else with the wit to set this whole scheme up. Admit it.'

'I admit nothing.'

'That former chambermaid of yours may be more willing to speak up.'

'Leave Hetty out of this.'

'But she played such a crucial part. Oh, and by the way,' he remembered 'could I please have my brother's letter back? It has caused more than enough anguish to Henry.'

'Good!'

'Why did you pick on him? Henry has his vices but he's essentially harmless.'

'Your brother is an idiot.'

'No,' said Christopher defensively. 'He's a flawed man who has occasional moments of idiocy. Just like the rest of us. That includes you, Miss Hemmings. After all, you were idiotic enough to imagine that you could get away with this. Gabriel Cheever was killed to assuage your hatred of him. It's only fitting that it was his sister who helped to expose you.' He put the letters back in his pocket. 'You overreached yourself. You wrote one letter too many.'

'What do you want?' she said icily.

'The name of your accomplice or accomplices.'

'There were none.'

'Why prevaricate? You've been caught in your own trap.'

Thinking hard, she moved in closer. 'Did you come on your own, Mr Redmayne?'

'I did not imagine that I would need an army.'

'Who else knows what you've just told me?'

'That's irrelevant. I know, Miss Hemmings.'

'How much would it cost to make you forget it for a while?'

'Are you trying to bribe me?' he said insulted at the very notion.

'All you have to do is look the other way.'

'No!'

'Not even for a hundred guineas?'

'A thousand guineas would not afflict me with temporary blindness,' he asserted. 'Fetch my brother's unfortunate letter to a certain lady, then I'll take you to be charged.'

Celia sagged and nodded in defeat. 'Very well. Let me call my servant,' she said. 'He knows where I keep everything.' She opened the door. 'David! Come here, please.'

The servant who had let Christopher into the house now reappeared. He was a stolid man in his thirties with dark eyes set into a craggy face. His deferential manner suggested someone who was devoted to his mistress.

'Yes, Miss Hemmings?' he enquired.

Her tone changed. 'Mr Redmayne's behaviour is highly offensive to me,' she said harshly. 'Please show him off the premises.'

'At once.' He turned to Christopher. 'This way, sir.'

'Miss Hemmings and I are leaving together,' said Christopher.

'I think not, sir.'

The servant took a firm grip on his arm to march him out. Explanations were pointless. He would not listen to anything Christopher said. His job was simply to obey orders. Wrenching his arm free, Christopher swung round and saw that Celia had already quit the room by means of another door. When he tried to open it, he found that it was locked. He also had the problem of a strong man grabbing his shoulders from behind. Violent action was required. He had no quarrel with the servant but David was now trying to force him across the room. Christopher resisted, trod hard on the man's toe then pushed him over when he hopped in agony on one foot. Before the servant could recover, Christopher caught him on the jaw with a solid punch and dazed him sufficiently to make good his escape. Dashing into the hall, he went out towards the rear of the house until he found a way into the garden. He ran down the path and let himself out through the door in the garden wall.

Jonathan Bale was waiting for him with a squirming Celia Hemmings in his arms.

Christopher grinned. 'I forgot to mention that Mr Bale was with me,' he said.

Henry Redmayne was a self-appointed angel of mercy. Having been given the wondrous news, he wanted to share it with his fellow victims so that they, too, could celebrate their escape from the horror of blackmail. The home of Arthur Lunn was his first port of call and his friend embraced him warmly when he heard the good tidings. Sir Marcus Kemp was even more relieved, bursting into tears and hugging Henry so tightly that he feared for the safety of his coat buttons. When he rode off to visit Peter Wickens, there was still a damp patch on his shoulder from the unmanly display of weeping. Two victims had been delighted with his news. Henry expected a similar reception from Peter Wickens. Shown in to see his friend, he struck a pose and beamed inanely.

'How are you, Peter?' he asked.

'Worried,' said Wickens. 'Deeply worried.'

'Have you paid the blackmail demand yet?'

'No, but I intend to do so.'

'There is no need my friend. I'm here to save you five hundred guineas.'

'How?'

'By giving you the glad tidings that the plot against us has foundered' said Henry. 'My brother called on me not an hour ago.

One of the villains is already in prison and Christopher was on his way with a constable to arrest his accomplice.'

Wickens was taken aback. 'His accomplice?'

'Yes, Peter. Prepare yourself for a shock.'

'Why?'

'It was Celia Hemmings. Actually,' said Henry airily, 'I suspected her all the time. Celia was the only woman who stayed with Gabriel long enough to have access to that diary of this. She knew exactly how profitable it might be.'

'On what evidence was she arrested?' pressed Wickens.

'My brother used a simple ruse. He asked Gabriel's sister to write to Celia and suggest that they met. Celia refused but those few lines that she dashed off in reply sealed her doom. The handwriting matches exactly that on the second letter sent to me.'

'That was clever of your brother.'

'He takes after me.'

'What about this man who was taken?'

'Christopher set a trap for him outside a printer's shop in Fleet Lane,' said Henry. 'When the man turned up to get some more extracts from the diary printed he was ambushed by two constables.'

'I see,' said Wickens thoughtfully. 'Did the man name his accomplices?'

'No, he was a surly beggar. Christopher could get nothing out of him.'

'Then how did he track down Celia Hemmings?'

'Ask him yourself, Peter. The point is that you, Arthur, Sir Marcus and I have been set free at last. Look more cheerful, man,' he urged. 'Are you not pleased?'

'Delighted,' said Wickens, forcing a smile.

'You see now how wise I was to argue against paying any money to them.'

'I thought that was your brother's counsel.'

'Mine, too,' boasted Henry. 'I held firm against the blackguards. Like you, I did not give them a single penny.' He emitted a high laugh. 'But poor Sir Marcus parted with a thousand guineas. I left him wondering if he would ever get it back.'

Stroking his chin, Wickens moved aside for a moment, deep in meditation. When he turned back to Henry, he manufactured a broad grin and patted his friend on the arm.

'Thank you for telling me, Henry. It was kind of you to come.'

'We must all celebrate tonight with Mrs Curtis and her girls.'

'Yes, yes,' said Wickens without enthusiasm. 'A capital notion.'

'By that time,' said Henry, 'everyone involved in the plot will be locked up behind bars. Christopher will soon get the truth out of Celia Hemmings. I doubt if she'll enjoy the stink of a prison cell. They are not too fastidious in Newgate.'

'Quite so.'

'Sir Julius Cheever was overjoyed when they caught the man who killed Gabriel. Wait until he and his accomplices are hanged' said Henry. 'I'll wager that Sir Julius will be at the front of the crowd.'

Wickens was interested. 'Is he in London at the moment?'

'Apparently. My brother met him at the house in Knightrider Street where Gabriel used to live with his wife. She'll be relieved by the turn of events as well.'

'Yes, Henry.'

'It's a golden day for all of us.'

'So it seems.'

Henry rubbed his hands. 'Shall we join Arthur and Sir Marcus?'

'You go on ahead,' said Wickens, easing him towards the door. 'I'll join the three of you later. I have some business to attend to first then I'll carouse with you until dawn.'

'We can raise a glass in memory of Gabriel.'

'We will indeed.'

'The repentant rake.'

Celia Hemmings proved to be an unhelpful prisoner. Confronted with irrefutable evidence of her guilt, she responded with angry denials and refused to name any accomplices. Christopher was disappointed. Someone involved in the plot was still at large and he was no nearer identifying that person or, in point of fact, the man who was already in custody. There was one compensation from the visit to Covent Garden. He now had his brother's billet-doux in his pocket. Jonathan Bale's presence had deterred the servant from any further heroics on behalf of his mistress and the visitors had been able to enter the house to retrieve Henry's letter. What worried Christopher was that there was no sign of Gabriel's diary. He decided that it must still be in the hands of an unknown accomplice and might yet be a source of danger to those whose misdeeds the nascent author had chronicled in such detail.

While Jonathan took charge of the prisoner, Christopher went back to Knightrider Street to report the latest success. He was in luck. Susan Cheever not only answered the door, she explained that her sister-in-law had retired early to bed. She and Christopher were alone again. Her affection for him was more obvious than ever and his fondness for her kept a permanent smile on his face. Christopher explained how Celia Hemmings had been caught and thanked her for her part in the ruse.

'I did very little,' she said.

'You did a great deal,' he told her. 'You were the one person who could have coaxed a letter out of Miss Hemmings. Had I written to her, she would have suspected a trick. You appeared to hold no threat for her. Your innocence exposed her guilt.'

'What will happen to her, Mr Redmayne?'

'She will stand trial with the others and suffer the same fate.'

Susan gulped. 'A horrible way for a woman to die.'

'Miss Hemmings brought it on herself,' said Christopher with a sigh. 'There was no hint of remorse from her. She despised your brother for the way he cast her aside and vowed to get her revenge. At least, we now have her where she belongs. I must pass on the good news to Sir Julius. Did he go back to Holborn?'

'Yes, Mr Redmayne.'

'Then I had better call on him now,' he said reluctant to go.

'Will you come back here afterwards?' she asked hopefully.

'Oh, yes. If you wish.'

'I will count the minutes while you are gone.'

It was the closest she had ever come to a declaration and it gave him the confidence to reach out to take her hands. Susan did not resist. Words were abandoned. They stood there for several minutes without moving. Her hands were warm. Her smile of contentment matched his own. It was Susan who broke the spell.

'You may get to Holborn in time to meet Father's other visitor,' she said.

'Other visitor?'

'Yes, Mr Redmayne. He left here not long before you arrived. He said that he was an old friend of Father's and was anxious to meet him again.'

'Did he give his name?'

'Mr Peter Wickens.'

Christopher was startled. 'Peter Wickens came here?'

'Do you know the gentleman?'

'Only through my brother,' said Christopher, his mind grappling with the news. 'How on earth did Mr Wickens realise that your father was back in London? And what brought him to this address?' he added. 'Nobody knew that Gabriel lived here.' He took her by the shoulders. 'Did you tell him where Sir Julius was staying?'

'Yes. I saw no harm in it. Mr Wickens was very polite.'

'I know. He has great charm when he wishes to use it.'

'He went straight off to the King's Head.'

'Was he on foot?'

'No, Mr Redmayne. He came on his horse.'

'Then I had better get after him at once,' decided Christopher, moving swiftly to the front door. 'Whatever else he is, Peter Wickens is no old friend of your father's, Miss Cheever. I believe that Sir Julius may be in danger.'

Alone in his room, Sir Julius sat on the edge of the bed drumming his fingers impatiently on his knee. He was not used to waiting on the actions of others. Throughout his life, he had always taken the initiative and forced himself to the centre of events. His capacity for leadership and for making prompt decisions had helped his military career to take wing. Promotion had come early and he had gone on to distinguish himself repeatedly in the field. Yet he was now forced to sit in a room at the King's Head, isolated from the action, wondering what was going on and obliged to leave everything to others. His son had come back into his life in the most distressing way. As he reflected on their estrangement, he had to admit that Gabriel was not entirely to blame. It was not simply a case of youthful rebellion that took him to London. Had he shown his son more understanding, Sir Julius could have retained the friendship that had been so important to him in earlier days. He could see that he had been too intractable.

A sharp knock on the door got him to his feet. He was cautious.

'Who is it?' he called.

'My name is Peter Wickens,' came the reply 'Mr Redmayne sent me.'

'You have a message for me?'

'Yes, Sir Julius.'

Unbolting the door, Sir Julius flung it open in the hope of hearing good news. Instead of that, he had a pistol held against his forehead. Wickens pushed him back into the room and closed the door behind him. He guided his captive to a chair. When Sir Julius sat down, Wickens took a step back to appraise him, keeping the pistol aimed at his head. Sir Julius was more curious than afraid.

'Who are you?' he demanded.

'I was a friend of your son, Gabriel,' said Wickens. 'In my view, he was the only good thing to come out of the Cheever family, but we had to kill him none the less.'

Sir Julius was horrified. 'You killed my son?'

'Not exactly but I was there when it happened. Just to make sure that he was dead, I ran him through with my sword.' He gave a mocking smile. 'He died quite peacefully.'

'You devil!' said Sir Julius, trying to get up. When the pistol was placed against his skull again, he lowered himself back into his seat. 'What do you want, Mr Wickens?'

'It's called revenge.'

'Against me?'

'Against you and your family, Sir Julius,' said Wickens, stepping back again. 'I came to like Gabriel or I would have killed him much sooner. He bore a name that I've been taught to hate. Then he told me how much he loathed the famous Colonel Cheever and

I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I spared him until I heard that his father had ambitions to enter Parliament.'

'It's a foregone conclusion.'

'Not any more. I could not have you moving to London and living under my nose. The stench would offend my nostrils.'

'Do you always talk with a pistol in your hand, Mr Wickens?' said Julius, icily calm. 'Put it aside and we can have a proper conversation.'

Wickens gave a sneer. 'You once had a proper conversation with my brother.'

'Did I?'

'His name was Michael Wickens,' said the other. 'Not a name that you would recall, I dare say, because he was only one of many people you killed on the battlefield. Witnesses told me that Michael was shot from close range by a Colonel Cheever. Do you remember the carnage at the Battle of Worcester?'

'That war is over and done with, sir.'

'Not as far as I'm concerned.'

'I fought hard for my side just as your brother must have fought nobly for his.'

'But you are still alive,' said Wickens darkly. 'Michael is not.' He held the pistol within a foot of his captive's head. 'I felt it only right that you should know why I arranged to have your son murdered and why you must follow him to the grave. Say your prayers, Sir Julius. You are going to join your Maker.'

Sir Julius closed his eyes and heard the other's soft laughter. He could not believe that he was being called to account for an unremembered incident in the heat of a battle that took place many years before. Evidently, it was remembered only too well by Peter Wickens.

'You chose an appropriate place, Sir Julius.'

Sir Julius opened his eyes. 'What do you mean?'

'The King's Head. Where better for a traitor who helped to remove a king's head to lose his own life? Farewell, Sir Julius. Go off to join the Lord Protector in Hell.'

He levelled the pistol and took careful aim. Before he could pull the trigger, however, the door burst open and Christopher

Redmayne came hurtling into the room. Wickens was momentarily distracted. Seeing his chance, Sir Julius swung an arm to knock the barrel of the pistol away from him and the weapon went off, firing its ball harmlessly into the ceiling. Wickens was enraged. He used the pistol to club Sir Julius, opening a deep gash in his head. Christopher was on him at once, diving recklessly at Wickens and knocking him to the ground. The ride from Knightrider Street had given him time to work out that he would be dealing with the very accomplice whose name Celia Hemmings had refused to divulge. Wickens was ruthless. He would not scruple to kill again. Christopher grabbed the wrist holding the weapon and twisted it sharply until his opponent was forced to leave go. Sir Julius had staggered back to the chair, holding the wound on his head as he tried to stem the blood, unable to do anything but look on.

Wickens was a determined adversary. Deprived of his weapon, he used his hands to punch, push and claw at Christopher. They grappled rolled knocked over a low table then struggled fiercely to get the upper hand. Wickens was spurred on by a combination of revenge and sheer fury but Christopher's will was even stronger. Certain members of the Cheever family helped to fuel his resolve. He was fighting on behalf of a young husband who was murdered in a dark alley. He was representing a helpless widow who saw her happiness cruelly snatched away from her. In Sir Julius himself, he was striving to save a man whom he admired and a client whom he needed. But, most of all, he was there to rescue Susan Cheever from further distress. As Wickens sat astride him and got both hands to his neck, Christopher summoned up extra reserves of energy. He pulled the hands away, threw his man off then hurled himself on top of him. Urged on by Sir Julius, he punched until resistance slowly began to fade.

Covered in blood and close to exhaustion, Wickens gave up. Christopher pinned him to the floor. The landlord had been roused by the shot and the commotion. He came bustling into the room to see what was happening, and blinked in amazement at the scene.

'What is going on, sirs?' he asked querulously.

'Summon a constable,' said Christopher.

Henry Redmayne was mortified. It was bad enough to be hauled out of his bed by a visitor at that time of morning. After a night of merriment, he had intended to sleep until dinner. When he heard what Jonathan Bale had to say, his misery was compounded. His cheeks were crimson with embarrassment.

'It was my fault?' he said, swallowing hard.

'So it appears, sir,' said Jonathan sternly. 'You were the person who told Mr Wickens what had happened. He went charging off in search of Sir Julius Cheever.'

'How was I to know that Peter Wickens was party to this whole plot?'

'You acted too thoughtlessly.'

'I believed that he was a victim like me. Hell's teeth, man!' he exclaimed. 'Peter came here and showed me the letter he had received.'

'That was to throw us off the scent, Mr Redmayne. Did you never ask yourself why he came to you and not to one of his other friends?'

'No, Mr Bale.'

'It was because he wanted us to know. Realising that your brother was hunting for the blackmailers, he showed that letter to you because you were sure to mention it to your brother. Mr Wickens was never a true victim,' he went on. 'Miss Hemmings wrote that letter for him so that he could hide behind it.'

'Very effectively,' conceded Henry 'I'm shocked to learn that Peter was behind the whole thing. We've shared such jolly times together.'

'There was nothing jolly about the way that Gabriel Cheever was murdered,' said Jonathan. 'Thanks to you, his father was almost killed as well.'

'Dear God!' said Henry, contrite for once. 'What did I do?'

'Your brother will call later, sir. He asked me to explain what occurred yesterday. Mr Redmayne did call here last night but he was told that you were celebrating with friends.' He drew himself up. 'I think that those celebrations were premature.'

Henry nodded in agreement. 'I was too impulsive.'

'Think more clearly next time, sir.'

'I will.'

They were standing in the hall and Henry was feeling profoundly guilty. While he and his friends were carousing the previous night, Christopher was engaged in a desperate fight with Peter Wickens, having saved Sir Julius from certain death. The fact that he had unwittingly alerted Wickens made Henry squirm inwardly. He looked at his visitor.

'Did you find out the name of the assassin?' he asked.

'Reresby, sir,' said Jonathan. 'Caleb Reresby. A discharged soldier.'

'Who hired him? Peter or Celia Hemmings?'

'Mr Wickens. All three will stand trial together.'

'They deserve no less. They put me through an ordeal.' Sensing Jonathan's disapproval, he reined in his self-concern. 'Not that my woes compare with those of Gabriel's widow, of course,' he said, sounding a compassionate note. 'I am free to carry on as before while the Cheever family remains in mourning.'

'Yes, sir.'

Henry could see why his brother had sent Jonathan Bale to break the news to him. The constable was like a figure of doom. His presence was unnerving in a house that was an indictment of all the principles for which he stood. Christopher knew that his friend would make Henry feel at least partially remorseful. In asking Jonathan to visit his brother, Christopher had been playing a joke on him for as serious purpose. Henry was cowed and ashamed. It was only when his visitor was about to take his leave that he remembered something.

'Did Christopher say anything about a letter of mine?' he said anxiously.

'No, Mr Redmayne.'

'Ah.'

'Though he did take one away from the house in Covent Garden,' recalled Jonathan. 'I believe that it had something to do with you, sir.'

'It had everything to do with me!' said Henry under his breath. 'Where is it?'

'Your brother talked about returning it to the person to whom it belonged.'

'That would be cruel!' howled Henry.

'Discuss it with him when he comes, sir.' He opened the front door and bells were heard chiming nearby. 'You may not know this, Mr Redmayne,' he said, noting Henry's dazed expression, 'but it happens to be Sunday.'

Henry blinked in surprise. 'Is it really?'

'Church is the best place for repentance, sir. Goodbye.'

Work began on the new house a few days later. Christopher Redmayne's face was no longer quite so battle-scarred and the wound on Sir Julius Cheever's head was starting to heal. Wearing hats to conceal their injuries, both men were in Westminster to watch the foundations being dug under the vigilant gaze of Sidney Popejoy.

'At last!' declared Sir Julius with a smile of satisfaction.

'I'm sorry for the unfortunate delay,' said Christopher.

'It was not your fault, Mr Redmayne. But for you, there'd be no house at all. If Wickens had had his way, you'd now be attending my funeral.'

'I try to hang on to my clients.'

'This one is deeply grateful to you.' The old man's face clouded. 'I still don't understand why Wickens had to kill Gabriel. His hatred of me is easy to comprehend. In the heat of battle, I did shoot his brother, I can't deny that. But why did Wickens have to go after my son as well?'

'The answer is simple,' explained Christopher. 'He bore your name. It's ironic, Sir Julius. The one thing that Gabriel did not leave behind when he left home was the family name. He carried it with pride and it proved to be his downfall.'

'Yet he and Peter Wickens were friends for a time.'

'That was until you appeared on the scene yourself,' said Christopher. 'His friendship with Gabriel had already turned sour and the news of your imminent return to London only intensified the situation. When Sir Marcus Kemp mentioned that he'd seen Gabriel in Knightrider Street, Wickens was determined to kill him. And as we discovered' he sighed, 'h? had an accomplice to strengthen his resolve.'

'Miss Celia Hemmings.'

'Yes, Sir Julius. She had her own reasons to hate Gabriel,' he said tactfully omitting any details of their earlier relationship. 'When she stumbled upon something of his that could be used for the purposes of blackmail, she and Peter Wickens joined forces against your son. They were a formidable team.'

'So were you and Mr Bale.' A spasm of pain shot through him. He gritted his teeth. 'In a sense, I'm to blame,' he said guiltily. 'My return to London prompted Gabriel's death. If I had not conceived the ambition to enter Parliament, my son might still be alive.'

Christopher shook his head. 'I think that unlikely. With enemies like Peter Wickens and Celia Hemmings, your son's life was always under threat. They went to great pains to track him down when he turned his back on them,' he pointed out. 'They were ruthless. They wanted revenge. Don't blame yourself, Sir Julius.'

'I'm bound to, Mr Redmayne.' He saw the builder approaching and brightened. 'Here comes Popejoy. You might have found me someone with a different name,' he said with a chuckle. 'Popejoy, indeed! Why saddle a confirmed Protestant like me with a builder called that? I take no joy from any Pope.'

'You'll find him an excellent man.'

'I'm sure.' He glanced across at the nearby coach. 'I need to speak to him alone, Mr Redmayne,' he said with a twinkle in his eye. 'This might be the moment for you to bid farewell to my daughter.'

Christopher needed no more encouragement. He hurried across to the coach. Susan had been watching them through the window but she now leaned back in her seat. Christopher removed his hat to speak to her.

'I hope that you're not going to stand out there, Mr Redmayne,' she said.

'Well, no, I suppose not.'

'Step inside, sir. We're entitled to a little privacy.'

'Of course,' he said getting into the coach. 'I was about to suggest that.' He sat opposite her and felt a surge of pleasure. 'I'll miss you,' he confessed.

'Will you?'

'Northamptonshire is such a long way away.'

'But that's not where I'm going, Mr Redmayne.' 'Oh?'

'Father is taking me to Richmond so that I can stay with my sister and her husband,' she announced. 'He'll then go back home on his own.' His delighted reaction made her giggle slightly. 'You seem pleased by the news.'

'I'm overwhelmed with joy,' said Christopher.

'I could hardly stay in the city,' she went on. 'Not now that Lucy has decided to go back to her mother. London holds too many bitter memories for her.'

'I know,' he said sadly. 'It was sensible of her to agree to the destruction of that diary. I had immense satisfaction from burning it. In the wrong hands, your brother's memoirs did untold damage.' He moved to the edge of his seat and searched her eyes. 'Why did you choose to go to Richmond'

Susan gave a shrug. 'The thought of being stuck in the house with Father was not altogether enticing,' she explained. 'I elected to stay with Brilliana instead.'

'May I call on you there?'

'I'm relying on it, Mr Redmayne. I'll need some diversion.'

Christopher pulled a face. 'Is that all I am to you? A mere diversion?'

'What else are you?' she teased.

'I'll be happy to show you.'

He leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek and she squeezed his arm fondly.

'I fancy that my sister and I will be doing a lot of shopping in London,' she said artlessly. 'Of course, there will be times when Brilliana will be too busy to accompany me. I may have to come here alone, Mr Redmayne.'

Christopher beamed. 'You'll have no cause to repent that decision,' he promised.

Their laughter sealed the bond.