Edward Marston - The Frost Fair

'I come here to see friends, not to be interrogated.'

'I thought that Henry Redmayne was one of those friends.'

'Well, yes,' said the other,' he is. More often than not, he'd be sitting in that chair opposite me. Henry is a fine fellow. But, like me, he loathes any interruptions.'

'He needs your help, Sir Humphrey.'

'He has it, man. He knows that I'll speak up for him in court.'

'There are a few questions I wish to put to you first.'

'This is not a convenient moment,' said Sir Humphrey testily. 'I've arranged to meet someone and he'll be here at any moment.'

Jonathan folded his arms. 'Then I'll wait.'

'I can't have you standing over me like that.'

'Would you prefer that I sat down?'

'No!'

'The questions are important, Sir Humphrey.'

'So is drinking my coffee in peace.'

'I won't disturb you.'

Jonathan stood there obstinately with his feet wide apart. Other customers were glancing across at him and speculating audibly on why he was there. Though he felt incongruous among the moneyed and over-dressed habitues of the coffee house, he was determined not to budge. Sir Humphrey eventually capitulated.

'Very well,' he snarled. 'Ask your questions then get out of here.'

'My first question is this. Why are you so unwilling to assist your friend?'

'I'll assist Henry in any way that I can.'

'That was not his brother's opinion, Sir Humphrey, nor is it mine. Both of us have seen how you put your own interests before those of a man in a desperate situation.'

'What more can I do?'

'You might visit him in prison to offer your sympathy.'

'Go to Newgate?' said Sir Humphrey, offended by the suggestion. 'The place is rife with disease, man. You'll not find me going into a fetid swamp like that.'

'Mr Crenlowe had enough compassion to call on a friend.'

'Then Martin will have spoken for both of us.'

'Are you trying to disown Mr Redmayne?'

'That's a scandalous suggestion, Mr Bale, and I resent it.' He made a visible effort to sound more reasonable. 'Look, man,' he said. 'Nothing can be achieved by my visiting Henry in prison. I know him. He'd be mortified to be seen in such dire straits. It's a kindness not to trouble him. But that does not mean I've forgotten the poor fellow. Only yesterday, I spent half an hour with the lawyer whom his brother has engaged to defend Henry. I spoke up strongly for him.'

'Could you offer any firm evidence to prove his innocence?'

'It does not need to be proved. Henry would never do such a thing. It's as simple as that. You do not spend so much time in the company of a friend without understanding his essential character.'

'He's prone to lose his temper.'

'Most of us are, Mr Bale,' said the other, glaring at him. 'When provoked.'

'Were you sorry to hear that Signor Maldini had been murdered?'

'Not at all. I was delighted.'

'Did you dislike him so much?'

'I dislike all foreigners, sir. They should be sent back where they belong.'

'The Queen is a foreigner,' noted Jonathan, arching an eyebrow. 'Would you have Her Majesty sent back to her own country?' 'Of course not, you idiot! Royalty is above reproach.'

'That's a matter of opinion, Sir Humphrey.'

'Jeronimo Maldini was a scheming Italian without a decent bone in his body. He was a fine swordsman, I grant him that. I've never seen a better one. But he did not respect his betters, Mr Bale.' His eyes ignited. 'He did not know his place.'

'Who stabbed him in the back?'

'It was not Henry Redmayne.'

'Who else could it have been?'

'I wish I knew, sir. I'd like to congratulate him.'

'Do you condone an act of murder, then?'

'I abhor the taking of life but applaud the result in this case.'

'That's as much as to say you think the killing was justified.'

'It rid us of a foul pestilence.'

'Captain Harvest does not think so.'

'Do not listen to James,' said Sir Humphrey, flushing with anger. 'He actually liked that execrable foreigner. That was his besetting sin. He could not discriminate. James liked almost everybody.'

'He does not seem to like Henry Redmayne.'

'James had a blind spot where Henry was concerned.'

'Is that all it was?' asked Jonathan. There was no reply. 'Someone must pay the penalty for this crime, Sir Humphrey,' he resumed. 'Most people believe that the culprit has already been caught.'

'Only because they do not know him as we do.'

'If he's innocent, someone else must have wielded that dagger. I realise that Captain Harvest was a friend of the dead man but could he have been the killer?'

"That's a ludicrous notion!'

'Mr Crenlowe did not think so.'

'James had no motive,' said Sir Humphrey. 'We all gain by the murder. He is the only one who stands to lose. Why search for a killer among the four of us who shared a meal that night? Nobody knows better than a constable how many hazards there are at night in the streets of London. There are hundreds of villains at large who'd stab a man in the back for the sheer pleasure of it.'

'But they'd have their own weapons,' observed Jonathan. 'They'd not use a dagger that was owned by Mr Redmayne. How do you account for that?' There was another silence. 'And I have to disagree with your earlier comment, Sir Humphrey,' he continued. 'You do not all gain from this murder. As a result of it, Mr Redmayne may well lose his life.'

Before he could respond, Sir Henry saw someone walking down the room and rose to welcome him. Martin Crenlowe was surprised to see the constable there. After an exchange of greetings, the two friends took their seats at the table.

Sir Humphrey was abrupt. 'Will that be all, Mr Bale?'

'For the moment,' said Jonathan. 'I may need to speak to you again.'

'Do not dare to do so in here again. You have created a scene.'

'That was not my intention, Sir Humphrey.'

'What about me, Mr Bale?' asked Crenlowe, adopting a more helpful tone. 'Shall you require some more information from me? I'll be happy to furnish it.'

Thank you, sir.'

'I'm sorry if I was a trifle brusque with you at our last meeting.'

'You were in a hurry, Mr Crenlowe. I understood that.'

'Henry's welfare comes before my family obligations.'

'I agree,' added Sir Humphrey. 'Now perhaps you'll leave us alone so that we can enjoy a cup of coffee. We have much to discuss.'

Jonathan looked from one to the other. 'I'm sure that you have, Sir Humphrey.' He touched the brim of his hat. 'Good day to you, gentlemen.'

Another day had been swallowed up with frightening speed by the crisis. Christopher Redmayne suddenly found that evening was already starting to chase the last rays of light out of the sky yet again. Much had been done but little had so far been achieved. After his visit to the prison, he had returned to the house in Bedford Street to hand over the discarded clothing to Henry's valet and to assure him, and the other servants who gathered anxiously around him, that their master would eventually be released without a stain on his character. They tried hard to believe him but Christopher could see that they feared the worst. Their own futures looked bleak. It would not be easy for the servants of a convicted murderer to find a new master.

After dining early at home, Christopher went off for another meeting with the lawyer who would fight to save Henry's life in court. Indifferent to the legal costs that he was running up, he spent the whole afternoon with him but the man was able to hold out much hope of success. All that Christopher could offer him were hearsay evidence and intelligent speculation. The prosecution, by contrast, had a murder weapon with his brother's initials on it. He was irritated by the excessive caution of his legal advisor but he could do nothing to dispel it. A mood of pessimism hung over the whole discussion. By the time that he left, Christopher was forced to accept that, unless he and Jonathan Bale found an alternative killer, then Henry Redmayne's initials might already be on the hangman's rope as well.