Edward Marston - The Repentant Rake

Eager to stay with her as long as possible, he had sensed that he should withdraw in order to let her talk in private with her father. They had been grateful for his considerate behaviour. There was much for them to discuss and it was over an hour before they called him back into the room. Even though Sir Julius still looked hurt and betrayed, a measure of understanding had clearly been achieved between father and daughter. Christopher prevailed upon them to eat a light supper then they departed for the night to their separate rooms. When Jacob had cleared everything away, his master sent him off to bed as well, wanting to stay up for a while himself to reflect on events. The very fact that Susan Cheever was sleeping beneath his roof gave him a recurring thrill. Even in such unfortunate circumstances, she was a most welcome guest. Her bedchamber adjoined his own. When he laid his head on his pillow, he realised, he would be less than six feet away from her. Christopher picked up the one remaining candle and headed for the stairs.

A knock on his front door made him pause. He wondered who could be calling at such an hour. When he opened the door, he found himself looking at the last person he expected to find there.

'Mr Bale!'

'I am sorry to disturb you, Mr Redmayne,' said Jonathan, hands gesturing an apology, 'but I have learned something that may be of interest.'

'Come in, come in.'

'No, sir. It's far too late and I've a home of my own to get to.'

'What is it that you have discovered?'

'I spoke to a Mrs Runciman,' explained Jonathan. 'She lives close to the Cheever house in Knightrider Street. Gabriel Cheever and his wife kept themselves to themselves, it seems, though she always saw them going to church on Sundays. It was as I was leaving Mrs Runciman that I was given the news.'

'What news, Mr Bale?'

'The maidservant must have seen me as I went past the house earlier.'

'Anna? The Cheevers' maidservant?'

'Yes. She was waiting for me in the street. After we left her this afternoon, Mrs Cheever asked the maid to search the house more thoroughly to see if anything was taken. It was, Mr Redmayne.'

'Go on.'

'Some of Mr Cheever's papers were missing.'

'I knew it!' said Christopher.

Jonathan was puzzled. 'You did? How?'

'This is not the time to explain. Suffice it to say that Gabriel Cheever had written something that could be a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands. Thank you, Mr Bale,' he said effusively 'I'm so grateful that you brought this information.'

'I felt that it might be important.'

'It is crucial.'

'Good,' said Jonathan. 'My visit to Mrs Runciman was worthwhile.'

He bade farewell and set off down the street with his long stride. Christopher watched him until he was swallowed up by the darkness, then closed the front door and withdrew into the house. Before he could retire to bed, however, he was detained yet again.

The clatter of hooves made him prick up his ears. Someone was riding along Fetter Lane at speed. When he heard the horse being reined in outside his door, he knew that he had another visitor. Christopher opened the door to see his brother dismounting from the saddle. Henry was almost out of breath.

'Thank goodness you are here, Christopher!' he exclaimed.

'Why? What ails you?'

'I'm being followed.'

'By whom?' said Christopher, looking up and down the empty street. 'I see nobody. Your imagination is playing tricks on you, Henry.'

'There was someone, I tell you. He has been on my tail every inch of the way.'

'You've shaken him off now.'

'Only because I've found sanctuary,' said Henry, glancing over his shoulder. 'He is probably hiding in the shadows somewhere. Let me come in.'

'At this hour?'

'Please. I must.'

'As you wish. Tether your horse by the stable.'

A minute later, Henry stepped gratefully into the house and shut the door behind him. Christopher took him into the dining room, lit some more candles then passed a bottle of brandy to Henry. His brother poured some into a glass and drank it down.

'I needed that,' he said.

'You're shaking all over.'

'You would shake if you had an assassin stalking you.'

'Is that what you think he was?'

'What else could he be?' asked Henry impatiently. 'I receive a death threat and someone follows me home in the dark. Even you must see a link between those two events, Christopher.'

'A possible link,' conceded his brother.

'Possible enough for me. I'll go no further tonight.'

'You must, Henry.'

'I'll stay the night here. Have Jacob prepare a room for me.'

'Jacob is fast asleep in bed.'

'Then rouse him from his dreams at once,' ordered Henry.

'Damn it, man! I'm your brother. My safety surely comes before your servant's comfort.'

'Of course, but I already have guests here. There's no room to spare.'

'Guests?'

'Sir Julius Cheever and his younger daughter.'

Henry was indignant. 'Are they being preferred over me as well?'

'It is not a question of preference,' said Christopher soothingly, 'but of expedience. They came to London to identify Gabriel's body. I could hardly turn them away.'

'Why not? You turn me away.'

'That's not what I'm doing. Stay if you must, Henry. I'll even surrender my own bed to you, if it means so much to you. All I am saying is that this is not the most convenient time. You must appreciate that.'

'Why talk of convenience when my life is at stake?' complained Henry.

'Hush!' said Christopher with a finger to his lips. 'You'll wake them. I promise you this. If you're too nervous to continue on home yourself, I'll act as your bodyguard and deliver you safely to Bedford Street.' He patted his brother's arm. 'Now, why not tell me exactly what happened tonight and why you believe that you are being followed?' He indicated the bottle. 'Help yourself to more brandy.'

Henry was slightly mollified. After draining his glass, he poured himself another drink then launched into his tale. His evening at the gaming house had been extended well into the night by Sir Marcus Kemp, who refused to quit the table while he was winning. Banking on his friend's company, Henry had eventually been forced to ride home alone and found that someone was lurking outside to trail him.

'The villain might have struck at any moment!' he concluded.

'Then why didn't he?'

'He was biding his time.'

'It's more likely that he was thinking twice about attacking you when he saw that you carried a sword. You called him an assassin,' said Christopher reasonably, 'but he could just as easily have been a robber, waiting to pounce on some unwary gentleman who was rolling home alone with too much drink inside him.' He gave a smile. 'Or he might just have been someone travelling harmlessly in the same direction as you.'

'There was nothing harmless about this man, Christopher.'

'How do you know?'

'I could feel his menace.'

'Henry, you would feel menaced if a cat followed you home.'

'That's a heartless thing to say!' protested Henry. 'Do you want your brother to be stabbed in the back only yards from his own front door?'

'No,' said Christopher, 'but then, that would never happen. Why wait until you reach Bedford Street before attacking you when you've already ridden past a dozen more suitable places for an ambush? Nobody is trying to kill you, Henry. I am sure of that.'

'You saw that letter.'

'It achieved what it intended. To give you a fright.'

'It certainly did that. I've had enough, Christopher.'

'Enough?'

'I'm inclined to pay the money and have done with the whole thing!'

'That's the last thing you must do.'

'My life is more important to me than five hundred guineas.'

'But that will not buy you peace of mind,' asserted Christopher. 'It's only a first instalment. When he's squeezed one payment out of you, the blackmailer will have you at his mercy. The demands will never cease.'