Edward Marston - The Repentant Rake

'No, Sir Marcus. They will not need to read the contents. A glance will suffice to tell them if it is their handiwork. Once we know who paid to have it printed, we can arrest the villain and you can breathe freely once more.'

'That document is not leaving this house.'

'May I at least have a sight of it?'

'Certainly not.'

'But it's in your best interests.' Kemp turned away. Christopher went after him. 'I understand that it was accompanied by a letter. Could I please look at that, Sir Marcus? I merely wish to establish if it was written by the same hand that penned Henry's death threat. That will not compromise you, surely?'

'I'll show you nothing.'

'Then you must resign yourself to your fate.'

'No,' said Kemp, swinging round to confront him. 'I'm going to buy my way out of this mess. If I had had the sense to do that at the start, I could have saved myself five hundred guineas. I'll pay up and have done with it.'

'It will not get the blackmailer off your back.'

'So you say, but I'm ready to take that chance.'

'What happens if you fail?' An idea suddenly popped into Christopher's mind. 'When the first letter came, Sir Marcus, did it explain how the money was to be paid?'

'Yes.'

'Presumably, it is to be dropped somewhere?'

'At a spot in Covent Garden.'

'By you or by someone else?'

'That was not specified.'

'Do you intend to place the money there in person?'

'Heavens, no! I'd not have the stomach for it.'

'Then let me make a bargain with you, Sir Marcus,' said Christopher. 'There's an element of danger here. The blackmailer is also capable of murder. Remember that. Whoever delivers the money is taking a risk.'

'I can see that.'

'What if I were to act on your behalf and go to the designated spot?'

Kemp was grateful. 'Would you?' he asked, grasping Christopher's arm.

'On one condition.'

'Condition?'

'Yes. If your tormentor is bought off with a thousand guineas, all well and good. But if, as I suspect, he takes the money then sends you a further demand, you let me see everything that he has sent you. Is that fair?'

'No, Mr Redmayne. It would be too embarrassing.'

'What is a little embarrassment if it leads to the capture of a vicious criminal? Come, Sir Marcus,' he urged. 'I am not going to be shocked by anything I read. With a brother like Henry, I have been well educated in the ways of the world.'

Kemp chewed his lip and looked shrewdly at his visitor. Christopher was discreet and sincere. If he could not be trusted his brother would not have confided in him. Kemp was not attracted to the proposition but it did have one advantage. Someone else would be taking any risks involved in delivering the payment.

'Well, Sir Marcus?' pressed Christopher. 'Do you accept my offer?'

'Yes,' said Kemp, overcoming his reluctance. 'The bargain is sealed.'

When prayers had been said, the Bale family began their meal. The two boys, Oliver and Richard, fell on their supper with relish, chewing it so noisily and swallowing it so fast that their mother had to issue a warning.

'You must not gobble your food like that,' she said. 'It will do you no good.'

'I'm hungry,' replied Oliver through a mouthful of bread.

'Eat more slowly, Oliver.'

'And wait until you empty your mouth before you speak,' added Jonathan.

'Will you read to us tonight, Father?' asked Richard the younger of the boys.

'Only if you eat your food properly.'

'I want to know what happened to Joseph and his brothers.'

'You will.'

'Oliver says that he kills them all.'

'I said that he ought to kill them,' corrected Oliver, still munching happily.

'No, Oliver,' said his father seriously. 'Murder is a terrible crime.'

'But they deserve it,' argued the boy.

'Nobody deserves to be killed.'

'His brothers treated him cruelly. They wanted to get rid of him because they were jealous of him. They left him down that well.'

'Yes,' said Richard, eager to show his knowledge of the story.

'They took his coat of many colours and dipped it in blood. They told their father that Joseph had been killed by a wild beast.'

'That was because Joseph had disappeared,' Jonathan reminded them. 'It was Reuben, the eldest of the brothers, who persuaded the others to spare him. But when Reuben went to release him, Joseph had gone.'

'Where?' asked Richard.

'Wait and see.'

'I want to know now.'

'The words of the Bible tell the story far better than I can.'

'But I can tell you this,' said Sarah, brushing Richard's hair back from his face with a maternal hand. 'Joseph does not kill his brothers.'

'Cain killed his brother,' noted Oliver.

'That was a dreadful thing to do. Brothers should love one another.'

'Is it always wrong to kill somebody?'

'Yes,' said Jonathan firmly. 'Always.'

'Was it wrong to chop off the head of the last king?'

'Oliver!' chided his mother.

'Was it?' persisted the boy. 'You named me after Oliver Cromwell yet he was the man who murdered the king. Was that a crime?'

'Was it, Father?' asked Richard. 'Was it a crime or a sin?'

'I think it was both,' decided Oliver.

Jonathan glanced uneasily at his wife. 'Finish your supper, boys,' he advised. 'I can explain it to you when I put you to bed. And you will learn what happened to Joseph as well. But only if you eat your food quietly, as your mother told you.'

The boys were sufficiently mollified to eat on in relative silence. Jonathan was learning that it was not easy to bring up two inquisitive sons. Oliver was eight and his brother was fifteen months younger. They asked questions that were sometimes difficult to answer. On the previous evening, Richard had enquired what a concubine was. It had caused Jonathan some embarrassment to explain but he had been honest. Oliver had giggled while Richard had blushed. Looking at his sons, Jonathan reflected how similar they were in appearance yet how different in character. It led to endless squabbles between them. He wondered how they would get on when they became adults and his mind drifted to another pair of brothers. Christopher and Henry Redmayne could not have been more disparate. They led divergent lives. While he admired one brother, Jonathan had polite contempt for the other. Yet they had been raised in the same way by their parents. What had made Christopher and Henry grow in opposite directions? Why had one embraced work while the other espoused idleness? Jonathan was exercised by the thought of how he could prevent the same thing from happening to his own sons.

'Will you be going out again this evening?' asked Sarah.

'Yes,' said Jonathan.

'Not until you have read to us,' Richard piped up.

Jonathan smiled. 'Of course not. I want to know what happens to Joseph myself.'

'Will you be late?' said Sarah.

'I hope not. I am going to meet Mr Redmayne.'

Sarah was disappointed. 'Is he not coming here?'

'Not this evening, Sarah.'

'Do give him my regards.'

'I will,' said Jonathan. 'I told him how helpful you had been. Without you, I might never have got to know the vigilant Mrs Runciman in Knightrider Street. And it was you who suggested that I got in touch with Mr Redmayne in the first place.'

'You and he work well together, Jonathan.'

'I still wonder why sometimes,' confessed her husband.

'You have so much in common.'

'Hardly, Sarah. Mr Redmayne consorts with the highest in the land while my work makes me rub shoulders with the very lowest. Had it not been for sheer accident, we would never have met.'

'Are you glad that you did?'

'I think so.'

Sarah laughed. 'Oh, Jonathan!' she teased. 'You will hold back so. Be honest for once. You know that you like Mr Redmayne as much as I do but you never admit it. He obviously respects you.'