Edward Marston - The Repentant Rake

'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.'