'I just wanted him to know that we had not abandoned him.'

'We?'

'His friends, Mr Redmayne. We're standing by him. Neither of us will accept that Henry is capable of a foul murder. He's a man of hot words rather than rash deeds. Sir Humphrey and I in agreement on that.'

'How long have you known Henry?'

'Some years.'

'Long enough to understand his failings, then.'

'And to appreciate his virtues, for he has those as well.'

Christopher appraised him. In appearance and inclination, Sir Humphrey G.o.dden had seemed a natural companion for his brother but the goldsmith somehow did not. He seemed too quiet, intelligent and responsible. Unlike many of Henry's friends, Crenlowe worked for a living and clearly made a good profit by doing so. Looking at him now, Christopher had to remind himself that the man had been a pupil of the Italian fencing master and spent the evening with Henry on the night of the murder.

'I've spoken with Sir Humphrey G.o.dden,' said Christopher.

'What did he tell you?'

'Almost nothing of value, Mr Crenlowe. Indeed, he was loath to talk to me at all as he was late for an appointment. You've shown Henry true friendship, and I'm grateful to you for that, but I saw little of it when I visited Covent Garden.'

'Sir Humphrey can be brusque at times.'

'This was one of them.'

'Do not be deceived by his manner. He's very fond of your brother.'

'I saw no desire in him to work for Henry's release.'

'That will surely come when the facts emerge.'

'It was those same facts that landed him in prison in the first place.'

'Henry is the victim of circ.u.mstance,' said Crenlowe, stroking his double chin. 'It was his misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.'

'And why was that?'

'Because we all went our separate ways in Fenchurch Street.'

'Yes,' said Christopher, 'but Sir Humphrey travels by coach. Bedford Street is not far from his own home. He could easily have given my brother a lift, could he not?' 'He offered to do so, Mr Redmayne.'

'Then why did Henry not accept?'

'Because he was in a contentious mood,' explained the goldsmith. "The meeting with Jeronimo Maldini had stirred up his ire. Throughout the meal, Henry could talk of nothing else but settling a score with the fencing master. Sir Humphrey had no love for the fellow but even he tired of hearing the endless rant. He wanted to leave. When he suggested that Henry should go with him, he was waved away so off he went.'

'What of you and Captain Harvest?'

'We, too, had places to go. My wife was waiting up for me and James - Captain Harvest, that is - had promised to call on friends. We urged Henry to find a carriage to take him home.'

'Then walked off and left him.'

'Unhappily, yes. I've been writhing with guilt ever since.'

'My brother was not your responsibility.'

'I should have done something, Mr Redmayne. Henry had drunk far too much. He was in a dangerous mood. The least I could have done was to make sure that he was driven home.'

'What of Captain Harvest?'

'He went off in the other direction.'

'Did he not think of taking care of my brother?'

'I fear not.'

"Why was that?'

'Because he was a good friend of Jeronimo Maldini. The rest of us had fallen out with him but James still went to the fencing school and even taught there. That was part of the trouble,' said Crenlowe with a sigh. 'He came to his friend's defence when Henry started to attack Signor Maldini. That only enraged your brother the more. He accused James of being in league with the Italian against him. Henry's language became very intemperate.'

'How did Captain Harvest respond?'

'He tried to laugh it off, as he always does. But he was angry, I could see that.'

'What did he do?'

'Stalked off as soon as we left the tavern.'

'Henry can look for no support from him, then?'

'On the contrary,' said Crenlowe, shaking his head, 'he'll get nothing but abuse. James is voicing it abroad that your brother was the killer. Jeronimo Maldini was more than a friend of his, you see. He was source of income for James. He borrowed a little money from me and even more from Sir Humphrey, but it was the fencing school that allowed him an income of sorts. Signor Maldini was generous to his friends. I know that he loaned James money on several occasions.'

'Was it ever paid back?'

'Oh, yes. James often had a run of luck at the card table.'

'Henry says that he cheated.'

"That was his opinion.'

"There's no truth in the charge?'

'Not as far as I know,' said the goldsmith. 'James had a knack for card games, there's no doubt about that. I've seen him win five hundred guineas in a night.'

'What did he do with his money?'

Crenlowe laughed. 'Lose it just as quickly the following day.'

'That was very careless of him.'

'James is a soldier of fortune,' said the goldsmith with grudging admiration. 'He takes life as it comes and makes the most of it. Rich or poor, he's happy with his lot. It's not an existence that I envy, Mr Redmayne.'

'I can see that.'

Christopher was glad that he had decided to call on Martin Crenlowe. There was a quiet complacency about the goldsmith that made it impossible to like him but he was much more forthcoming than Sir Humphrey G.o.dden. He also evinced far less hostility towards the murder victim. Christopher wondered why.

'What did you make of Signor Maldini?' he asked.

'I respected him greatly as a fencing master.'

'And as a man?'

'I had less time for him. He was not the most appealing individual.'

'Did he ever try to humiliate you at the school?'

'Yes,' said Crenlowe with a frown. 'He goaded me unmercifully. You can see from my shape that I'm no swordsman of note. Jeronimo Maldini was and he made me look ridiculous in front of my friends.'

'Is that why you left the school?'

'It was, Mr Redmayne. I like to be treated with respect.' 'Henry, too, suffered at his hands.'

'Even more than I did. He was livid. He talked of shooting Signor Maldini.'

'But not of stabbing him in the back.'

'He could never do that,' a.s.serted Crenlowe, rising to his feet. 'Henry Redmayne is first and foremost a gentleman. You, above all people, should know that.'

'I do,' said Christopher loyally. 'I can see that you're a busy man, Mr Crenlowe, so I'll not impose on you for much longer. But I would like to ask about that evening when the four of you had a meal together.'

'Ask anything you wish.'

'Henry told me that you had a chance meeting with Signor Maldini?'

'And so we did. It was not far from Fenchurch Street.'

'So the four of you were walking along together when you were accosted by the fencing master. Is that what happened?'

'No, Mr Redmayne.'

"Then perhaps you could explain what did.'

'Certainly,' said the other. "There were only three of us strolling along that evening - Sir Humphrey G.o.dden, Henry and myself.'

'Where was Captain Harvest?'

'He arrived with Jeronimo Maldini.'

Christopher was astonished. 'Even though he knew how much you all disliked his friend? Some people might say that that was an act of provocation.'

'James said that he had met Signor Maldini by accident. He'd arranged to meet us at the tavern and did not expect to encounter the three of us in the street. In fairness to him, when the argument started, James was the one who tried to quell it.'

'Do you believe that the meeting with his friend was accidental?'

'I did at the time.'

'And now?'

'I think that James was lying,' said Crenlowe seriously. 'He merely pretended to intervene in a quarrel that he had deliberately set up. Henry Redmayne and Jeronimo Maldini were like two fighting c.o.c.ks. Captain James Harvest was the man who sharpened their spurs.'

Chapter Eight.

Jonathan Bale always felt uncomfortable when he visited the house in Fetter Lane. It was s.p.a.cious, well-furnished and filled with the individual touches that only a man of artistic talent could devise. It made his own home seem small, bare and lacking in any real character. The presence of a servant was another factor that set the two abodes apart. Employing someone to cook, clean and run the house was a concept that Jonathan would never have considered, even if he could have afforded the expense. There was streak of self- reliance in him that rebelled against the very notion. While he liked Jacob Vout as a person, therefore, the man's role as a servant made their relationship uneasy for him. The constable was soon shuffling his feet.

'I'd best be on my way,' he decided.

'Mr Redmayne will be back very soon,' said Jacob.

'I'll call again later.'

'Why bother when you can see him now? He's eager to speak to you, Mr Bale.'

'And I wish to speak to him, Jacob.'

'Then try to be patient. You'll not have long to wait.

Jonathan sat back in the chair but he could not relax. Anxious to pa.s.s on what he had learned, he had called at Christopher's house that afternoon and been disappointed that his friend was not there. Twenty minutes had elapsed so far and he was increasingly restless. Since he had no interest in the architectural beauties of Europe, the paintings that covered the walls held little charm for him. Holding his hat between his knees, he played nervously with the brim. It was left to Jacob to strike up a conversation.

'How is your son, Mr Bale?' he asked.

'Which one?' replied Jonathan. 'I have two.'

'His name is Richard, I think. He found the body in the ice.'

'Oh, yes. He did, alas, and the memory still haunts him.'

'Have you told him that a man has been arrested for the crime?'

'Yes,' said Jonathan, 'but Richard does not know his name. I see no reason why he should, unless the prisoner is convicted of the murder. The boy has been shocked enough already. He'd be even more upset if he realised that it was Mr Redmayne's own brother who is held in Newgate. That's why I kept it for him. Richard has great respect for your master.'

'Mr Redmayne speaks fondly of both your children.'