'Why did the three of you go to him in the first place?'

'Because of his reputation. He was a brilliant swordsman.'

'With a rapier?'

'With any weapon that man could devise. I've seen him use broadsword, rapier, Toledo, spontoon and backsword with equal proficiency.'

'What of Mr Redmayne? How proficient was he?'

'Henry was the best of the three of us, no question of that. We live in a dangerous city, Mr Bale, as you well know. Wise men learn how defend themselves. Henry was more than capable with sword and dagger.'

'Dagger?' said Jonathan pointedly.

'I was speaking about practice bouts at the fencing school.'

'But he knew how to use the weapon?'

'We all do, Mr Bale.'

'Not as well as Henry Redmayne, it seems.'

Crenlowe angered. 'I can see that you've not been listening to me,' he said with asperity. 'You claim to seek the truth but your mind remains obstinately closed to it. No more of it, sir. I resent the time you've taken up and I must ask you to leave.'

'There's one more question I have to put.'

'Good day to you, Mr Bale.'

'If Mr Redmayne is innocent, then someone else must be guilty of the crime.'

'So?'

'Is it conceivable that the killer could be Captain Harvest?'

Crenlowe was taken aback. He was obviously surprised by the suggestion and needed some time to a.s.sess its value. Jonathan could see his brain working away. The goldsmith was uncertain at first but the expression on his face slowly changed.

'Yes,' he concluded. 'I suppose that it is.'

Captain Harvest had a gift for being at ease in any surroundings. Whether mixing with aristocracy or consorting with the lower orders, he felt completely at home. He was also quick to make new friends, mastering their names with disarming speed and finding a way to be on familiar terms without causing the slightest offence. The three men with whom he was playing cards had been total strangers to him an hour earlier but Harvest chatted to them as if had known them for years. They sat around a table in the corner of the tavern, drinking beer and using a large candle to illumine their game. The Hope and Anchor was not the most salubrious inn along the riverbank. In the main, it catered for sailors, watermen, lightermen and others who earned their living from the Thames. The atmosphere was rowdy, the air charged with pipe tobacco. Wagers were only small but they mounted up as the evening progressed. Hitting a rich vein of luck, Harvest scooped the winnings time and again but he was generous with his gains. The beer that he bought for his companions kept them at the table to lose even more to him. Eventually, their purses could withstand no more a.s.saults by the soldier and so they peeled away. Their place at the table was immediately taken by someone else.

'Captain Harvest, I believe,' said Christopher Redmayne.

'At your service, sir,' replied the other. 'How did you know my name?'

'You are not difficult to recognise.'

Harvest peered at him. 'Nor are you, my friend, unless I'm deceived. I see a distinct family likeness to a certain gentleman who is at present domiciled in Newgate prison. Am I right, Mr Redmayne?'

'You are, indeed. I'm Henry's brother, Christopher.'

"Then you've obviously not come to play cards with me.'

'I've been warned against that.'

'Rightly so,' said Harvest with a chuckle. 'Well, sir, I can guess why you are looking for me. I'm also mightily impressed that you found me. For a whole host of reasons, I like to cover my tracks.'

'Jonathan Bale discovered that.'

'Ah, yes. The earnest constable.'

'He gave me a list of your haunts. One led on to another.'

'You've been a veritable bloodhound, Mr Redmayne.'

'Mr Bale told me that I would have to be,' said Christopher, realising how exact his friend's description of the captain had been. 'He spoke with your landlord today. It seems that you quit your lodgings and forgot to pay your rent.'

'That oversight will soon be repaired,' promised Harvest, tapping his purse. 'One good day with pack of cards can make all the difference.' He moved the candle nearer to Christopher so that it lit up his face. 'Yes, there's a definite likeness but it's not strong. You look so much healthier than your brother. Henry boasted about you from time to time. An architect, I hear.'

'True.'

'An honourable profession. Unlike the one that your brother follows.'

'He does valuable work at the Navy Office.'

'On the rare occasions when he actually goes there. It's no wonder that the Dutch surprised us in the Medway if the fate of our navy is in the hands of people like Henry Redmayne.' He gave a snort of disgust. "Thank Heaven that we have an army!'

'You fought against the Dutch?'

'That's how I earned my commission.'

"Then I'm surprised you do not choose a tavern frequented by soldiers,' said Christopher, glancing round. 'If you have such a low opinion of the navy, why do you come to the Hope and Anchor?'

'I told you, Mr Redmayne. I like to cover my tracks.' 'Are you hiding from someone?'

'Only my creditors.'

'Mr Bale tells me that you are denouncing my brother at every opportunity.'

'It's my bounden duty to expose him for the brutal killer that he is.'

'Did you witness the murder, Captain Harvest?'

'Not with my own eyes.'

"Then how can you be so certain that my brother is the culprit?'

'Call it a soldier's instinct.'

'I'd prefer to call it an unfair and over-hasty judgement.'

'Henry left that tavern with one thing on his mind, Mr Redmayne. I know when a man is about to kill. He'd spent the whole evening working himself up to it.'

'Yet you did nothing to stop him?'

Harvest spread his arms. 'What could I do?'

'Prevail upon him to see sense,' said Christopher. 'Made sure that he went home afterwards or, at the very least, stayed with him to calm him down.'

'Calm him down? He was well beyond that. Besides, I had somewhere else to go.'

'Signor Maldini was your friend. Did you not try to warn him?'

'Of what?'

'My brother's intentions.'

'It was Henry that I warned. Even when he was sober, he was no match for Jeronimo. What chance did he stand against him when he was drunk?'

'In other words, you let my brother go in the belief that he would be the one to suffer in any duel. You've a strange idea of friendship,' said Christopher with sudden pa.s.sion. 'You sup with my brother yet you do nothing to prevent him from engaging in a brawl that could well lead to his death.'

'Henry was never a real friend.'

'So you deliberately sent him off after Signor Maldini?'

'It was no concern of mine. I had somewhere else to go.'

Christopher was scornful. 'Yes, Captain Harvest. I'm sure that you did. No doubt you had to cover your tracks.'

'You are beginning to annoy me, sir,' said the other, bristling.

'Then I have something in common with my brother, after all.' 'Rather too much, for my liking.'

'Why did you despise him so much?'

'Henry?' said the other, playing with his beard. 'Chiefly, because of the way that he treated other people. He was cold and patronising. I've learned to love my fellow men. Henry loathed them, unless they could carouse with him through the night. Look at those closest to him,' he sneered. 'Martin Crenlowe and Sir Humphrey G.o.dden, each as supercilious as the other. What right had they to look down on Jeronimo Maldini? Yet they treated him like dirt. Sir Humphrey was the worst. He hates foreigners. He was happy enough to take lessons from Jeronimo because he thought he might learn something, even though he believed that, as an Italian, the man was beneath contempt.'

Christopher nodded. 'I've heard Sir Humphrey's views on foreigners.'

'Martin Crenlowe shares them.'

'I found him the more amenable of the two.'

'Neither of them would earn my admiration.'

'Yet you were ready to spend time with them and with my brother.'

Harvest gave an elaborate shrug. 'One has to eat.'

'Who paid for your meal that evening, Captain Harvest?'

'What does it matter,' said the other with a wolfish grin, 'as long as I did not have the inconvenience of doing it myself?'

The man was shameless. Christopher could see how he had ingratiated himself with Henry and the others. Captain Harvest had a devil-may-care charm that would have had a surface appeal to men bent on pleasure. The soldier was urbane and quick-witted. Most of those whose friendship he courted would not even realise that he was an amiable parasite. Yet he was loyal to the people he really cared about. Christopher felt obliged to approve of that.

'Tell me about Signor Maldini,' he said.

'Why?'

'Because n.o.body else had a good word to say for him.'

"Then you've been talking to the wrong people,' said Harvest. 'Most of his pupils at the fencing school worshipped him. Jeronimo was supreme at his trade.'

'Is that why you liked him?'

'No, Mr Redmayne. It was because I sensed that we were two of a kind, men who had not been blessed at birth and who therefore had to make their own way in the world. I know what it is to live in a foreign country where most people turn instinctively away from you. That's what it was like for Jeronimo at first,' he said. 'But he worked hard to master the language and soon began to win people over.'

'Some people.'

'Your brother and his friends were always beyond his reach.'

'He loaned you money, I understand.'

'He did more than that,' replied Harvest. 'He gave it to me out of love.'

'Could he afford to be so generous?'

'He ran the most popular fencing school in the city, Mr Redmayne. That's why he employed me as his a.s.sistant. There were too many pupils. Jeronimo was never short of funds, in spite of his weakness.'

'Weakness?'

'He was an Italian. He adored women.'

'I gathered that.'

'Romance costs money,' said Harvest, 'and he had many romances.'

'There's only one that interests me. According to my brother, a certain lady was the real cause of the rift between him and his fencing master.'

'You do not need to tell me that.'

'What did Signor Maldini do?'

'He took pity on her, Mr Redmayne. He rescued her from Henry's clutches.'

'That's not how my brother describes the situation.'

Harvest laughed aloud. 'You surprise me!'

'Did your friend confide in you?'