'My commission would therefore be a valuable one.'

'It would be the saving of me.'

'Once built, of course, my new house would be a fine advertis.e.m.e.nt for you.'

'To show your faith in me, in such circ.u.mstances, would be an even better advertis.e.m.e.nt for me. Even if Henry is released, it will take time for me to win back some lost credibility. An architect is only as good as his name and mine is rather sullied at the moment. I'm deeply grateful for the way that you've helped me, Lady Whitcombe.'

'You've helped us as well.'

'Havel?'

'Yes, Mr Redmayne,' she said quietly. 'When you came on the scene, Let.i.tia and I were very lonely. My husband had died and my son was in France for a lengthy period. There was no man in the house until you began to visit.' She touched his arm again. 'I'd like you to visit us more often in future. Will you do that for me?'

Christopher felt distinctly uneasy. Having feared that she was pushing her daughter at him in the hope that a romance might develop between them, he saw that the situation was far more threatening than that. It was Lady Whitcombe herself who had the real interest in him. In trying to involve him in her family she simply wanted him closer to her. Christopher saw the precariousness of his position. She was his only client at a time when the name of Redmayne was a serious handicap. To lose her commission would be to plunge him into a period of unemployment from which it would not be easy to escape. Lady Whitcombe was trying to exploit his vulnerability.

'Will you do that for me, Mr Redmayne?' she repeated, beaming at him.

'When the house is being built,' he said, 'we are bound to see a lot of each other.'

'Only as architect and client. I wish to see you as a friend - a close friend.'

Her fingers tightened on his arm. Christopher decided to play for time.

"Then you shall, Lady Whitcombe.'

'Good!' she said with a laugh of satisfaction. 'Now that we have sorted that out, perhaps we could take a look at the drawings again. I really do need your expert advice with regard to my bedchamber.'

Dinner at the house in the Strand was a sumptuous affair. Served in a room that was almost as large as a baronial hall, it was a veritable banquet. In addition to Lord and Lady Eames, there were sixteen people at a table that was laden with culinary delights. Those with appet.i.tes big enough could enjoy soups of various kind, a frica.s.see of rabbit and chicken, boiled mutton, carp, roast lamb, roasted pigeons, a lamprey pie, a platter of anchovies and a dish of four lobsters. Sweetmeats galore followed, the whole meal washed down with quality wines. Politics remained the chosen subject of debate.

Susan Cheever was at the opposite end of the table from Sir Ralph Holcroft and his wife. Seated next to Jack Cardinal, she engaged in polite conversation while trying to catch the eye of Lady Holcroft. Susan was studiously ignored. It intensified her sense of failure and she did not look forward to reporting it to Christopher. Her neighbour saw how little food she touched.

'Is that all you want, Miss Cheever?' he asked.

'I'm not hungry.'

'A magnificent feast like this makes one feel hungry. It's irresistible.'

"Then you can eat my share as well, Mr Cardinal,' she offered.

'Thank you. How long will you be staying in Richmond?'

'Until my father returns.'

'In the meantime, you must visit us,' he said, coupling the invitation with a cordial smile. 'Your sister tells me that you are a fine horsewoman. Perhaps we could ride out together.'

'When the weather improves,' she said, one eye still on Lady Holcroft. 'I do enjoy riding, Mr Cardinal. I much prefer it to travelling by coach.'

'That's something else on which we agree. Unfortunately, Mother can only get around on four wheels so, naturally, I have to make allowances for her. But there's nothing nicer than a ride to whet one's appet.i.te before breakfast.'

'Your appet.i.te seems to have be whetted today.'

'No,' he said with a guilty chuckle, looking at the food piled on his plate. 'This is not appet.i.te, Miss Cheever. It's sheer greed.'

'I did not take you for a greedy man.'

'Why else do you think I sat next to you?'

The compliment was blurted out so quickly that he felt slightly embarra.s.sed about it and turned away. Susan glanced down the table. Lady Holcroft was listening to an anecdote from her host and laughing obligingly. All that Susan could see was the back of her head. Cardinal looked past her.

'Sir Ralph Holcroft is a fortunate man,' he observed. 'His wife is a perfect example of the trappings of power. Lesser beings would not get near her.'

'You make her sound very calculating, Mr Cardinal.'

'Far from it. I think the calculation was on her husband's part.'

'Does it not encourage you to go into politics?'

'No, Miss Cheever. I'd be bored within a week. I'm very happy with my life as it is. Power and position are such temporary things. They rest on so many imponderables. I'm old enough to remember a time when we had no King on the throne. What happened to those who held sway then'

'Do not put that question to my father,' she cautioned. 'His answer is apt to be rather trenchant. He'd not approve of his daughter, sitting at such a table as this.'

'I cannot imagine disapproving of you, whatever you did.'

The compliment went unheard. Susan had noticed that Lady Holcroft had just excused herself from the table. As she walked past, she deliberately looked at Susan before moving on. The signal was unmistakable. After waiting a full minute, Susan made her apologies and rose to leave. She found Lady Holcroft waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase. Susan hurried over to her.

'Where is that letter?' asked the other.

'In my room,' said Susan. 'Shall I fetch it, Lady Holcroft?'

'I'll come with you.'

They went upstairs together and slipped into the bedchamber at the end of the pa.s.sageway. Susan retrieved the letter from the valise in which she had concealed it then handed it over. She moved towards the door.

'Wait,' said Lady Holcroft. 'There's no need to leave.'

'I don't wish to intrude.'

'Please stay, Miss Cheever.'

Turning away so that Susan could not see her face, she broke the seal and read the letter. Susan watched her shoulders tighten. Evidently, it was a long missive that provoked serious thought. It was some time before Lady Holcroft faced her again. When she did so, her expression gave nothing away.

'What sort of man is Mr Christopher Redmayne?' she asked.

Christopher had never before been so relieved to see his servant. When Jacob returned to the house, bowed down with produce from the market, Lady Whitcombe was poring over the table with her master as they studied the design for her house. Christopher broke away at once, glad to escape from the rub of her shoulder against his and to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that he was, in some sense, a victim of intended blackmail. Lady Whitcombe was quite ruthless. Having commissioned a new home, she decided to acquire the architect as well. Jacob's return made further progress impossible for her and she soon withdrew, confident that she had achieved her objective.

It was not long before the Reverend Algernon Redmayne came back from his second visit to the prison. Over dinner together, he told Christopher how ill and forlorn his elder son had looked. Henry had been perplexed to hear of the latest a.s.sault on his brother and sent his deepest apologies. What pleased the Dean was that the prisoner seemed to be showing genuine remorse at last. He was taking responsibility for his actions and vowed to make amends if the chance were granted to him. It had obviously been a harrowing encounter for father and son, but the old man left with a degree of hope. Acknowledgement of sin was the first step towards redemption. His elder son, he felt, had finally taken that step.

Christopher intended to visit his brother as well but he had another call to make first. Wearing sword and dagger, he rode off in the direction of Sir Humphrey G.o.dden's home to see if his own impression of the man matched that of Jonathan Bale. He got within thirty yards of the house when two figures emerged and had what appeared to be a lively argument. Sir Humphrey was gesticulating angrily and Martin Crenlowe was wagging a finger at him. At length, the goldsmith raised his palms to calm his friend then backed away. Christopher waited in the angle of a building so that Crenlowe did not see him as his carriage rolled past.

Sir Humphrey, too, was dressed to go out. Before he could walk off in the opposite direction, Christopher trotted up beside him and leaned over in the saddle.

'Good afternoon, Sir Humphrey!' he said, touching his hat.

'Ah, it's you,' grunted the other, coming to a halt.

'May I have a moment of your time?'

'If it really is a moment, Mr Redmayne.'

'I saw you talking to Mr Crenlowe just now,' remarked Christopher, dismounting from the horse. 'I thought the two of you were good friends.'

'We are, sir.'

'It did not look like it from where I was standing.'

'A slight difference of opinion, that's all,' said Sir Humphrey. 'When we meet again, it will all be forgiven and forgotten.'

'Which one of you has to forgive and forget?' He collected a glare by way of an answer. 'I gather that my friend, Jonathan Bale, called on you again.'

'Yes, Mr Redmayne. Is there any way that you can keep the fellow away from me? I find him the most unpleasant individual. He's so grim and tenacious.'

'He takes his work very seriously.'

"There's nothing more I can tell him.' His manner softened slightly. 'I was sorry to hear that you'd been attacked beside the river,' he said. 'Do you have any idea who the man was?'

'No, Sir Humphrey, but he was not content with giving me a dip in the Thames. If my guess is correct, he came back yesterday and attacked me with a cudgel. I still have the bruises to show for it.'

'Two a.s.saults on you? Why?'

'To stop me finding out the truth about the murder.'

'You think that he was the killer?'

'I did, Sir Humphrey, but I'm not so sure now.' He appraised the other man. 'You look as if you are off on a pleasant afternoon stroll,' he observed. 'n.o.body would suspect that one of your friends was rotting in Newgate on a charge of murder.'

'A false charge, Mr Redmayne.'

'It feels authentic enough to Henry. Why not go and ask him?'

'That's what Martin was saying to me. He may have been but I see no virtue in going to a prison. Henry knows that I'll back him. I stand by my friends.'

'Does that go for Captain Harvest as well?' He saw the other man tense. 'Jonathan must have told you how he ripped the mask off him. That's the value of being grim and tenacious, Sir Humphrey. You sniff out fraud. How much money did you give to your friend?'

'Nothing, sir.'

'Mr Crenlowe was certain that he'd come cap-in-hand to you first.'

'I've seen no sign of James - or whatever his name is.'

'Would you have told me, if you had?'

'No,' snapped Sir Humphrey. 'It's no business of yours.'

'It is if your friend was implicated in the murder of Signor Maldini.'

"That's an absurd notion.'

'Mr Crenlowe shares it. Is that what the two of you were arguing about?'

'No!'

'Or was he reproaching you for lending money to a proven impostor?'

'What Martin and I said is a matter between the two of us.' He made an effort to rein in his temper. 'Listen, Mr Redmayne. I admire you for what you are doing and I'll be the first to congratulate Henry when this ridiculous charge is finally exposed for what it is. Beyond that, there's nothing I can do.'

'You might try telling the truth, Sir Humphrey.'

'That's an insult!'

'It was not meant to be,' said Christopher. 'It's a heartfelt plea for information that can lead us to the man who did kill the fencing master. You may choose to absolve the man known as Captain Harvest but I'd not dispense with him so easily. He has much to answer for, Sir Humphrey. Where can we find him?'

'How should I know?'

'Because you are the person to whom he's likely to turn.'

'Well, he did not!' rejoined the other, reddening visibly. 'Do you and Mr Bale not understand the English language? James - Captain Harvest -call him what you will - has not been anywhere near me. Now, you can either believe me or not.'

After looking him full in the eye, Christopher mounted his horse again.

'I think that I prefer to believe Jonathan Bale,' he said.

A return to the Hope and Anchor, and a second visit to the tenement, had both been in vain. Hannah Liggett was not in the former and had not been seen in the latter since the previous day. Jonathan had once again taken the precaution of shedding the attire he wore as a constable. Dressed as a shipwright and walking beside the river, he felt the pull of his old trade. It had been laborious work but it had brought in a regular wage and was fraught with none of the hazards he met as a humble constable. The moments he had savoured most were when the ships he had helped to build were finally launched into service. Even those occasions, however, rewarding as they were, did not give him the intense satisfaction he got from arresting a dangerous criminal.

After eating a frugal dinner in an ordinary, he trudged back along Thames Street. What he expected to glean from a visit to the prison, he did not know but he felt that he should at least try to speak to Henry Redmayne. He also wanted to find out how the man had coped with imprisonment. That could be telling. When he got to Newgate, he reported to the prison sergeant who recognised him at once.

'What's this, Jonathan?' he said, looking at his clothing. 'A constable no more?'

'I'm an officer of the law, whatever I wear.'

'Who have you brought for us today?'

'n.o.body, Isaac,' said Jonathan. 'I've come to visit a prisoner. Henry Redmayne.'

'Mr Redmayne, eh?' The sergeant checked his ledger. 'He's a popular man.'

'What do you mean?'

'You're the third visitor today. His father was here this morning, a reverend gentleman with an air of holiness about him. The other man has just gone to him.'