The Frost Fair

    Jonathan had him moved to a small private room so that he could talk to him in relative comfort. Maldini was pathetically grateful even though the constable had been the person who stopped him from achieving his objective. Stripped down to shirt and breeches, he cut a forlorn figure, the once handsome face disfigured by the broken nose, the neat black beard caked with wisps of straw. They sat either side of a bare wooden table. Jonathan explained who he was and why he had come. Maldini was in a daze. His command of English was good, his accent quite pronounced.

    'What will happen to me?' he asked.

    'You'll have to stand trial on a charge of attempted murder, sir,' said Jonathan. 'You tried to kill Mr Redmayne and we believe that you made two attempts to kill his brother as well.'

    'I had to do it. That man, he stabbed Jeronimo in the back. I want revenge.'

    'People are not allowed to take the law into their own hands in this country. In any case, you attacked the wrong people. There's growing evidence to suggest that Henry Redmayne is not guilty of the murder and his brother, of course, was not involved in any way. You might have killed two completely innocent men.'

    'No,' denied the other. 'Henry Redmayne, he stabbed my brother. Everyone say so. Jeronimo's friend, he told me it was true.'

    'His friend?'

    'Captain Harvest.'

    'Ah,' said Jonathan. 'I had a feeling that he might be involved somehow.'

    Speaking slowly, he told the prisoner how the soldier had been exposed as an impostor and how he was liable for arrest on a number of charges. Maldini listened with increasing discomfort. When he heard that the man was under suspicion for the murder as well, he was confused.

    'No,' he said, 'this cannot be. The captain, he was Jeronimo's friend.'

    'I know that he worked at the fencing school with your brother.'

    'It was more than that. Jeronimo, he told me this man was a great help to him.'

    'In what way, sir?'

    'He did not say. My brother and me, we did not speak often. Our lives, they were very different. But I still loved him,' he asserted. 'When I hear of his death, I have to get revenge. It's - what do you call it - a matter of honour?'

    'I see no honour at all in trying to throttle a man to death,' said Jonathan harshly, 'especially as he may well turn out to have nothing to do with this crime.'

    'But he did. He was there. He had an argument with Jeronimo.'

    'So did one or two other people, by the sound of it.'

    'I still think Henry Redmayne, he is the man. That's why I went in search of his brother. He stabbed my brother, I wanted to kill his.'

    'How did you know where to find Christopher Redmayne?'

    'I was told where he lived.'

    'By the same Captain Harvest, I daresay.' Maldini nodded. 'He deliberately set you on. That means he incited murder. We have another charge to hang around his neck.'

    'Jeronimo always trusted him.'

    'Enough to turn his back on the man. That was his mistake.'

    'This captain, he told me, was very useful to him. Jeronimo, he relied on him.'

    'At the fencing school?'

    'For something else. My brother, he did not tell me what it was. He liked to keep secrets. It was the same when we were boys at home in Italy. Jeronimo was very private.'

    'Yet he led a very public life,' said Jonathan, perplexed. 'How much privacy can you have if you spend all day teaching pupils to fence? Your brother was surrounded by people.' He pulled a face. 'Unfortunately, the captain was one of them.'

    'All I know is what Jeronimo tell me.'

    The Italian shrugged his shoulders. He looked thoroughly miserable. Though he did not condone what the man had done, Jonathan nevertheless felt sorry for him. Impelled by a desire to avenge the death of his brother, he had sacrificed his own life.

    'Did you meet any friends of his?' asked Jonathan.

    'No, sir.'

    'Did he ever mention Sir Humphrey Godden to you?'

    'No, sir.'

    'What about a Mr Crenlowe? He's a goldsmith.'

    'Ah,' said the other, 'that name I know. My brother, he say that this man make some jewellery for him. Mr Crenlowe. That was his name.'

    'Did your brother tell you who the jewellery was for?'

    Maldini gestured with a hand. 'Who else but for a lady?'

    Jonathan had the feeling that the man could provide valuable information about his brother but he was not certain that he was the best person to elicit it from him. Maldini needed more time to understand what was happening to him. He was still too bewildered by the turn of events. Jonathan leaned forward on the table.

    'We both want the same thing,' he said. 'We want your brother's killer to hang. You tried to do the hangman's job for him and that was a terrible mistake. You were wrong about Captain Harvest being a friend. He's a criminal. And you are wrong about Henry Redmayne as well.'

    'No,' protested Maldini, 'he is the one. Everybody knows it.'

    'Most people think it, I agree. Those of us who know Mr Redmayne, and who have looked into this case, are certain that he's innocent. I won't try to convince you of that. I can see that it would be a waste of time. However, tell me this. If - and I only ask you to consider it - if someone else stuck that knife in your brother's back, would you help us to catch him?'

    'Yes, of course. But the killer has already been arrested.'

    'On false evidence in my view,' said Jonathan. 'That's why his brother is moving heaven and earth to prove his innocence. You can understand that, I think. You know how it feels when you think a brother has been cruelly wronged.'

    'Oh, yes,' said the other, knuckles tightening. 'I would have done anything for Jeronimo.'

    'You've already done too much.'

    Maldini's head fell to his chest. Jonathan felt another surge of pity. The Italian was young, strong and lithe with a promising career as a musician ahead of him. All that had been squandered. Jonathan sought to relieve his suffering a little.

    'Where did you spend the night?' he said.

    'With a pack of wild animals,' replied Maldini, looking up. 'It was torture.'

    'I might be able to get you moved to a cell on your own. Would you like that?'

    'Yes, please! Those others, they drive me mad,'

    'I'll speak to the prison sergeant.'

    Maldini grabbed his arm. "Thank you, Mr Bale. Thank you, sir.'

    'But I expect a favour in return, mark you.'

    'A favour?'

    'I want you to talk to Christopher Redmayne.'

    Maldini withdrew his hand in disgust and spat on to the floor.

      The meeting with Lady Holcroft had been less enlightening than he had hoped but Christopher had the supreme consolation of spending an hour alone with Susan Cheever. At no point did she press him about his reason for a secret rendezvous with Lady Holcroft and he was grateful for that. She felt able to confide in him her worries that Mrs Cardinal was showing an interest in her as a possible future wife for her son and assuring him that, while she admired Jack Cardinal, she would never choose him as her partner in life. He was tempted to reveal his own dilemma with regard to Lady Whitcombe but he drew back, still hoping that he could resolve that particular problem.

    'What will I tell Mrs Cardinal when I get back to the house?' she asked.

    'Tell her that you and Lady Holcroft went for a ride in the coach.'