The Frost Fair

    'This is blackmail!' he hissed.

    'A week is all I ask, Sir Humphrey. Then I'll be gone for good.'

    Sir Humphrey began to weaken. 'My wife must not even know that you're there.'

    'I'll be as quiet as a mouse. Lock me in the cellar, if need be.'

    'Amid my wine and brandy?' said the other. 'I'm not that stupid.'

    'My horse is nearby. Shall I follow you back to Covent Garden?'

    'Can you not leave it until after dark?'

    'No, I need a refuge now.'

    Sir Humphrey was trapped. An enjoyable visit to the coffee house had been ruined by a face from the past but he was not in a position to ignore it completely. There was an obligation that could be held over him. He opened the door of his coach as he thought through the implications of the request. With one foot on the step, he turned round and spoke in a grudging voice.

    'I'll do it,' he said, 'but let me get to the house well before you do.'

        Henry Redmayne was outraged by what he saw as a filial betrayal. When Christopher explained what he had done, Henry took his brother by the shoulders and shook him hard.

    'That man tried to throttle me!' he yelled.

    'I still have the bruises from his cudgel.'

    'Then why did you not avenge the pair of us? I'd have torn the rogue apart.'

    'What would that have achieved?' asked Christopher.

    'It would have given me profound satisfaction.'

    'No, Henry, it would have ensured that you'd have an appointment with the hangman, after all. You were imprisoned for a crime you did not commit. Only a fool would then try to kill someone within the confines of the prison. Pietro Maldini did that,' he pointed out, 'and look where he has ended up.'

    'Enjoying a pleasant chat with my brother.'

    'There was nothing pleasant about it for either of us.'

    Christopher calmed him down and explained in detail what had happened. When he realised that his brother had been searching for information that might lead to his release, Henry was apologetic. He was also angered by the news that his rival had bought some expensive jewellery for a married woman.

    'It had to be for Patience,' he decided. 'He commissioned it for her.'

    'The name begins with 'M' and that rules Lady Holcroft out.'

    'But she adored jewels of all kind, Christopher. They were her real joy in life. Patience deserved to be covered in diamonds and rubies. I asked Martin Crenlowe to fashion a brooch for me but, before I could give it to her, Patience was taken away from me by that fiend of an Italian.'

    Christopher loved his brother too much to disabuse him of his illusion. Having heard Lady Holcroft's account of their friendship, he resolved never to mention to Henry that he had ever met her. It would be too cruel. Henry was better left to his fantasies.

    'I feel that we have an important clue in our hands,' said Christopher. 'All that we have to do is to identify the woman and it was not, I'm certain, Lady Holcroft. Think of the letter 'M". Find me a wife called Mary, Margaret or Mildred.'

    'I know of none, Christopher.'

    'Rack your brains.'

    'They have already been racked too hard.'

    'Which of your friends has a wife called Maria?'

    'None of them,' said Henry. He thought hard. 'But I know a Miriam,' he recalled.

    'Is she young and beautiful?'

    'Very young and exceedingly beautiful.'

    'Yet she's a married lady?' Henry nodded. 'Excellent. Who is her husband?'

    'Sir Humphrey Godden.'

      Jonathan Bale was rarely excited. His was a more phlegmatic temperament. When he made his discovery at the fencing master's lodging, however, he was thrilled. He walked back to the house in Fetter Lane to report his findings. Christopher Redmayne was not there but Jacob introduced him to the Dean of Gloucester instead. Jonathan received warm congratulation and stern reproof at the same time. While the old man thanked him for his courage in tackling Henry's would-be assassin, he also felt obliged to attest the spiritual superiority of the Anglican Church and to condemn those who dared to question the validity of its tenets. The constable weathered the storm with some difficulty and was glad when the Dean retired to his bedchamber with his Bible.

    Christopher arrived back soon afterwards. Jonathan could see that he, too, was in a state of excitement. The architect explained why. Though highly uncomfortable, the talk with Pietro Maldini had been very worthwhile. Christopher felt that a significant connection had been made.

    'If that jewellery was intended for Sir Humphrey Godden's wife, we have a motive for murder,' he argued. 'Sir Humphrey must have learned of his wife's infidelity and sought revenge. He engaged the false Captain Harvest as his accomplice.'

    'What shall we do, Mr Redmayne?'

    'Challenge him at once.'

    'Wait until you've heard my news,' said Jonathan, taking the ledger and the papers from under his arm. 'We are dealing with far more than a case of murder, sir.' He handed a sheet of paper to Christopher. 'Do you recognise any of those names?'

    Christopher was jolted when he saw that the first name on the list was that of Sir Peregrine Whitcombe. Beneath that was the name of Sir Ralph Holcroft. Of the other seven on the list, he recognised most as senior members of the government. He reached the same conclusion as Jonathan.

    'Signor Maldini was a spy,' he declared, remembering what Lady Holcroft had told him. 'He deliberately courted ladies who were married to leading politicians. While he was pleasuring them, he was also asking them about their husbands.' An image of Lady Whitcombe came into his mind. 'Yet I cannot think he was involved in that way with Sir Peregrine's wife.'

    'He did not need to be,' said Jonathan, giving him some letters. 'His was the one name that I knew because Jacob told me you were designing a house for his widow. As you see, Sir Peregrine is number one. That means he wrote those letters.'

    Christopher leafed through them, staggered by what he saw. Information about the country's naval and military defences was set out in neat columns. There were also reports of meetings of the Privy Council. His head reeled. He was being employed by a woman whose late husband had betrayed his country.

    'Sir Peregrine was paid for his intelligence,' said Jonathan, holding the ledger up. 'Here's proof of it. Payments to number one are listed at the back. The man was a traitor, Mr Redmayne. He died before he could be caught.'

    'We cannot pursue him beyond the grave,' said Christopher.

    'And I'm certain that Lady Whitcombe knew nothing of this. She'd not be so proud of her husband's reputation if she had.' He took the ledger from Jonathan. 'Well, you've opened a door to Hell with this discovery. Did someone find out that Signor Maldini was a spy?' he wondered. 'Is that why he was killed?'

    'It could be, Mr Redmayne.'

    'How was he unmasked? No wife would dare to admit to her husband that she had been seduced by a foreign spy. That's why the arrangement was so clever.'

    Jonathan gave a disapproving frown. 'I see nothing clever in seduction, sir.'

    'When he had found out what he wanted to know, he abandoned one lady and moved on to the next. He knew that none of them would ever betray him. Although,' he added, as the words of Pietro Maldini came back to him, 'that's what happened to him in the end. A certain lady betrayed the spy by making him fall in love with her.'

    'She wrote these letters,' said Jonathan, handing over the last two items he had found in the desk. 'I felt embarrassed at reading them.'