The Frost Fair

    'Why?'

    'They are very fulsome, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Are they signed?'

    'Only with an initial - 'M” '.

    'That stands for Lady Miriam Godden,' said Christopher, glancing through the first letter, 'and there's no doubt that she loved Signor Maldini, or she'd not have been so indiscreet as to write to him. If her husband learned about this secret romance, he'd have been enraged.'

    'It would certainly have given him a reason to go after Signor Maldini's blood.'

    'Let's go and speak to him, Jonathan,' said Christopher, pocketing the two letters. 'I've a strong feeling that Sir Humphrey Godden is our man.'

    Sir Humphrey Godden was grateful that his wife was not at home. It made it much easier to smuggle his unwanted guest into the house. At the top of the building was a small room that was used for storage. When he had stabled his horse, the former Captain Harvest was hustled upstairs to the room by his reluctant host.

    'You're to stay here and keep quiet,' ordered Sir Humphrey.

    'There's no mattress,' complained the other.

    'One of the servants will soon bring one. He'll also bring you food and drink.'

    'A manservant, eh?' said the other with a chuckle. 'I'd prefer to be looked after by a buxom chambermaid. It may get lonely up here.'

    'You'll get a hiding place and nothing else.' Sir Humphrey looked at him. 'By the way, I still have no idea what your real name is.'

    'I'd prefer to keep it that way. See me as an anonymous friend.'

    Sir Humphrey was about to make a tart riposte but thought better of it. After issuing further warnings, he left the room. His guest immediately began to rearrange his accommodation, shifting some wooden boxes into a corner and stacking some bolts of material on top of them. The servant arrived with a mattress and placed it against a wall. He stayed long enough to light a fire in the grate then withdrew to fetch some blankets. The erstwhile Captain Harvest took stock of his surroundings. When the fire had warmed the room up, it would be snug. More important, his refuge would be safe. While he was being looked for in the more insalubrious parts of the city, he was enjoying the hospitality of a house in the heart of Covent Garden. He grinned at his good fortune.

    Crossing to the window, he looked down into the street and watched the traffic go past. The grin then froze on his face. Two figures were walking purposefully towards the house. He could not believe that Christopher Redmayne and Jonathan Bale had tracked him so soon to his new lair. He had to get away at once.

        They stopped well short of the house so that they could appraise it. Christopher was armed with sword and dagger but Jonathan carried no weapon, relying instead on his strength and experience. Both were alert to the potential danger of accosting a man whom they believed had committed a murder.

    'When I confront him,' said Christopher, 'he may try to make a run for it. Go round to the back of the house, Jonathan, to cut off his escape.'

    'Give me time to get into position, Mr Redmayne.'

    'I will.'

    Jonathan set off. After marching past the house, he turned swiftly down the side of it towards the stables. Sir Humphrey's coach stood in the yard, its horses unhitched and returned to their stalls. But it was another animal that caught the constable's eye. Its head was poking out over the stable door and there was something about it that was familiar. Jonathan took a closer look at the horse, peering into the stall to take note of its colour and conformation. A saddle was resting on the edge the manger at the rear of the stall. He felt a shock of recognition. It was the horse that had once knocked him flying outside a tavern in Whitefriars.

    He heard a door open and shut at the back of the house. Dodging behind the coach, he crouched down and waited. Heavy footsteps came towards the stables. When Jonathan looked around the angle of the coach, he saw a big, solid, clean-shaven man in dark clothing that deceived him at first. But the man could not disguise everything. He still had the jaunty gait that Jonathan had noticed at their first encounter. It was the bogus Captain Harvest. When the man swaggered towards his horse, Jonathan leapt out and grabbed him from behind, trapping his arms against his sides.

    'You'll not be needing your horse now, sir,' he said.

    'Get off me!' yelled the other, struggling hard. 'Or I'll kill you!'

    Jonathan did not hesitate. Pushing him forward, he rammed the man's head against the wall of the stables. There was a loud crack and a cry of pain. Jonathan released him, spun him round then punched him hard in the stomach. When his prisoner doubled up in agony, Jonathan deftly relieved him of his sword and dagger. Blood was gushing from a wound in the man's forehead and he was panting for breath. The arrest was over.

        Sir Humphrey Godden was bristling with irritation when he came out into the hall. The news that Christopher Redmayne had called for the third time did not please him. He was anxious to get rid of him immediately.

    'I'm sorry, Mr Redmayne,' he said. 'I'm not able to speak to you today.'

    'I think you will when you hear why I've come, Sir Humphrey.'

    'There's nothing more that I can tell about what happened that night.'

    'But there is,' said Christopher. 'You've omitted the most important details. We've reason to believe that you were involved in the murder of Signor Maldini.'

    Sir Humphrey gaped. 'Me?'

    'With your accomplice.'

    'What accomplice?'

    'The man who claimed to be Captain James Harvest.'

    'That's preposterous!' exclaimed the other. 'It's a monstrous allegation. I'll sue you for slander, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Do you deny that you and the captain were confederates?'

    'In the strongest possible terms.'

    'You denied that you'd seen the man for some time,' Christopher reminded him, 'yet he came here yesterday to borrow money. Mr Crenlowe confirms it. Do you wish to sue him for slander as well?'

    'Get out of my house!' roared Sir Humphrey.

    'Not until we get the truth. My brother's life is at stake here. Henry could be hanged for a murder that you and your accomplice committed.'

    'I had no accomplice.'

    'Are you saying that you were solely responsible for the crime?'

    Sir Humphrey was defiant. 'I'm telling you that I'm being wrongly accused and, whatever Martin Crenlowe might say, I haven't set eyes on that impostor we all knew as Captain Harvest.' He flung open the front door. 'Now, please leave at once!'

    The words died in his throat. Standing in the open doorway was Jonathan Bale with his prisoner whose arms had been pinioned behind him. In spite of the blood on the man's face, Christopher recognised him as the counterfeit soldier.

    'I caught him sneaking out of the back of the house,' said Jonathan. 'I'll need to take him before a magistrate. Can you manage here, Mr Redmayne?'

    'Yes, Jonathan.' Christopher closed the door and turned to the red-faced Sir Humphrey. 'Perhaps we could discuss this elsewhere?' he suggested. 'Or do you still claim that your accomplice has never been near the house?'

    'Come this way,' said Sir Humphrey.

    He led Christopher into the parlour and shut the door after them. Exposed as a liar, he was much more subdued now. Christopher took the letters from his pocket.

    'We know about your wife,' he said.

    'What do you mean?'

    'That's what spurred you on, Sir Humphrey. When you discovered that Lady Godden was involved with Signor Maldini, you were consumed with hatred of the man.'