The Parliament House

    He soon saw his opportunity. An alleyway zigzagged off to the left, too narrow for coaches, too dark and uninviting for most passers-by. Crossing the road, Christopher turned into the alleyway and lengthened his stride. He was going around the first bend when he heard footsteps scurrying behind him. The ruse had worked. Following the next twist in the lane, he stopped abruptly and flattened himself against the wall. Hurried footsteps now broke into a run.

    Sword drawn, Christopher was ready for him. As the man came running around the bend, the architect stuck out a leg and tripped him up, sending him headfirst into the accumulated refuse on the ground. The man let out a roar of anger and tried to reach for the dagger that had been dashed from his grasp as he hit the hard stone. Christopher’s foot jabbed down on his wrist and he used his sword to flick the dagger out of reach. The point of his weapon also deprived the fallen man of his hat so that he could have a proper look at him. When his would-be attacker attempted to get up, Christopher held his sword at the man's throat.

    'Who sent you?' he demanded.

    'Nobody, sir,' replied the man, feigning innocence.

    'Then why were you watching my house?'

    'What house?'

    'You were hired to kill me,' said Christopher, pricking his neck so that blood trickled down. 'I've every right to kill you in self- defence and that's exactly what I will do if I do not get honest answers.'

    'I'm a thief,' pleaded the other. 'I was only after your purse.'

    'Yes - when you'd slit my throat. Were you the villain who murdered Dan Crothers?' The man started guiltily. 'Yes, I thought that you might be. So you have two crimes to answer at least.'

    Close to desperation, the man began to burble excuses. His eyes darted everywhere. He was about Christopher's own age with a craggy face and long curly hair. Seeing that there was no escape, he appeared to give in. His head hung in shame.

    'I do confess it, sir. I did cut the meat porter's throat.'

    'Who paid you?'

    'A certain lord, sir. He did not give his name.'

    'I think he did,' said Christopher, 'but you are obviously not going to give it to me. I'll take you somewhere where you can be interrogated by people who know how to get the truth out of criminals.' The man glanced downwards. 'Leave the dagger here.'

    All I want is my hat, sir,' said the other. 'May I?'

    Christopher relented. Standing back, he allowed him to stoop down to retrieve his hat. Instead of putting it on his head, however, the man put his hand around the crown and squeezed it tight so that he could grab Christopher's blade without risking injury. At the same time, he leapt up and swung a vicious kick at his groin. Had it connected, Christopher would have been badly hurt but he managed to jump back in time. It was all the leeway that his prisoner needed. Leaving go of the sword, he dropped the hat to the ground and sprinted off down the alleyway. Christopher went after him but he soon abandoned the pursuit. The man had outrun him.

       'How did you find him, Susan?' asked her sister.

    'Very low.'

    'Did you apologise on my behalf?'

    'Lancelot did that,' said Susan. 'Father understood. He was very embarrassed that we should see him in such a condition. To have you there would only have added to his grief.'

    'What did he say? How can we help him?'

    When they returned from their visit to the Tower, Susan and her brother-in-law were disconsolate. Brilliana was desperate for hopeful news but there was none to give her.

    'Under the circumstances,' said Serle, 'your father is bearing up remarkably well but, then, Sir Julius has always been resilient.'

    'Were you able to offer him any succour?' said his wife.

    'Very little beyond a promise to engage a shrewd lawyer to plead his case. His defence will be that was deliberately incited by that lampoon. The Earl of Stoneleigh tricked him into it.'

    'Why?'

    'Father is a stern critic of all that he stands for,' said Susan. 'The earl is in the Upper House but he has a large following in the Commons. They would all be happy to intrigue against Father.'

    'That's outrageous!' said Brilliana.

    'That's political life, my dear,' her husband pointed out.

    'Then I'm not at all sure that you should enter it, Lancelot. You have too much integrity for such a world. I could not bear the thought that you would be a party to such conspiracies.'

    'Treachery is foreign to my character.'

    'Then you are too good for parliament.'

    'I disagree,' said Susan. 'Goodness is exactly what the place needs. That's why Father was such a breath of fresh air in the chamber and why others flocked to him. He was seen as a good man.'

    'And reviled by the bad ones.'

    'They hold the reins of power, Brilliana, and some of them have been determined to bring Father down. They finally succeeded.'

    'Yes, Susan.'

    'Do not admit defeat yet,' said Serle, firmly. 'If the plot is fully uncovered, Sir Julius will have to be set free. Christopher will be working hard to effect that.'

    'Yet it was he who acted as a second at the duel,' recalled Susan, bitterly. 'He took part in the event that landed Father in the Tower. And he was not the only member of his family to do so.'

    'What do you mean?' asked Brilliana.

    'Sir Julius could not be certain,' said Serle, 'but he had a strong impression that one of the earl's seconds at the duel was none other than Henry Redmayne. I find that astonishing. The man who came here to warn your father about that disgraceful play then turns up to assist its author. It's beyond belief.'

    Brilliana was simmering. 'It's a betrayal,' she said, mind racing. 'A vile and unforgivable betrayal.'

       After his confrontation with the man sent to kill him, Christopher went back to Fetter Lane to collect his horse, then he rode to Addle Hill to see Jonathan Bale. The constable was alarmed by the report.

    'You took too great a risk, Mr Redmayne,' he said.

    'I was determined to find out who he was.'

    'Yes, but he may not have been acting alone. Granted, he kept watch on your house. But, for all you knew, he might have had a confederate loitering nearby. Two attackers would have given you much more of a problem.'

    'I agree,' said Christopher. 'I could not even hold on to one.'

    'You disarmed him, that was the main thing.'

    'Could we trace the owner of the dagger somehow?'

    They were in the kitchen of Bale's house and the constable was holding the weapon that Christopher had recovered from the alleyway. It was a long-bladed dagger with a carved handle.

    'There's nothing distinctive about this, sir,' said Bale. 'I've seen a dozen that are identical.'

    'Not quite, Jonathan. In one respect, that dagger is unique.'

    'Unique?'

    'It slit the throat of Dan Crothers.'

    'Did he confess that?'

    'Loud and clear.'

    'And he intended to do the same to you.'

    'I did not give him the opportunity,' said Christopher. 'Is it worth trying to find out where that dagger was made and sold?'

    Bale returned it to him. 'It would take far too long,' he said, 'and we might never get the name that we seek. The weapon could have been stolen, or passed on to him by someone else. No, the dagger will not help us, alas. It's a pity he left no other clue behind.'

    'But he did.'

    'And what was that?'