The Parliament House

    'We came about this, sir,' he said.

    'A complaint about my beer?' Howlett gave a nervous laugh. 'I've never had that before.'

    'It's not the beer we complain about,' said Christopher, taking a piece of paper from his pocket. 'It's the handwriting.' He thrust the paper under Howlett's nose. 'It matches this exactly.'

    'I never wrote that!' exclaimed the other.

    'Yes, you did. They were your instructions to Dan Crothers and they sent him off on a murderous mission. When he failed to kill Sir Julius Cheever, you had his throat cut in Old Street.' Christopher took out the dagger he had taken from his attacker. 'We even have the weapon that committed the crime. It belongs to one of your men, Mr Howlett. Perhaps you'd be kind enough to point him out.'

    'I've no idea what you are talking about, Mr Redmayne,' said Howlett, indignantly. 'You are trespassing on my property and I must ask you to leave at once.'

    'We will, sir,' said Bale. 'When I've served you with this warrant for your arrest. First, however, oblige Mr Redmayne, if you will.'

    'Pick out the man you sent to kill me today,' said Christopher, taking out his sword. 'I'd like to renew my acquaintance with him.'

    Howlett gave up all pretence of innocence. He knew that he was trapped but his accomplice might yet escape. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he yelled at the top of his voice.

    'Run, Sam!' he called. 'Get away while you can!'

    A figure emerged from behind one of the huge vats and raced off through the brewery. Seeing that it was his attacker, Christopher went after him, dodging round the various people and obstacles in his way. As before, the man had too much of a start and a far greater knowledge of the geography of the place. After leading his pursuer on a circuitous route, he darted through a door at the rear of the building and slammed it shut behind him. Christopher feared that he had lost him for the second time. When he opened the door, however, he had a most pleasant surprise.

    The man he had chased was lying flat on his back with blood gushing from his nose. Standing over him with a grin of triumph was Patrick McCoy.

    'I knew you'd come to the brewery, sir,' he said. 'I waited here because I thought someone might try to escape through the back.' He grabbed the fallen man by the collar and lifted him without effort to his feet. 'Here he is, sir. I just wanted to help.'

       Susan Cheever was both disturbed and impressed with what her sister had done. When she came back to the house, Brilliana was glowing with satisfaction. Her husband was aghast but Susan had a grudging admiration.

    'You scolded Henry to his face?' she said.

    'I told him exactly what I thought of him, Susan.'

    'Why did you not tell me you were going there?' asked Serle. 'The very least I could have done was to accompany you.'

    'It was something I needed to do alone, Lancelot, and it was all the more effective as a result. I accused him of betraying our family in the most atrocious way and told him how much I despised him.'

    'That will have curbed his amorous intentions,' said Susan under her breath. She spoke up. 'What did Henry say?'

    'I gave him no chance to say anything.'

    'Not even an apology?'

    'What use is an apology that was bound to be insincere?'

    'The strange thing is that you liked him at first, Brilliana.'

    'I did,' said her sister. 'I was taken in by his dazzling manner. Then I learned the truth. Henry Redmayne is like that painting he has hanging in his hall - arresting at first sight but, when you look more closely, ineffably sordid.'

    'Oh, I'm so glad that you say that, my dear,' said Serle. 'You have described him perfectly. There's a lesson in this for you, Susan. Having seen how both brothers have let us down, I hope you'll no longer seek a closer relationship with the Redmayne family.'

    'I'll oppose it with every fibre of my being,' affirmed Brilliana.

    'It's highly unlikely that there is anything to oppose,' said Susan with regret. 'Christopher and I have drifted apart. However,' she continued, remembering his vow to her, 'we must not lose all our faith in him. Nobody will try harder to save Father's life.'

    'What can he possibly do?'

    'You'll be able to ask him,' said Serle, looking through the window as a horseman approached the house. 'Unless my eyesight deceives me, Christopher is outside.'

    Susan rushed to the window. 'Where?' She saw him dismount. 'Yes, that's him. He must have news.'

    She went into the hall and opened the front door to greet him. Susan was unable to disguise her pleasure in seeing him again.

    When she brought him into the parlour, Christopher was smiling.

    'I don't know what you have to smile about,' said Brilliana, tartly. 'As far as I'm concerned, you are little better than your snake of a brother.'

    'I'm sorry you think that, Mrs Serle,' he said. 'I've just come from Henry. You were too severe on him. He deserves rebuke, of course, and I've administered it in full. At the same time, he has earned praise. But for the information he supplied about the certain political figures, we would have made little progress. Only today, he has performed another valuable service.'

    'Acting as second to the Earl of Stoneleigh.'

    'Discovering that the earl did not write that lampoon of your father at all. It was the work of Maurice Farwell, a Member of Parliament with his own reasons for disparaging Sir Julius. But I run before myself,' he said, indicating that they should all sit. 'I've much to tell you, beginning with the arrest of two men. One helped to devise the plot against your father, the other attempted to murder me.'

    'When?' cried Susan.

    'I'll explain.'

    When they were all seated, Christopher gave them a brisk account of events, taking care to point out that his brother had actually been helpful to them. They were delighted to hear that a warrant had be issued for the arrest of the Earl of Stoneleigh and wondered why Maurice Farwell had not been taken into custody as well. Christopher took out one of the letters found on Crothers's body.

    'I was certain that he had written this,' he said, 'and my brother managed to get hold of an example of his hand this very day.' He looked at Brilliana. 'Another reason to moderate your censure of him, Mrs Serle.'

    'Does the calligraphy match?' said Susan.

    'Unhappily, it does not.'

    'So who did send the information about Father's attendance at the funeral? Somebody must have done so, Christopher.'

    'They did, and I have a vague suspicion of who it might be. In order to secure confirmation, I must ask you a favour.'

    'What can I do?' said Susan.

    'Give me permission to search your father's study. That's where I'll find the evidence we need. May I?'

    'No, you may not,' returned Brilliana. 'It would be a flagrant breach of Father's privacy. He would never allow it.'

    'If he knew that it might save his life, I believe that he would.'

    'So do I,' agreed Susan. 'I'll show you where it is.'