The Repentant Rake

    'He's a competent architect, Susan. I have it on good authority.' He leaned forward. 'But why this sudden interest in Christopher Redmayne?'

    'A passing thought,' she said. 'No more. I can come with you, then?'

    He rose to his feet. 'Give me time to think it over.'

    'London has so much to offer at this time of year.'

    'Yes, Susan. Blistering heat, a dreadful stench and too many people.'

    He moved to the door but she got up from her chair to intercept him. Anticipating what she was going to say, Sir Julius bristled. His daughter was not to be put off.

    'Father,' she began.

    'Do I really want to hear this?' he warned.

    'Someone else lives in London as well.'

    'Thousands of people do.'

    'This person is rather special.'

    'Not to me,' he snapped. 'Not any more.'

    'Gabriel is your son,' she argued.

    'I have no son, Susan.'

    'He still looks upon you as his father.'

    'Well, he has no right to do so,' said Sir Julius vehemently. 'Gabriel is a disgrace to himself and to his family. Ours is a proud name and he has forfeited any claim on it. I expect a degree of rebellion in a son. It shows spirit. But he went too far, Susan. It broke your mother's heart to see him stalk out of the house the way he did - and for what? A life of idleness in the taverns and gaming houses of London.'

    She clutched his arm. 'Gabriel may have changed by now, Father.'

    'I have not,' he said firmly.

    Detaching her hand, he walked quickly away before he lost his temper.

    Jonathan Bale had too full a day to devote much time to the murder investigation and the enquiries he had been able to make on that score had borne no fruit. As he walked back home with Tom Warburton, he confided his frustration.

    'I wish I could devote all my time to it, Tom.'

    'Leave that to others,' advised Warburton.

    'But we found the body. I feel involved.'

    'We've done all we can, Jonathan.'

    'And where has it got us?' said the other. 'Nowhere. You've knocked on dozens of doors in search of witnesses but found none at all. I've put a name to the dead man but I've no idea who he was or where he lived. Nahum Gibbins gave me an address but they had never heard of him there.' He ran a hand across his chin. 'Why does a customer give his shoemaker a false address?'

    'Maybe the name is false as well.'

    'I thought of that.'

    They plodded on together. As they passed an alley, Warburton's dog came trotting out to take his place at his master's heels but he soon darted off ahead of them. Jonathan watched him pause to sniff at the wall of a tavern.

    He was pensive. 'What puzzles me is that nobody's come forward.'

    'True.'

    'The man is missing. Someone in the ward must be worried by his absence.'

    'Only if he came from round here.'

    'Where else?'

    'Any part of the city.'

    'Why drag him all this way to dispose of the body? No, Tom. He must have some link with Baynard's Castle ward. I feel it in my bones. And the killer must know the area as well. He picked a good spot to hide the body. And a good time.'

    'When nobody was about.'

    'Nobody who remembers seeing anything, that is.'

    'Ah.'

    'We must try again tomorrow.'

    'Yes.'

    Jonathan gave him a farewell wave and turned into Addle Hill. With his dog back at his heels, Warburton continued on towards his own house. It had been a disappointing day and Jonathan was glad to be home again. When he entered, Sarah was coming downstairs, having just put the two boys to bed. Smiling a welcome, she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

    'I told them you'd be back in time to read to them.'

    'In a moment,' he said, going into the kitchen.

    'You look exhausted, Jonathan.'

    'Annoyed more than anything else.'

    'Why?'

    'Oh, it's not fair to bring my troubles home,' he said, dredging up a smile. 'The problem will keep until morning then I'll start all over again.'

    'Is it to do with that dead body you found?'

    'Yes.'

    'I thought you found out a name.'

    'I did' he agreed, 'but that's all I found out. The address I was given was false. For some reason, the young man wanted to cover his tracks. All I know is that he wore expensive shoes and dressed like a gentleman. He might even be a courtier. That's not a world I know - or want to know - much about, Sarah.'

    'You've been to Court,' she said with pride. 'You've spoken to His Majesty.'

    He wrinkled his nose. 'Not with any pleasure, my love. When he saw fit to employ me, I had to obey the King but I was never comfortable in his presence. If the dead man was a courtier, I'll leave it to others to find out more about him. I'll not venture down to Westminster again. It's a vile place.'

    Sarah said nothing but her mind was working. While her husband went off to read to his sons from the Bible, she prepared his supper. So rarely did he talk about his work at home that she knew this case held a special interest for him. She wanted to help. When he finally came back to the kitchen, she made a suggestion.

    'What about that friend of yours, Jonathan?'

    'Friend?'

    'Mr Redmayne.'

    'He's not really a friend, Sarah.'

    'Come now,' she said reprovingly. 'You know that you like him. You and he worked well together in the past so don't pretend you have no time for him.'

    'What can Mr Redmayne do?'

    'See if the dead man really did go to Court.'

    'How could he find out? Mr Redmayne is no courtier.'

    'No,' she said. 'But his brother Henry is. I've heard you mention him.'

    Jonathan pondered. His wife had made a valuable suggestion. It was an idea that would never have crossed his own mind because he had so many reservations about his occasional partnership with Christopher Redmayne. But it was perhaps a way to secure indirect access to Court. When everything else had failed, it might be worth a try. He fought hard to overcome his prejudices.

    'Thank you, Sarah,' he said at length. 'I'll go and see Mr Redmayne tomorrow.'

Chapter Five

    Christopher Redmayne was distressed by his visit to Bedford Street and vowed to help his stricken brother in every possible way. At the same time, however, he could not neglect the work in which he was engaged, marking, as it did a major advance in his career. It was not merely the first commission to come his way as a result of a property he had already designed, it was also the first to allow him a free hand in the choice of builder. Earlier clients had reserved the right to select their own men and this had sometimes created problems. The builder foisted on him by Jasper Hartwell, for example, had been able but obstructive and though the house he built was substantially the one that Christopher had designed, he had criticised the architect at every stage and made the project an unnecessarily difficult one. It was a relief to know that this time he could engage a builder who would work with him rather than against him. The choice, in fact, had already made itself. Having found a congenial partner during the construction of Elijah Pembridge's new bookshop, Christopher sought out the same man in the hope that he would be available for hire again. Like most reputable builders, Sidney Popejoy was extremely busy, but his admiration for the architect was such that he promised to recruit additional men in order to take on the project.