The Repentant Rake

    'In a sense, it was a blessing that the constable turned to me for help.'

    'Blessing?' echoed Sir Julius in a hollow voice.

    'Had the body not been identified' Christopher argued, 'it would have been buried in an unmarked grave with nobody to mourn over it. That would have been very sad.'

    'Where is it being held?'

    'At the city morgue, Sir Julius. Awaiting the decision of the family.'

    That decision, he saw, would not be easy to make. Sir Julius was caught up in a welter of emotions, Brilliana was wrestling with her own feelings and her husband was awaiting her cue so that he could agree with her. Only Susan Cheever knew what she wanted and she feared that her wishes might be overruled.

    Christopher rose to his feet. 'I'll trespass no longer on your grief,' he said. 'All that I can do is offer you my profound condolences. If there is anything further that I may do - anything at all - please do not hesitate to call on me.'

    'Thank you, Mr Redmayne,' whispered Susan.

    'Yes, thank you,' said Sir Julius awkwardly. 'I am sorry to give you so uncivil a welcome. It was good of you to ride all this way with such dreadful tidings. I do appreciate that. Needless to say, this may alter my plans somewhat.'

    'Of course, Sir Julius,' said Christopher. 'Our business can wait. Do excuse me.'

    He gave a farewell nod and headed for the door. Serle followed him into the hall to add his personal thanks and to wave him off. Christopher departed reluctantly. He wanted to offer some consolation to Susan Cheever but that was impossible while she was surrounded by the others. All that he could do was slip quietly away. When the front door was closed behind him, he looked up at the house and regretted that he had brought such unhappiness to it. He walked slowly to the stables to find his horse, and was about to mount up when a figure suddenly appeared in front of him. Susan Cheever was breathless from her dash to find him.

    'Thank goodness I caught you!' she said between gasps.

    'Get your breath back before you speak further,' he advised. 'I cannot tell you how grieved I am to be the bearer of such tragic news, but I felt that you should hear it as soon as was conceivably possible.'

    'That was very considerate of you, Mr Redmayne.'

    'I wish that you could have been spared the shock.'

    Susan took a moment to regain her composure then gave a little smile. 'You deserve my thanks,' she said.

    'For what?'

    'Omitting something from your account of Gabriel's death.'

    'I thought it a kindness to do so.'

    'I'm not talking about details that might have upset us, Mr Redmayne. You were discreet in another way. I'm grateful to you.'

    'It's not for me to pry into your family affairs.'

    'You knew,' she said quietly, 'yet you did not expose me.'

    'All I know is that you loved your brother as a sister should, Miss Cheever.'

    Susan heaved a sigh. 'Father would disagree.'

    'Sir Julius may one day come to admit that he did have a son.'

    'Gabriel's name will always fester in his memory.'

    'And in that of your sister, I fancy,' he observed sadly.

    'Brilliana and Gabriel were never close,' recalled Susan. 'When he left home, she spurned him as readily as Father. I could never do that.'

    'So I've learned.' Alarm came into her eyes. 'Have no fear,' he soothed. 'I'll not betray you, Miss Cheever. I applaud your courage. You've done what any true sister would have done.'

    Susan looked at him with mingled doubt and affection. She searched his face to see if she could trust him. Christopher was calm beneath her scrutiny. Even at such a difficult time, it was a joy to be close to her again. When she made up her mind, Susan checked to see that nobody could overhear them then stepped closer to him.

    'There's something I must tell you, Mr Redmayne,' she began. 'Something which has to be kept from the rest of the family.'

    'With good reason, I suspect.'

    'It may help with your enquiries.'

    'Anything that does that is welcome, Miss Cheever.'

    She lowered her head. 'Though it will mean more pain and distress.'

    'For whom?'

    'Someone I have never even met.'

    'You are being very mysterious.'

    'How much have you found out about Gabriel?' she asked, looking up.

    'Precious little,' he confessed. 'I know that he spent most of his time in the gaming houses and enjoyed an astonishing run of luck at cards. But I also know that he was no mere pleasure-seeker. Your brother had serious literary ambitions.'

    'He did. Writing was his first love.'

    'I am told that he had exceptional talent.'

    'What else were you told?' she wondered. 'Do you know where he lived?'

    'No, Miss Cheever. That has been a stumbling block to us. We have no address for him. He lodged in Covent Garden at one time but disappeared from there without warning some months ago. None of his friends had any idea where to find him.'

    'I did, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Was he still in London?'

    'Oh, yes. Gabriel had no urge to leave.'

    'Where did he go to ground?'

    'At a house in Knightrider Street. I can furnish you with the number. But there is something you must know before I do so.'

    'Indeed?'

    'Gabriel was not living alone,' she said quietly. 'He was enjoying true happiness for the first time in his life. I dare say that you can guess why.'

    Christopher was taken aback. 'He was married?'

    'Her name is Lucy. Be gentle with her when you break the news.'

Chapter Seven

    Jonathan Bale had a laborious day. He worked excessively hard but had little to show for his efforts. As well as attending to the routine duties of a constable, he interviewed two more people whose names appeared on Henry Redmayne's list, spoke at length to the coroner about the murder investigation, scoured Paul's Wharf afresh for any clues that might lead to the identification of a suspect and kept his eyes peeled, wherever he went, for any stones resembling those taken from the dead man's coat. He also joined his colleague in the tedious process of visiting every house in Knightrider Street. By mid-afternoon, they had almost completed the task. Tom Warburton was more morose than ever.

    'Waste of time,' he decided.

    'Only one more house to go.'

    'I know the people who live there, Jonathan.'

    'Do they have a lodger?'

    'No.'

    'We might as well try while we are here.'

    'Why bother?'

    'Leave it to me,' said Jonathan.

    He knocked on the door and a hulking man in a leather apron soon appeared. Jonathan recognised him as the assistant to a blacksmith in Great Carter Lane. The man was surly and resentful. With five children, a wife and a mother-in-law in the house, he pointed out, a man had no room for a lodger. Nor did he know of a young man called Gabriel Cheever. He went back into the house and closed the door firmly in their faces. Jonathan was left to face his gloomy colleague.

    'I told you so,' grunted Warburton.

    'It was worth a try.'

    'Mr Cheever is not here.'

    'He may have moved in recently, Tom.'

    'Where? We knocked on every door.'

    Jonathan looked down the length of the street and gave a resigned nod. It had been a forlorn exercise. All that they had to go on was a possible sighting of Gabriel Cheever in Knightrider Street by a man who was not entirely certain of what he saw. Even if the fleeting glimpse had been of Cheever, there was no proof that he resided in the area. He might have simply been visiting the ward. The constables were tired. Even the normally ebullient Sam was jaded. It was time to seek refreshment. Jonathan decided to take one last look at Paul's Wharf before going home, but Warburton had other chores to deal with and went off in the opposite direction. Glad to see his master moving with more purpose, the dog scampered after him with something of its old enthusiasm.