The Repentant Rake

    When he reached the wharf, Jonathan went to the place beside the warehouse where the body had been found. He kept thinking about the stones caught up in the man's coat. If they had not come from the immediate vicinity, where had they been picked up? He had seen nothing like them on his rounds and he could hardly search every street, lane and alley in London to find a match. Jonathan was irritated at his own lack of progress. Had it not been for his wife's suggestion he would never have thought of calling on Christopher Redmayne, yet the architect's help had been crucial. But for that, the case would have remained insoluble. Cheever's murder had been used as a warning. Given his stern moral code, Jonathan had scant sympathy for the plight of Henry Redmayne, though he wanted the man responsible for the blackmail to be caught and convicted. What pleased him was that he and Christopher were engaged in solving crimes that were linked in some way. It meant that they could team up once more and pool their resources. It also meant that he could renew a friendship that was unlikely but curiously satisfying. He would never have believed that he could like a man of such Cavalier associations. Unlike his brother, Christopher did not patronise the constable. He appreciated Jonathan's virtues and treated him as an equal.

    The constable was still examining the patch of ground beside the warehouse when he heard a horse approaching at a brisk trot, and he looked up to see a familiar figure coming towards him. Greeting him with a wave, Christopher reined in his horse.

    'Mr Warburton said that I might find you here.'

    'I was just taking one last look at the place where we found the body.'

    'Have you discovered anything new?'

    'Not yet.'

    'Well, I have,' said Christopher, dismounting. 'I've been to Richmond and back today. Sir Julius Cheever was there with the rest of the family. I was able to pass on the bad tidings. I left them to make their own decision about the burial.'

    'The body cannot stay in the morgue for much longer.'

    'They understand that, Mr Bale. But I was very glad that I made the journey.'

    'Why?'

    'Because I was given Gabriel Cheever's address.'

    Jonathan's spirits rose. 'Where does he live?'

    'Knightrider Street.'

    'Oh.'

    'I mean to visit the house immediately.'

    'You were misinformed,' said the other with a sigh of disappointment. 'Tom Warburton and I have been to every house and nobody has heard of a Mr Cheever.'

    'Then someone was lying to you. Follow me.'

    'Where are we going?'

    'To meet his wife.'

    Jonathan gaped. 'Gabriel Cheever was married?'

    'So it seems.'

    Christopher led his horse by the reins and Jonathan fell in beside him. On the walk back to Knightrider Street, the architect told him about his visit in more detail, though he said nothing about Susan Cheever's clandestine assistance. The long ride back had been sweetened by fond memories of their brief time alone together. Drawn even more to her, he had been given additional reason to track down her brother's killer. Jonathan responded with a terse account of his own day, ruing the fact that so little had been accomplished. Christopher assured him that Knightrider Street might yet yield something of real value to them.

    The house was in the middle of a neat row of dwellings close to Sermon Lane that had replaced the tenements destroyed in the Great Fire. Jonathan remembered calling there earlier and being sent on his way by a plump maidservant. When Christopher knocked, the same woman came to the door. Short, round and flat-faced, she had the look of someone who would obey her employer's wishes to the letter.

    'Good afternoon,' said Christopher, touching the brim of his hat. 'I wonder if I might see Mrs Lucy Cheever.'

    'There's nobody of that name here,' said the woman. 'I told the constable that.'

    'Then I think you must be mistaken.'

    'No, sir. I know who my mistress is.'

    'Is she at home at the moment?'

    'Not to unexpected visitors, sir.'

    'But I come as a friend,' explained Christopher. 'I must speak to her as a matter of urgency. I have news about her husband, Gabriel Cheever.'

    'You must have confused this address with another one, sir.'

    Christopher looked her in the eye. 'Are you not interested in what happened to your master?' he challenged. 'You must surely have missed him by now.'

    The woman's lids flickered but she held her ground. Jonathan intervened.

    'We need to report an accident,' he said.

    'What sort of accident, sir?' she asked.

    'A serious one.'

    The maidservant was in a quandary. Ordered to keep everyone at bay, she wanted to know more details. She hesitated for a full minute. Eventually, she opted to obey her instructions. Deciding to send them on their way, she was on the point of closing the door with a token apology when someone came down the staircase behind her. It was a young woman in a pretty green dress that rustled as she moved.

    'Did I hear mention of an accident?' she asked.

    'Yes, Mrs Cheever,' said Christopher.

    She blushed slightly. 'My name is Henley, sir.'

    'Lucy Henley was your maiden name, I suspect. I am looking at Lucy Cheever now. Why deny it?' he went on before she could protest. 'There is no shame. We are here with important news of your husband. It was your sister-in-law, Susan, who gave me this address. You can surely trust her. I think that you should let us in, Mrs Cheever.'

    Christopher's soft voice and considerate manner persuaded her. Nodding to the servant to let them in, Lucy Cheever led the way into the parlour. It was a small but cosy room with evidence of money and taste in the choice of furnishings. Christopher noted the small crucifix on the wall. The maidservant lingered protectively in the doorway but her mistress dismissed her with a glance. When Christopher had performed introductions, all three of them sat down. Lucy Cheever was a short, slender woman with a face of porcelain beauty. She looked so small, young and innocent that it was difficult to believe that she was actually married. There was a fragility about her that disturbed both men. Neither of them relished the notion of passing on the news about her husband, fearing that she would be unable to cope with it.

    'We thought that you might have come forward,' said Jonathan quietly.

    'Why?' she asked.

    'To report that your husband was missing.'

    'But I was not aware that Gabriel was missing, Mr Bale. I've been away for almost a week. I only returned to the house today.'

    'Should your husband have been here?'

    'Yes,' she said, 'but I assumed he had gone out somewhere.'

    'Where was your servant?'

    'Anna travelled with me.'

    'So you did not realise that your husband had gone astray?'

    'No, Mr Bale. I fully expect him to come back some time today.'