The Repentant Rake

    Susan was perplexed. It was a question she had already been asking herself.

    Henry Redmayne was grateful that his brother had sought him out. The cards were again falling so favourably for Arthur Lunn that it might be hours before he could be prised away from the table. The promise to give Henry a lift back to Bedford Street in his coach was forgotten. Christopher came to his brother's rescue, offering to act as his bodyguard and take him home.

    'There is one condition, Henry,' he warned.

    'What is that?'

    'We first call on Peter Wickens.'

    'This late?' said Henry peevishly. 'Why not leave it until the morning?'

    'He may have made the wrong decision by then. I want to speak to Mr Wickens before he gives in to the blackmail demand. Come on,' said Christopher. 'I know that he lives quite close to you. It is not much out of our way.'

    'Peter may not even let us into the house.'

    'He will if he has any sense. Meanwhile, tell me more about Arthur Lunn.'

    'Arthur?'

    'I want to hear just how close he was to Gabriel Cheever.'

    The walk through the dark streets gave Henry plenty of time to reminisce. He talked at length about Lunn, insisting that it would be quite out of character for him to be involved in a murder and in the subsequent blackmail demands.

    'If he was threatening to kill me, why take me out in his coach this evening?'

    'Mr Lunn could be playing a deep game.'

    'He's far too shallow for that,' said Henry dismissively. 'The only games that Arthur will ever play are at the card table or in a lady's bedchamber.'

    'Is he rich?'

    'Tolerably.'

    'Then he is not in need of money?'

    'Arthur is always in need of money, Christopher.'

    'When we left, he seemed to be doing extremely well.'

    'You caught him on a good night. He is not usually so fortunate. He never loses as heavily as Sir Marcus Kemp but I've known him take some severe falls.'

    'He would not sneeze at a thousand guineas, then?'

    'Offer him that and he would snatch your hand off.'

    Christopher was rueful. 'That is effectively what happened.'

    The house was in St Martin's Lane and Henry was astonished how quickly they seemed to get there. He was also pleased that he had not once felt uneasy during the journey. Christopher's presence was reassuring. Henry would never have dared to walk home on his own. Fear of attack still haunted him.

    'What sort of man is Peter Wickens?' asked Christopher.

    'I thought you had met him.'

    'Only once or twice. He seemed like the rest of your friends, Henry.'

    'Noble and upstanding?'

    'Disreputable.'

    Henry laughed. 'Peter is as disreputable as the rest of us,' he confessed, 'but that does not mean he has no care of his reputation. He guards it jealously. It is one thing to revel in private, quite another to have your revelry displayed for one and all to see.'

    'Is he a weak man?'

    'On the contrary.'

    'Then he might hold out against the blackmail demands.'

    'You will have to ask him about that, Christopher. All I can say is that Peter Wickens is a good friend a lively companion and a generous host. If he has a fault, it is that he has a serious side to his character.'

    'What do you mean?'

    'Peter actually goes to the playhouse in order to enjoy the play.'

    With a scornful laugh, Henry reached out to ring the doorbell. They were in luck. Wickens was still up and received them at once. Puzzled by their arrival, he ushered them into a small room off the hall. The three of them took seats round the flickering candles in the silver candelabrum.

    'To what do I owe this visit, Henry?' asked Wickens.

    'I told Christopher about your little problem.'

    'Then you had no business to do so,' said the other hotly. 'It's a private matter.'

    'Not when it has a bearing on Gabriel Cheever's murder,' said Christopher. 'If we can solve that, you will have to pay no blackmail demand.'

    Wickens was sceptical. 'Have you taken it upon yourself to solve the crime?'

    'I became involved through my brother, Mr Wickens.'

    'Christopher has helped me through the ordeal,' agreed Henry.

    'What use is that to me?' said Wickens.

    Christopher calmed him down and explained his role in the murder investigation. Wickens slowly shed his reservations. Instead of being annoyed at Christopher's intrusion into his affairs, he began to be interested in what he was hearing. The questions he put were intelligent and searching. Christopher felt that he was winning the man over. Wickens was not like the other blackmail victims he had met. Henry had been gripped by hysteria while Sir Marcus Kemp had ranted and raved. Wickens was much more in control of his anxiety. It was possible to have a sensible dialogue with him.

    'When did the letter arrive?' asked Christopher.

    'Late this morning.'

    'What did you think when you read it?'

    'Rational thought was impossible at first,' said Wickens. 'The truth is that I was in turmoil. I do not pretend to be celibate but the notion of having my indiscretions made public was terrifying. My first instinct was to pay the money at once.'

    'I am glad you fought against the impulse.'

    'I needed advice. Your brother was the obvious person to turn to for counsel.'

    Henry smirked. 'I do have flashes of sagacity from time to time.'

    'It was only then that I discovered that Henry himself was a victim. It explained why we had seen so little of him recently. Why on earth did you not turn to me, Henry?' he wondered. 'You could have relied on my help.'

    'Henry chose me instead, Mr Wickens,' said Christopher. 'Having been a victim yourself, you'll understand the urge to tell as few people as possible.'

    'Oh, yes!'

    'So what do you intend to do?'

    'Sleep on the matter and decide in the morning.'

    'Which way do you incline at the moment?'

    'Towards complying with the demand.'

    'That would be a mistake, Mr Wickens.'

    'What else can I do?'

    'Ignore the letter.'

    'And see myself ridiculed in print?' said Wickens sharply. 'It is not an enticing prospect, sir. Gabriel Cheever is taking revenge on us from beyond the grave. Had I known that he was keeping this scurrilous diary about his closest friends, I would have made him destroy it.'

    'I doubt that, Peter,' said Henry. 'He was not the kind of man to take orders.'

    'Besides,' added Christopher, 'the diary was not intended for publication.'

    Wickens was adamant. 'It must never see the light of day.'

    'Then help me to prevent that happening, Mr Wickens.'

    'How?'

    'First of all, I would like to see the letter you received.'

    Wickens was about to protest. 'I do not intend to read it,' promised Christopher. 'A cursory glance will be more than enough.'

    'Do as says,' urged Henry.

    Wickens hesitated. 'I do not feel that it is necessary.'

    'My brother believes it came from the same person who sent one of the letters to him,' explained Christopher. 'I merely wish to confirm that. Nothing more.'

    With considerable reluctance, Wickens took the missive from his pocket. The visitors waited while their host wrestled with the problem. At length, he thrust the letter into Christopher's hand with a stern warning.