The Repentant Rake

    'Why?' asked Susan.

    Sir Julius was hurt. 'Are you spurning my offer?'

    'I have to,' said Christopher. 'The suspect I have in mind is a woman.'

    Celia Hemmings was scolding her dressmaker when the letter arrived at her house in Covent Garden. Having paid so much for it, she expected every detail to be exactly as she had prescribed, but her new dress fell short of perfection in several ways. With a final burst of vituperation, she packed the dressmaker off to make the necessary alterations before she snatched the letter from her servant's hands and gave it a casual glance. It was only when she returned to her bedchamber that she thought to open it. The letter was short, polite and written in the most elegant hand. What made her blink was the name of the sender. Celia read the letter through once more.

    'Susan Cheever?' she said to herself. 'Why does she wish to meet me?'

    The prison cell was small, dark and fetid. The hot weather served to intensify the stink. Manacled to an iron ring in the wall, the man crouched in the corner. He was wearing only shirt, breeches and shoes now. When Christopher arrived Jonathan Bale was still trying without success to elicit the truth from the prisoner. It was arduous work.

    'What has he told you?' asked Christopher.

    'Nothing at all, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Were there no clues on him as to his identity?'

    'None,' said Jonathan. 'All that he was carrying when he went into the printer's shop was a leather satchel. It contained two more extracts from the diary.'

    Christopher turned to the man. 'Where is the rest of the diary?' he said.

    'Search for it up my arse!' sneered the other, offering his buttocks.

    'Show some respect!' ordered Jonathan.

    'I respect nobody.'

    'You'll respect the hangman, I dare say,' observed Christopher.

    The man spat into the filthy straw that covered the floor and glared at him with open defiance. Christopher was interested to take a longer look at him. The prisoner was exactly as Henshaw had described him. He was young, dark, brawny and until his nose had been broken, passably handsome. His manner was uncouth. Even though he was chained to the wall, he still possessed an air of menace. There was great strength in the broad shoulders and long arms. Having fought with the man himself, Christopher could see how Gabriel Cheever had been overpowered by him.

    'Someone helped you to kill Gabriel,' he said.

    'Did they?' replied the man with mock surprise.

    'Who was he?'

    'I've been asking him that repeatedly,' said Jonathan.

    'You strangled him,' said Christopher, moving close to the man, 'but someone else ran him through with a sword. Is that right? Were there two of you?'

    The man gave a broad grin. 'I like to kill on my own.'

    'Those days are over,' said Jonathan.

    'Not if one of you comes close enough.'

    'Watch him, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Oh, I'm safe enough,' said Christopher, only a foot away from the prisoner. 'He never attacks from the front, do you, my friend? That would be a fair fight. He prefers to sneak up on someone in the dark and take him unawares.'

    'Only cowards do that,' remarked Jonathan.

    'I'm no coward!' asserted the man.

    'Yes, you are.'

    'I agree, Mr Bale,' said Christopher, trying to provoke the man. 'That's the reason he'll not name his accomplices. He's afraid of them. He's a coward.'

    'No!' yelled the prisoner. 'What I did takes nerve.'

    'What you did was pure wickedness,' said Jonathan with contempt, 'and you'll pay for it on the scaffold with your accomplices alongside you.'

    'There was nobody else.'

    'Yes, there was.'

    'Somebody set you on,' said Christopher. 'You may be clever enough to kill someone who is not looking but all that you are fit for, apart from that, is to fetch and carry. They used you, my friend. They made you do all the work while they sat back and give orders. And where has it got you? Chained to a wall in this sewer.'

    'With two rats like you for company,' retorted the man.

    'Guard your tongue!' warned Jonathan, moving in.

    'Who's the coward now?' jeered the other. 'You'd only dare to take me on when I've got these manacles on my wrists. Set me free and we'll see who is the strongest.'

    'I wish I was allowed to do just that.'

    'Ignore him, Mr Bale,' advised Christopher. 'He is baiting you. Let's leave him to lie in his own ordure for a night or two. He might be more amenable to persuasion by then. We'll get nothing more out of the rogue today.'

    They went out of the cell and Jonathan turned to close the door.

    'Wait!' begged the man, weakening at last. 'I'll strike a bargain with you.'

    'What sort of bargain?' said Jonathan.

    'Do you have any influence with the gaoler?'

    'I might have.'

    'Get him to bring me some decent food.'

    'In my opinion, you've no right to eat anything at all.'

    'Hear him out, Mr Bale,' suggested Christopher. 'Supposing we could arrange some better food for you,' he said to the prisoner, 'what would you tell us?'

    'The name you want.'

    'Is he the man who is behind the blackmail demands?'

    'Yes,' said the other, lowering his head.

    'Who is he?'

    'Promise you'll get me the food first.'

    'Mr Bale will do what he can.'

    'I need more than that. Give me a firm promise.'

    'Very well,' said Jonathan. 'I'll speak to a friend here. I give you my word.'

    'Now tell us the name,' said Christopher.

    'I will,' consented the other solemnly.

    'Well?'

    'Sir Julius Cheever!'

    The man went off into a peal of derisive laughter. Annoyed that they had been taken in by the deception, Jonathan slammed the door shut and locked it. They could still hear the wild laughter as they left the building.

Chapter Fourteen

    Jonathan Bale guessed at once who the visitor might be. When he opened his front door, he was suddenly facing the commanding figure of Sir Julius Cheever, stern, watchful and full of purpose. Though Jonathan had only seen Gabriel Cheever's face on a slab at the mortuary, he discerned a clear resemblance between father and son.

    'Mr Bale?' asked Sir Julius.

    'Yes, sir.'

    'My name is Sir Julius Cheever.'

    'I know that,' said Jonathan respectfully.

    'Then you will understand why I want to shake your hand' said Sir Julius, offering a firm grip and pumping his arm. 'We owe you a great debt, Mr Bale.'

    'It was not all my doing, Sir Julius.'

    'Come now.' He released his hand. 'Let us have no false modesty here. Mr Redmayne has told us how you were instrumental in the arrest of the villain and you have been a model of fortitude throughout the investigation.'

    'Tom Warburton must take some credit,' said Jonathan.

    'So I am told.'

    'He's my fellow constable.'

    'With a rather special dog, I gather.'

    Jonathan gave a smile. 'Sam is worth his weight in gold.'

    He was astounded to see Sir Julius on his doorstep. Christopher Redmayne had told him of the old man's return to London but Jonathan had never expected to meet him properly, let alone be sought out for congratulation. Simultaneously embarrassed and flattered that Sir Julius had walked the short distance from Knightrider Street to the house in Addle Hill to meet him, he was lost for words. Sir Julius was studying him carefully.