The King's Evil (34 page)

'That
is certainly true. Turn round so that I can see you.'

It
was his only chance of escape and he took it bravely. As the man stepped back
to allow him to turn, Jonathan swung round quickly to knock the barrel of the
pistol upwards so that it discharged its bullet harmlessly at the ceiling. His
other fist sank into the man's stomach and took all the wind out of him.
Thrusting him roughly aside, Jonathan went scrambling up the steps and raced
across the deck. The sound of the pistol alerted the two men on night watch and
they came running towards the stern with muskets in their hands but they were
far too slow. All that they saw was a bulky figure, diving headfirst into the
river. When they hung over the bulwark with a lantern, they could see no sign
of him. He had disappeared beneath the water.

The
visit of Penelope Northcott left him in a state of mild exhilaration for the
rest of the day. In bringing the rosary beads and the missal, she had given him
some crucial guidance but it was the news of her broken engagement which really
stirred him. It was not simply that it freed her from what he felt was an
unfortunate match; it also removed any scruples Christopher had about
confronting a beloved fiancée. He could now avenge himself on George Strype
with a clear conscience though that pleasure had to take its turn behind other
priorities. Having spent the morning and much of the afternoon with Penelope,
he had called on his brother early that evening to press him into service
again.

Back
in Fetter Lane once more, he was able to review the new facts which had come to
light and to reflect on the enchanting character of Penelope Northcott. Other
daughters in her position would have been so paralysed by grief at the death of
their father that they would have felt unable to move, let alone begin a systematic
search of his private papers. Anyone else learning such an unpleasant secret
about a parent they respected would have kept it hidden from view out of a
sense of shame but she overcame her mortification to bring the letters to
Christopher. Her trust in him was inspiring. It made him redouble his efforts
to catch the man who killed both Sir Ambrose Northcott and, in all probability,
his hapless lawyer.

Seated
in the parlour, Christopher went through the sequence of events once again,
fitting each piece of evidence neatly together. A fierce knocking at his door
interrupted his cogitations and sounded an alarm bell. Waving Jacob away,
Christopher reached for his sword and went to answer the door himself. If it
was an enraged George Strype, he would be more than ready for him. Determined
to support his master, Jacob came up behind him with a candelabrum in one hand
and a stick in the other. When Christopher opened the door, however, he found
himself staring at the most unlikely caller.

Jesus-Died-To-Save-Me
Thorpe delivered his message bluntly.

'Ye
are to come at once, Mr Redmayne!'

'Where
to?'

'Addle
Hill. Mr Bale is in need of you.'

'Why?'
asked Christopher anxiously, knowing that nothing short of an emergency would
make the constable summon him. 'Is he injured?'

'He
does not have breath enough to tell us,' said Thorpe. 'When he got back home,
he was like a drowned rat. It was Mrs Bale who sent me.'

'I
will come immediately,' said Christopher, then he looked more closely at the
messenger. 'Wait, sir. Have I not seen you before? Yes,' he recalled, taking
the candelabrum from Jacob to hold it closer to his visitor's face. 'You were
locked in the pillory. Mr Thorpe, is it not?'

'It
is, sir. Neighbour to Mr Bale. He was kind to me when I was unjustly pilloried.
I am glad to be able to help him in return. But hurry, Mr Redmayne. Ye keep the
poor man waiting.'

Having
delivered his message, Jesus-Died-To-Save-Me Thorpe vanished into the darkness.
Jacob brought a lantern and helped his master to saddle the horse. Within
minutes, Christopher was cantering in the direction of Baynard's Castle Ward,
wondering what had happened to the constable and feeling guilty in case he had
endangered the man's life with the orders he had given him. When he reached the
house, he leaped from the saddle and was still tethering the animal when Sarah
Bale came bustling out to greet him.

'Thank
goodness you have come, Mr Redmayne!' she said.

'What
is amiss?'

'Jonathan
has been in the river. He would not tell me why. You are the only person who
can get the truth out of him.' She ushered him into the house. 'Excuse his rudeness.
He did not want me to send for you.'

Christopher
soon saw why. When he went into the parlour, the constable was lying in a
chair, wrapped in a blanket. His hair was still wet, his face pale and his
fatigue apparent. Jonathan Bale was far too proud a man to let anyone but his
wife see him in such a condition and he glared inhospitably at his visitor
before shooting Sarah a look of reproach. She gave him a smile and backed out
of the room.

'What
are you doing here, sir?' asked Jonathan grumpily.

'Your
neighbour, the quarrelsome Quaker, urged me to come.'

'Mr
Thorpe?'

'The
same. A case of Jesus-Came-To-Call-Me. Here I am.'

'There
was no need. As soon as I had dried myself off, I intended to come straight to
you. I am recovered now.'

'Mrs
Bale obviously thought otherwise,' said Christopher, 'and I prefer to rely on
her opinion. Now, tell me what happened. You have been swimming on the river, I
hear.'

'Not
from choice. I got aboard the
Marie Louise.'

'How?'

'Under
cover of darkness.'

Jonathan
told his tale and mellowed as Christopher interjected compliments and
congratulations. The discovery of the mask was seen as a critical piece of
evidence. Jonathan felt certain that it was the one worn by the nocturnal
visitor to the house in Lincoln's Inn Fields.

'Then
he may well be the killer,' decided Christopher. 'He has been placed at Mrs
Mandrake's house, on the
Marie Louise
and, I suspect, in the cellar
where Sir Ambrose met his death. He links all three locations.'

'Since
he has access to the ship, he must have been aboard when Solomon Creech visited
the vessel. I guess that is where Mr Creech was killed.'

'But
the body was nowhere near where the
Marie Louise
had been anchored. It was found
some way downriver.'

'Currents,
sir,' said Jonathan ruefully. 'They carried him along. I have known bodies
coming to the surface a mile from where they were dumped in the water.' He gave
a shiver. 'I was almost one of them.'

'Did
you swim to the bank?' 'No, Mr Redmayne. I went under the hull of the fishing
smack nearby and hid behind that for a long time. When I was sure they had
stopped looking for me, I swam back to retrieve my boat.' He pulled the blanket
around him. 'It is not easy to row when you are soaking wet.'

'Your
sacrifice was worthwhile, Mr Bale. You may have found the most valuable clue of
all. When is she due to sail?'

'Within
a few days.'

'Then
we must act quickly.'

'To
do what, sir?'

'Bait
the trap.'

'I
do not understand.'

'You
will, my friend,' said Christopher. 'But first let me tell you what I learned
today. I had another visit from Sir Ambrose's daughter. She found something
which helps to confirm what my visit to Paris suggested.'

'And
what is that?'

'The
real worm in the bud here is religion.'

Jonathan
listened with fascination as the architect constructed his argument with the
same punctiliousness he would give to the design of a house. It took on
definition and solidity before his admiring eyes. Though still incomplete, the
structure began to look impressively sound. The constable gave a grudging
smile.

'You
have put much thought into this, sir,' he observed.

'It
is important to me, Mr Bale.'

'And
to me,' the other reminded him. 'A wonder that it is not more important to Mr
Strype. You might think that he would have a stronger reason than any to want
the murderer caught. When Sir Ambrose was killed, Mr Strype lost a friend, a
business partner and a future father- in-law.'

'I
am sure that he desires the arrest and conviction of this man as much as
anyone,' said Christopher blandly. 'What upsets Mr Strype is the idea that I
might be the person to catch the villain.'

'Is
that why he had you attacked the other night?'

Christopher
thought of Penelope and a smile ignited his face.

'No,
Mr Bale. That was over something else.'

By
the time that Christopher left the house, Jonathan Bale had rallied, overcome
his resentment at the visit and even risen to an expression of gratitude. Sarah
added her own thanks as she saw their guest to the door, then she went back in
to cosset her husband.

Christopher
left the city by Ludgate and rode slowly as he reflected on events. He was
desperate to speak to his brother but he did not relish having to search for Henry
through a series of gaming houses at that time of night. Resolving to call at
Bedford Street early next morning, he let his horse take him back towards
Fetter Lane.

In
one day, he felt, they had made substantial progress in their investigation but
he did not let his sense of satisfaction distract him. He realised that George
Strype had even more cause to assault him now, blaming him - at least in part -
for the broken engagement. One hand on his sword, Christopher was vigilant as
he trotted up Fetter Lane. There was no sign of any ambush but two horses were
tethered outside his house. He wondered who would call at such a late hour.
While his master was dismounting, Jacob came scurrying out of the front door
with a lantern and a look of apology.

'I
had to let them in, sir,' he explained.

'Who?'

'Miss
Littlejohn has come back.'

'What?'
said Christopher in annoyance. 'I told you never to let her across the
threshold again. This is too much, Jacob. Stable my horse.'

He
tossed the reins to his servant and marched into the house, determined to eject
Margaret Littlejohn with such courteous firmness that she would never again
bother him. When he went into his parlour, however, the person who stood up to
greet him was Samuel Littlejohn. The builder seemed embarrassed. He licked his
lips and gestured to his daughter, who was squirming with discomfort on a
chair.

'Please
excuse us calling, sir,' said Littlejohn, shifting his feet. 'But I simply had
to bring Margaret here at once.' 'Why?' said Christopher uneasily. 'She has
something to tell you.'