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Authors: Edward Marston

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Mystery & Detective, #General

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    'You
and Mr Bale have done wonders.'

    'Yes,'
agreed Sir Julius. 'I'd like to meet this brave constable of yours.'

    'You
may already have done so, Sir Julius.'

    'Oh?'

    'Mr
Bale would never tell me this himself,' said Christopher, 'but his wife has
confided in me that her husband bore arms at the Battle of Worcester.'

    Sir
Julius was cautious. 'On which side?'

    'The
winning side.'

    'Then
I insist on meeting the fellow!'

    'He
was very young at the time, Sir Julius, but he's a born fighter. I've learned
that on more than one occasion. You might wish to meet Mr Warburton as well. He
assisted in the arrest.'

    'I
would like to meet the dog,' said Lucy quietly.

    'You will
meet them all in time,' said Christopher.

    'What
about the accomplices?' asked Lucy. 'Do you have any idea who they are?'

    'I
believe that I know the name of one of them.'

    'Tell
me who he is,' demanded Sir Julius, 'and I'll help in the arrest myself.'

    'More
evidence is needed before we can move to that stage, Sir Julius. As it happens
I will need some help in obtaining it.'

    'Count
on me, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Actually,
I was hoping that your daughter might be able to assist.'

    'Me?'
said Susan in astonishment.

    'Yes,
Miss Cheever.'

    'What
can Susan do?' said Sir Julius with mild scorn. 'Make use of my experience
here. I am skilled in the art of interrogation. Tell me who the man is and I
promise to get the truth out of him in no time at all.'

    'I
still think that your daughter would be more suitable.'

    '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.

    'You
did well, Mr Bale.'

    'Thank
you, Sir Julius.'

    'I'm
a generous man. You'll be rewarded.'

    'Arresting
the killer was the only reward I wanted' said Jonathan quickly. 'I never accept
money. All I did was my duty as a constable. I helped to wipe an ugly stain off
the face of my ward and that gives me great satisfaction.'

    'So
it should.'

    'There
are accomplices still to be tracked down.'

    'You
caught the villain who murdered my son,' said Sir Julius seriously, 'and that
is the main thing. Mr Redmayne tells me that he is proving stubborn.'

    'At
the moment.'

    'Let
me have access to him.'

    'That
will not be possible, Sir Julius.'

    'But
I am Gabriel's father.'

    'It
might distress you too much to meet the man,' said Jonathan. 'He has a vile
tongue and is quite unrepentant about his crime.'

    'I'll
make the devil repent soon enough!'

    'No,
Sir Julius.'

    'Give
me five minutes alone with him, that's all I ask.'

    'It
would not be up to me to sanction that.'

    'Then
take me to someone who can.'

    'I'm
sorry, Sir Julius,' said Jonathan. 'There are strict rules. Access to prisoners
is controlled, especially when they are dangerous felons like this man.'

BOOK: The Repentant Rake
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