'Yes, Henry. This evening. You were destined for a reproof.'
'Was I? On what grounds?'
'Indiscretion,' said Christopher with gentle mockery. 'You are in disgrace, Henry. I chanced to make reference to his daughter.'
'Penelope?'
'Yes. Sir Ambrose took exception to my comment. I might as well warn you that he was highly displeased with you.'
'Why?'
'For revealing to me that he had a daughter.'
'In confidence,' said Henry petulantly. 'In strictest confidence. You should have kept it to yourself. Never touch on his family. I told you at the outset how intensely private a man Sir Ambrose was. Your task was to design his house, not to enquire into his background. You have put me in a most awkward position.'
'I am sorry. It slipped out.'
'The damage is not beyond repair, I suppose, but it is embarrassing all the same. Well, that can wait,' he said dismissively, tossing his periwig. 'Our first job is to find him.'
'Is there nowhere else he might be?'
'Not that I can think of, Christopher.'
'What if he had some urgent summons from home?'
'He would never have ridden off to Kent without leaving word for me and for his lawyer.'
'Are you sure?'
'Absolutely. That is not the explanation.'
'Then what is, Henry?'
The question anguished his brother. He flopped down in a chair and stared glassily ahead of him. His face was ashen with fatigue, his brow wrinkled with anxiety. His hands played nervously in his lap. He went through all the possibilities before turning to Christopher and giving a hopeless shrug.
'I dread to think,' he said quietly. 'I fear the worst.'
The night passed without incident. The old man had been replaced with a much younger one, who patrolled the site conscientiously without being tempted in any way either by drink or the blandishments of sleep. He kept a lonely vigil but that did not disturb him. He was being paid well. When dawn began to break, he strolled to the bottom of the garden and stood on a mound of earth to look out across the river as it slowly came into view. The plash of oars told him that a boat was passing but he could not pick it out. A glimpse of a lantern identified another vessel. He watched with interest until the scrunch of feet made him turn.
Someone had come on to the site. The intruder, seen in hazy outline, was making his way around the angle of the house. Drawing his sword, the nightwatchman hurried back up the garden to accost the stranger. His challenge was firm and unequivocal.
'Hold there, sir!' he ordered. 'You are trespassing.'
'It is I, Jem,' said Christopher. 'Put up your sword.'
'Is it really you, Mr Redmayne?'
'The same. Good morning.'
'Good morning, sir.'
Jem was a tall, muscular, ungainly young man with a face as round and expressionless as a full moon. Suspicious by nature, he waited until he was only yards away before he accepted that the unexpected visitor was indeed the architect. He sheathed his sword and cocked his head to one side in curiosity.
'What are you doing here, Mr Redmayne?' he wondered.
'I wanted to see the house.'
'This early?'
'There will soon be light enough.'
'A strange time to come calling.'
'I am hoping to meet someone here, Jem.'
'Mr Littlejohn and his men will not be along for an hour or more.'
'It is Sir Ambrose whom I wish to see, however long I need to wait. He comes to the site every day when he is in London.'
'Yes, Mr Redmayne. He was here yesterday.'
Christopher started. 'You saw him?'
'As I was coming on duty, sir.'
'That must have been well into the evening.'
'It was.'
'Did he say anything to you?'
'Not a word,' said the nightwatchman. 'When I tried to speak to him, Sir Ambrose waved me away. He just wanted to look around, I think.'
'And what time did he leave?'
'Who knows? I was minding my own business.'
'Do you have no idea how long he was here?'
'None, sir.'
'What exactly did he do on the site?'
Jem shook his head. 'I kept out of his way.' He could see the other's concern. 'Is something wrong, Mr Redmayne?'
'That is what I am trying to find out.'
'I was only obeying orders,' said the nightwatchman defensively. 'Sir Ambrose made it quite clear that he wanted me to ignore him. So I turned the other way. He pays my wages, sir. I do as he wishes.'
'Yes, yes,' said Christopher, giving him a conciliatory pat on the arm. 'You did right. I am not criticising you. I just wish you could give me a little more information, that is all. Any detail will be helpful.'
Jem scratched his head vigorously. His face was blanker than ever. Eager to help, he was quite unable to do so and his impotence annoyed him. Christopher was about to abandon the interrogation when the other man hunched his shoulders in apology.
'I am sorry, Mr Redmayne.'
'You are not to blame.'
'I saw nothing after they went down into the cellars.'
'They?' Christopher stepped closer to him. 'Are you telling me that Sir Ambrose was here with someone else?'
'Yes, sir. Another man.'
'Who was he?'
'I do not know, sir. I barely gave him a glance. I know my place.' He ran a tongue over his lips. 'Sir Ambrose was hardly likely to introduce a friend of his to a mere night- watchman. I was nothing to them.'
'Was the man old or young? Tall or short?'
Jem cudgelled his brain but it was a futile exercise. He was there to guard the site, not to keep his employer under surveillance. Nothing could be dredged up from his memory. He licked his lips again.
'He was a man, Mr Redmayne. That is all I can tell you.'
'I see.'
'Have I been any help?'
'Oh, yes,' said Christopher. 'What you have told me is invaluable. At least, I now know where Sir Ambrose was yesterday evening.' He glanced around. 'Do you have a iantern here?'
'Down by the bench, sir.'
'May I borrow it, please?'
'Why?'
'Just fetch it.'
