The King's Evil

interrogation which his visitor inflicted on him and Christopher felt a twinge of guilt. He adopted a softer tone.

'I am sorry to make demands which you cannot meet, Mr Anger,' he said quietly, 'but you must understand my position. Mr Creech is in possession of certain facts which will help me track down the man who killed Sir Ambrose.

That is why I must speak to him. Urgently.'

'I would value some urgent conference with him myself,' bleated the other. 'I need his approval on a dozen matters.'

'How long have you been his clerk?'

'Seven and a half years, sir.'

'Do you like the work?'

Geoffrey Anger was cautious. 'I find it very rewarding, sir.'

'Mr Creech has a high reputation.'

'He has more than earned it.'

'You must have made some contribution towards it.'

'I, sir?'

'Come, Mr Anger. I have dealt with many lawyers. They are only as good as the clerks who toil at their elbow. If you have been here so long, you must have a good insight into Mr Creech's business.'

'I like to think so.'

'Then answer me this,' said Christopher. 'Does the name of Marie Louise Oilier strike a chord in your mind?'

'I am not at liberty to discuss our clients, sir.'

'Then the lady is a client?'

'I did not say that, Mr Redmayne.'

'Then what are you saying?' pressed Christopher, reverting to a more combative approach. 'Are you telling me that you do not wish the man who murdered Sir Ambrose to be caught? Are you deliberately holding back crucial facts from me? I can see from your expression that you recognised the name. You knew that Mademoiselle Oilier was linked to the new house which was being built. Well? Did you not?'

'Yes, sir,' came the faint reply.

'And you also knew that Sir Ambrose's ship bears her name.'

'That is true.'

'Then it follows that you were privy to the relationship between this lady and your client. I have seen the letters which she wrote to him and they leave no room for doubt. The lady was his mistress.'

The clerk was shocked. 'No, sir!'

'Those missives were not penned by a nun, Mr Anger.'

'I have not seen them,' said the other. 'Nor do I wish to, sir. The fact that a lady's name is conjoined to a particular property does not of itself mean that there is some liaison between her and Sir Ambrose. He owned another house occupied by a lady yet I have heard no suggestion of impropriety between them.'

'Another house?' Christopher was intrigued. 'Do you refer to the residence in Westminster?'

'No, sir. In Lincoln's Inn Fields.'

'Sir Ambrose owned a property there? Why did he need to build a third house when he already owned two? Surely, he could have installed Mademoiselle Oilier in Lincoln's Inn Fields?'

'It was leased out to someone else.'

'Who is it?'

'Mrs Mandrake.'

'Molly Mandrake?'

'That is the lady, sir.'

Christopher needed a moment to take in the information and to remind himself that he was dealing with a man of remarkable naivety. The name of Molly Mandrake had passed across the desk of Geoffrey Anger on many occasions but he had no idea who she was or what sort of a house she kept. His blinkered life protected him from the darker pleasures of the city. The fact that someone was a client of Mr Creech was enough for him. Their character was never suspect.

Christopher marvelled at his innocence and treated him gently.

'How many other properties did Sir Ambrose own?' he said.

'Just these two, sir.'

'One in Westminster, one in Lincoln's Inn Fields.'

'And a third that was never built.'

'As I know to my cost, Mr Anger!' said Christopher ruefully. 'Did Mademoiselle Oilier ever visit this office?' 'No, sir.'

'Was Sir Ambrose a frequent caller?'

'Mr Creech always met him away from here.'

'Why was that?'

'You will have to ask him yourself, sir.'

'I intend to. What do you know of the Marie Louise!’

'Little beyond the fact that it was owned by a client of ours.'

'All of his commercial transactions must have gone through his lawyer. Were you not handling contracts for him all the time?'

'Mr Creech took care of those himself,' explained the other. 'I had no direct contact with Sir Ambrose's business affairs.'

'Was Mr Creech in the habit of keeping things from you?'

'No, sir.'

'So why was he so secretive about Sir Ambrose Northcott?'

'It is not my place to say.'

'You must have had some idea.'

'I assure you, sir, I did not.'

'Where does Mr Creech keep his papers?'

'Locked up in his office, sir.'

'Do you have a key to it?'

'No,' said the clerk. 'And even if I did, I would permit nobody to go in there without Mr Creech's express permission.'

'But there are important documents in there which I need to see,' said Christopher with irritation. 'What is to stop me breaking in now and looking for them?'

'Oh, sir! You would never do that.'

'Why not?'

Geoffrey Anger's quiet reply had a devastating power.

'You are a gentleman, sir.'

When he cut open the stomach with his scalpel, the surgeon turned away as the noisome contents poured out.

The dead man had eaten a hearty meal before he drowned and its remains were now scattered all over the stone slab on which he now lay. When the surgeon and his assistant looked back at the glutinous mess, they saw something which glinted in the light of the candles. The surgeon reached down to pick it up. After dipping it into the basin of water, he held it up to examine it.

'What was a gold ring doing in there?' he wondered.

Chapter Twelve