'Yes, Mr Bale,' said Christopher. 'Before I call on my brother, I will find the quickest way to sail to France. I am convinced that the answers we seek lie with Marie Louise Oilier or with the ship that carries her name. Sunday will find me working hard to track down a killer. Is that a sinful labour on the Sabbath?'
'No, Mr Redmayne.'
'Would you arrest me for it?'
'Only if you fail.'
'Why on earth did you not tell me about this, Penelope!' he yelled.
'Because you would have obstructed me.'
'And quite rightly so. You had no business to come here.'
'I believed that I did. Mother agreed with me.'
'Lady Northcott was distraught over your father's death. When she urged you to come to London, she did not know what she was doing.'
'Yes, she did, George.'
'It was madness, to go driving off like that.'
'We both felt that it was imperative.'
'You should have discussed it with me first.'
'Why?'
'Because I am your fiancee! I have certain rights.'
'You do not have the right to stop me coming here.'
'I would have persuaded you of the folly of your action.'
'It was not folly. Those letters were vital evidence. I had to put them into Mr Redmayne's hands as soon as possible.'
'That was the last thing you should have done, Penelope.'
George Strype was puce with rage. Having ridden to London in pursuit of her, he had found Penelope at the Westminster house. It irked him that she was showing no regrets about her intemperate action. Making an effort to control his temper, he guided her across to a settle and sat beside her on it. He took her hand to give it a conciliatory kiss.
'Listen to me,' he said softly. 'When you accepted my proposal of marriage, we agreed that there would be no deception between us. We would be completely open with each other. Do you remember that?'
'Yes, George.'
'Then why have you gone back on that promise?'
'I was forced to,' she said.
'Why?'
'Because I was afraid of you.'
'Afraid? Of the man who loves you?' He stroked her hand. 'What afflicts you, Penelope? You need never be afraid of me.'
'You would have stopped me coming to London.'
'Yes,' he argued, 'but for your own good. Do you not see that? When you found those letters, it must have been a dreadful shock for you. I can understand that. But your father is dead now. His ugly secret belongs in the grave with him. The last thing you should have done was to expose it to the public gaze.'
'I merely showed the letters to Mr Redmayne.'
'It amounts to the same thing.'
'No, George. I can trust him to be discreet.'
'He is not family. I am - or soon will be. And my instinct is to close ranks in a case like this. In betraying Lady Northcott, your father made an appalling mistake. I admit that. But,' he insisted, squeezing her hand, 'that mistake should be buried in the past where it belongs. Think of the shame it might otherwise cause.'
'I was prepared to withstand that shame.'
'Well, I am not.'
'Mother and I discussed it.' 'Without me.'
'We put our faith in Mr Redmayne.'
'But I do not!' he roared, leaping to his feet. 'Christopher Redmayne has no cause to poke his nose into this. What is he? An architect, that is all. A man whose task is to design houses. Why does he presume to set himself up as an officer of the law? We want no bungling amateur.'
'He is trying to discover my father's murderer and needs all the help he can get.'
'Not from me!'
'How else can the culprit be arrested?'
'This investigation should be left to the proper authorities.'
'Mr Redmayne is working with a constable.'
'Dear God!' wailed Strype. 'Another pair of eyes peering into our private affairs! How many more people will see those letters, Penelope? You might as well have taken them to a printer and had copies made to be sold at every street corner!'
'Why are you so concerned, George?'
'Someone has to protect your father's reputation.'
'What reputation?'
'The one that the world sees.' He took her by the shoulders. 'What your father did was unforgivable, Penelope. In our eyes, his reputation has been badly tarnished. But we do not need to spread his peccadilloes abroad. We keep them hidden from public gaze. Everyone then benefits. Let me be candid,' he told her seriously. 'I want to marry into an unblemished family, not one which is pointed at and sniggered over. Do you understand me?'
'Only too well, George.'
'We have to exercise common sense.'
'Is it common sense to suppress evidence in a murder inquiry?'
'The family name must always come first.'
'You mean that George Strype must always come first,' she said angrily, brushing his hands away as she got up. 'It is disgraceful! You are less worried about catching a man who killed my father than you are about your own position here.'
'Our own position, Penelope. Do you want to begin a marriage with this kind of scandal sticking to us? No, of course not. You have too much pride. Too much self- respect.' He paced the room in thought. 'I must find a way to retrieve the situation in which you and your mother have so foolishly landed us.' He snapped his fingers. 'The first thing is to get those letters back.'
'But I gave them to Mr Redmayne.'
'Mistakenly.'
'He said that they were vital clues.'
'I am not interested in what Mr Redmayne said. It is high time that someone put him in his place. His duty was done when he brought the news of Sir Ambrose's death. We do not need him any more.'
'I do,' she said quietly.
He turned to stare at her. 'What did you say?'
'I trust Mr Redmayne.'
'I heard more than trust in your voice, Penelope.'
'Did you?'
'Is that the way the wind blows?' he asked with suspicion. 'Can you have developed an interest in the fellow on so slight an acquaintance?'
'I look upon him as a friend.'
'How did you know where to find this friend?'
'He gave me his address when he came to Priestfield Place.'
'Did he, indeed?'
