The King's Evil

and with good cause.'

'Do they have any idea who killed him?'

'Not yet. I believe that he is the second victim of the same man. First Sir Ambrose, and now his lawyer. How many more victims must there be before you start to help me?'

'I have helped you,' stuttered the other.

'Only fitfully.'

'Tell me more about Creech. How was he found?'

Christopher recapitulated the facts and watched his brother's reaction carefully. To his credit, Henry was genuinely remorseful and he managed to say a few kind words about Solomon Creech by way of a valedictory tribute even though he had never liked the man.

'How did you learn of this, Christopher?'

'I was at Mr Creech's office when the ring was brought.'

'It must have made his clerk turn white with fear.'

'He almost fainted at the sight of it, Henry, but he was able to confirm whose it was and how it came to be in such an unlikely place.'

'Did he have any idea why his employer was murdered?'

'None whatsoever.'

'Do you?' 'Oh, yes,' said Christopher. 'I think he was killed because of his close association with Sir Ambrose Northcott. Nobody knew as much about his business affairs and his private life as Solomon Creech. Some of that information was too dangerous to leave in his possession. That is why he had to be silenced.'

'Is this fact or supposition?'

'A blend of both.'

'So you could be wildly wrong?'

'I could be, Henry. But my instinct tells me otherwise. However, let me come back to you,' he said, fixing his brother with a stare. 'You lied to me about receiving a percentage of my fee and you lied to me about the real purpose behind the building of that house. Why?'

'I did not lie, Christopher. I merely withheld the truth.'

'It amounts to the same thing.'

'Oh, no. There is a subtle distinction.'

'I shall be grateful if you can explain it to me.'

'A lie is a deliberate act of deception,' said Henry, 'and I would never knowingly foist one on my brother. If, on the other hand, I felt there was something which he had no real need to know, I would conceal it.'

'Such as your theft from me.'

'It was not a theft, Christopher. It was fair payment.'

'For what?'

'I do not want to have that argument all over again,' said the other, waving an irritable hand. 'Put it behind us and concentrate on what brought you here. Why did I not tell you about Marie Louise Oilier? Simple. Because it was none of your business.'

'It was, Henry.'

'In what way? Does it matter if Sir Ambrose intended to share that house with his lawful wife or with a harem of naked women? He could have leased it out to a tribe of piccaninnies with rings through their noses and flowers in their hair. He hired you as an architect, not as a parish priest.'

'I still feel that you might have mentioned it to me.' 'Sir Ambrose chose you precisely because I did not need to mention such matters to you. It was a first condition of hiring you. He insisted on absolute discretion.'

'That was beforehand,' Christopher reminded him. 'Once he was dead, there was no need to hide the truth from me. It would have saved me valuable time if I heard about Marie Louise Oilier from you and not from another source.'

'What other source?'

'It does not matter.'

'I want to know.'

'Well, I am not in a position to tell you.'

'Ah, I see,' said Henry with a lift of his eyebrow. 'You accuse me of concealing information yet you are happy to do so yourself. There is one rule for me and another for Christopher Redmayne. What is your purpose'

'I am trying to protect my brother's life.'

Sudden panic. 'My life?'

'Do you not realise that it may be at risk?'

'No. Why should it be? I have done nothing wrong.'

'You were an intimate of Sir Ambrose Northcott's. That may be enough. We are dealing with a ruthless killer, Henry. If his motive is revenge, he may not stop at Sir Ambrose's lawyer. Close friends could be his next targets.'

'Why?' gulped Henry.

'Perhaps you know too much. Like Solomon Creech.'

'I know nothing!'

'Be honest, Henry.'

'Sir Ambrose was a chance acquaintance, that is all.'

'Yet he entrusted you with secrets denied to others,' reasoned Christopher. 'To his wife and daughter, for instance. You shared his passion for gambling and for women. You dined with him, discussed the affairs of the day with him, even went to Court with him. That is more than a chance acquaintanceship, Henry.'

'You really think that I am in danger?'

'Until this villain is caught.'

'What must I do, Christopher?'

'Be more truthful with me. The longer you hold back secrets, the more you imperil yourself. I need to know everything about your relationship with Sir Ambrose, especially where the new house is concerned. It is no accident that he was murdered on the premises. That property had a vital significance. Help me to find out what it was.'

'How?'

'Go back to the start, Henry. Tell me how and when Sir Ambrose first decided to commission another house. Why did he choose that site? And how did you persuade him that your brother was the ideal architect for him to employ on the project?'

Henry sat back down again to gather his thoughts. Having failed to get the answers he wanted, Christopher had decided to frighten them out of him. He did not really believe that his brother was at risk but it was the only way to ensure his full co-operation.

His ruse worked. Important new information gushed out of Henry in a continuous stream and further aspects of the character of Sir Ambrose Northcott were laid bare. Henry knew far more about the man's political activities than he had hitherto disclosed and, it transpired, had once sailed with him in the Marie Louise. When the confession came to an end, Christopher told him the one thing about his friend which he obviously did not know. Henry paled.

'Sir Ambrose owned that house in Lincoln's Inn Fields?'

'I had it on good authority.'

'Why did he never tell me?' said Henry, wounded that such a fact had been kept from him. 'We went there several times together yet he never even hinted that he was the owner. I always assumed that the house belonged to Molly Mandrake.'

'What sort of an establishment is it?'

'A wondrous edifice in every way.' A beatific smile spread over Henry's face. 'We were fortunate enough to see Molly Mandrake in her prime. What a truly extraordinary woman! The most remarkable piece of architecture in London. Such symmetry, such proportions!'

'I will take your word for it, Henry.'

'She would inspire any artist.'