The King's Evil

'That is a matter of opinion,' said Christopher with a tolerant smile. 'I just hope that the name of Mrs Mandrake does not come to Father's ears. I doubt that he would appreciate her architectural pre-eminence. But enough of the lady,' he continued. 'I will have to ask Mr Bale to take a look at her establishment in my absence.'

'Mr Bale? Is that the constable you have mentioned?'

'Yes, Henry. A staunch fellow. Jonathan Bale is a dour Roundhead but as solid as a rock for all that. He and I have been working together. I sail from Deptford tomorrow on the morning tide. While I am in France, he can follow up other lines of enquiry here.'

'And what of me?'

'Study Sir Ambrose's political enemies more closely.'

'I am talking of my safety. What must I do?'

'Go armed, brother.'

'I will, I will.'

'And do not venture near the river on your own.'

'I will immure myself in my house.'

'There is no need for that,' said Christopher. 'Sensible precautions will suffice. And you must go to Court. How else can you keep a wary eye on those politicians?'

When he left the Navy Office, he was confident for the first time that Henry had been completely honest with him.

Christopher collected his horse and rode to Addle Hill to acquaint Jonathan Bale with what he had just learned and to suggest that he kept a certain house in Lincoln's Inn Fields under surveillance. The constable accepted the assignment with some reluctance then surprised Christopher by warning him to look after himself while in France.

'I will, Mr Bale. We reach Calais on Sunday.'

'Desperate men do not respect the Sabbath.' 'Nor do desperate women,' said Christopher with a grin. 'I suspect that activity will continue unabated in Lincoln's Inn Fields. If your feet take you in that direction, you may learn something of interest.'

'I am no Peeping Tom, sir.'

'We must both look through keyholes if we are to get to the bottom of this, Mr Bale. I must find Mademoiselle Oilier and you must renew your friendship with Mrs Mandrake.'

'The lady is no friend of mine.'

'In time she might become one,' advised Christopher mischievously.

'A century would not suffice,' said Jonathan proudly. 'I am a married man and more than happy with my lot.'

'You have every right to be. Mrs Bale is a delightful woman.'

'Then no more jests, sir.'

'I am sorry if I appear to treat the matter lightly,' said the other seriously, 'for I am in earnest. The bedchamber seems to have been the natural milieu of Sir Ambrose Northcott. Neither of us must shrink from peeping into it.'

'Necessity will dictate.'

Jonathan showed him to the door and waited while he mounted.

'Good luck, sir!'

'Thank you, Mr Bale.'

'When will I hear from you again?'

'As soon as may be. Farewell!'

Christopher rode off through the darkening streets, pondering the mystery of Jonathan Bale. The investigation which had drawn the two of them together allowed him to see the constable's merits and compassion yet some kind of impassable barrier remained between them. Sarah Bale was open and friendly towards him but her husband was somehow unable to follow her example. Christopher wondered why.

Speculation took him all the way back to Fetter Lane where he stabled his horse and came round to the front of the house. He was just about to go inside when he saw a coach lurching up the street out of the gloom. His spirits soared as he recognised it as belonging to Penelope Northcott. He waited until the coachman brought the vehicle to a halt then reached out to open the door for her, smiling broadly in welcome.

But it was George Strype who glared out at him. He was the sole passenger and he took note of Christopher's evident disappointment.

'Were you expecting someone else, Mr Redmayne?' he asked.

'No, Mr Strype.'

'I see that you remember my name.'

'I can hardly forget it.'

'You seem to have forgotten that it is linked with the name of Penelope Northcott,' said the other pointedly. 'She and I are engaged to be married. I take a dim view of any man who lures my betrothed into spending a night beneath his roof.'

Christopher tried to douse the man's smouldering anger.

'Perhaps you would care to step inside my house,' he said with great courtesy. 'We can discuss this like gentlemen and I promise you that I will be able to put your mind at rest.'

'I did not come here to discuss anything with you, Mr Redmayne.'

'Then what is the purpose of this visit?'

'To retrieve those letters.'

'Miss Northcott entrusted them to me.'

'She now wants them back.'

'I beg leave to doubt that.'

'Give me the letters, man!'

'They are valuable evidence. I need them.'

'Miss Northcott wishes to have them back!'

'Do you have a written request to that effect?'

'Of course not.'

'Then I will not return them.'

'She empowered me to speak on her behalf.'

'I find that unlikely, Mr Strype,' said Christopher evenly. 'When the letters first came to light, Miss Northcott chose to keep their existence from you. I can see why.'

'Damn you, man! Hand them over.'

'Not unless she comes here in person.'

'Must I take those letters from you?'

George Strype hauled himself up and stood menacingly in the doorway of the coach, back crouched and head thrust forward. One hand closed on his sword and he drew it halfway from its sheath. Christopher did not move an inch. When their eyes locked, his were glistening with quiet determination.

'You are most welcome to try to take them, Mr Strype,' he said.

His pugnacious visitor ducked out of the coach then paused on the step when he saw that Christopher did not budge. He was almost inviting attack. Strype noticed his hand, resting on the handle of his own sword with the nonchalance of a man who knew how to use the weapon. The prospect of a duel in the street suddenly lost all appeal. There was a long pause while the visitor reviewed the situation. With a snort of anger, George Strype then stepped back into the coach and slammed the door behind him. Christopher gave him a cheery wave.

'I will return!' warned Strype.

Then he ordered the coachman to drive off.

Arresting prostitutes was not a duty Jonathan Bale ever enjoyed. He did not mind the violent altercations which often ensued; but the propositions troubled him. Many women whom he apprehended tried to buy their