The Repentant Rake

    'Yes. She was waiting for me in the street. After we left her this afternoon, Mrs Cheever asked the maid to search the house more thoroughly to see if anything was taken. It was, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Go on.'

    'Some of Mr Cheever's papers were missing.'

    'I knew it!' said Christopher.

    Jonathan was puzzled. 'You did? How?'

    'This is not the time to explain. Suffice it to say that Gabriel Cheever had written something that could be a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands. Thank you, Mr Bale,' he said effusively 'I'm so grateful that you brought this information.'

    'I felt that it might be important.'

    'It is crucial.'

    'Good,' said Jonathan. 'My visit to Mrs Runciman was worthwhile.'

    He bade farewell and set off down the street with his long stride. Christopher watched him until he was swallowed up by the darkness, then closed the front door and withdrew into the house. Before he could retire to bed, however, he was detained yet again.

    The clatter of hooves made him prick up his ears. Someone was riding along Fetter Lane at speed. When he heard the horse being reined in outside his door, he knew that he had another visitor. Christopher opened the door to see his brother dismounting from the saddle. Henry was almost out of breath.

    'Thank goodness you are here, Christopher!' he exclaimed.

    'Why? What ails you?'

    'I'm being followed.'

    'By whom?' said Christopher, looking up and down the empty street. 'I see nobody. Your imagination is playing tricks on you, Henry.'

    'There was someone, I tell you. He has been on my tail every inch of the way.'

    'You've shaken him off now.'

    'Only because I've found sanctuary,' said Henry, glancing over his shoulder. 'He is probably hiding in the shadows somewhere. Let me come in.'

    'At this hour?'

    'Please. I must.'

    'As you wish. Tether your horse by the stable.'

    A minute later, Henry stepped gratefully into the house and shut the door behind him. Christopher took him into the dining room, lit some more candles then passed a bottle of brandy to Henry. His brother poured some into a glass and drank it down.

    'I needed that,' he said.

    'You're shaking all over.'

    'You would shake if you had an assassin stalking you.'

    'Is that what you think he was?'

    'What else could he be?' asked Henry impatiently. 'I receive a death threat and someone follows me home in the dark. Even you must see a link between those two events, Christopher.'

    'A possible link,' conceded his brother.

    'Possible enough for me. I'll go no further tonight.'

    'You must, Henry.'

    'I'll stay the night here. Have Jacob prepare a room for me.'

    'Jacob is fast asleep in bed.'

    'Then rouse him from his dreams at once,' ordered Henry.

    'Damn it, man! I'm your brother. My safety surely comes before your servant's comfort.'

    'Of course, but I already have guests here. There's no room to spare.'

    'Guests?'

    'Sir Julius Cheever and his younger daughter.'

    Henry was indignant. 'Are they being preferred over me as well?'

    'It is not a question of preference,' said Christopher soothingly, 'but of expedience. They came to London to identify Gabriel's body. I could hardly turn them away.'

    'Why not? You turn me away.'

    'That's not what I'm doing. Stay if you must, Henry. I'll even surrender my own bed to you, if it means so much to you. All I am saying is that this is not the most convenient time. You must appreciate that.'

    'Why talk of convenience when my life is at stake?' complained Henry.

    'Hush!' said Christopher with a finger to his lips. 'You'll wake them. I promise you this. If you're too nervous to continue on home yourself, I'll act as your bodyguard and deliver you safely to Bedford Street.' He patted his brother's arm. 'Now, why not tell me exactly what happened tonight and why you believe that you are being followed?' He indicated the bottle. 'Help yourself to more brandy.'

    Henry was slightly mollified. After draining his glass, he poured himself another drink then launched into his tale. His evening at the gaming house had been extended well into the night by Sir Marcus Kemp, who refused to quit the table while he was winning. Banking on his friend's company, Henry had eventually been forced to ride home alone and found that someone was lurking outside to trail him.

    'The villain might have struck at any moment!' he concluded.

    'Then why didn't he?'

    'He was biding his time.'

    'It's more likely that he was thinking twice about attacking you when he saw that you carried a sword. You called him an assassin,' said Christopher reasonably, 'but he could just as easily have been a robber, waiting to pounce on some unwary gentleman who was rolling home alone with too much drink inside him.' He gave a smile. 'Or he might just have been someone travelling harmlessly in the same direction as you.'

    'There was nothing harmless about this man, Christopher.'

    'How do you know?'

    'I could feel his menace.'

    'Henry, you would feel menaced if a cat followed you home.'

    'That's a heartless thing to say!' protested Henry. 'Do you want your brother to be stabbed in the back only yards from his own front door?'

    'No,' said Christopher, 'but then, that would never happen. Why wait until you reach Bedford Street before attacking you when you've already ridden past a dozen more suitable places for an ambush? Nobody is trying to kill you, Henry. I am sure of that.'

    'You saw that letter.'

    'It achieved what it intended. To give you a fright.'

    'It certainly did that. I've had enough, Christopher.'

    'Enough?'

    'I'm inclined to pay the money and have done with the whole thing!'

    'That's the last thing you must do.'

    'My life is more important to me than five hundred guineas.'

    'But that will not buy you peace of mind,' asserted Christopher. 'It's only a first instalment. When he's squeezed one payment out of you, the blackmailer will have you at his mercy. The demands will never cease.'

    'The first letter promised that they would.'

    'How much faith can you put in the word of a man like that?'

    Henry was still trembling. 'It's the only hope I have of staying alive.'

    'That death threat was hollow,' said Christopher positively. 'I'm certain of it.'

    'Gabriel Cheever was killed because he did not pay what was demanded;

    'No, Henry. There was no attempted blackmail where Gabriel was concerned.'

    'How do you know?'

    'Because I have learned something about his literary endeavours,' said Christopher. 'Gabriel came to London to fulfil his ambition of being an author. He was very talented. As well as writing poems and plays, however,