'We have already dined, Sir Julius,' said Lucy sweetly, 'but you are welcome to refreshment after your journey.'
'No, thank you,' he said. 'I seem to have lost my appetite lately.'
'So have I.'
'What I would like to do, with your permission, is to stay here awhile.'
'Please do, Sir Julius.'
'Yes,' said Susan without enthusiasm. 'It will give us an opportunity to catch up on your news. Does Brilliana know that you are back in London?'
'No. Nor must she at this stage.'
'Why not?' asked Lucy innocently.
'My elder daughter behaved very badly after the funeral,' said Sir Julius. 'I will not easily forgive her for that. Fortunately, her husband had the sense to take her back to Richmond. I never thought I'd be grateful to Lancelot Serle but I am. He did the right thing. I'm grateful to the fellow and - dare I admit it? - profoundly sorry for him, being married to someone like Brilliana.'
'He was very kind to me,' recalled Lucy.
'Lancelot is a very considerate man,' said Susan.
'That may be,' agreed Sir Julius gruffly, 'but he is still a dolt and best left down in Richmond until this whole business is settled.' He slapped his knee. 'This inaction will be the death of me. I was not meant to sit around and do nothing. I want to join in the hunt. Where is Mr Redmayne? I want the latest news.'
It was the ideal place for a tryst. Situated in a quiet lane not far from Charing Cross, the house was small, neat and indistinguishable from those either side of it. When he first saw the building, Christopher Redmayne felt a slight flush of guilt. Its very anonymity had recommended the house to his brother as a place in which to further his romance with Lady Ulvercombe. Assignations had taken place there over a brief period. Looking at it now, Christopher wondered yet again why Henry permitted himself to get drawn into such entanglements. They invariably ended in sorrow. This particular relationship might have even more serious consequences. Christopher was mildly embarrassed that he was put in the position of trying to rescue his brother from the ire of a cuckolded husband. He was not looking forward to the task but somebody had to take it on.
When he gave his surname at the door, he was admitted at once. It was only when he stood in the hall and removed his hat that the servant was able to take a close look at him. After flinching at the sight of his injured face, the man became suspicious.
'You are not Mr Henry Redmayne, sir,' he said.
'I am his brother, Christopher.'
'Is Lady Ulvercombe expecting you?'
'Tell her that I have come on Henry's behalf.'
The man's eyes clouded with doubt and he disappeared for a long time. Christopher feared that Lady Ulvercombe would refuse to see him and he would be sent ignominiously on his way. It made him even more self- conscious. He glanced at the staircase, wondering how many times his brother had climbed it with his fleeting conquest. When the servant reappeared, he warned Christopher that he would be seen on sufferance. It was evident from his tone that Lady Ulvercombe was very annoyed that Henry had not come in person. Steeling himself, Christopher went into the parlour.
She was standing beside the window that overlooked the garden, choosing a position where the light fell on her to best advantage. Lady Ulvercombe was a tall, stately woman in her thirties who paid meticulous attention to her appearance. She had the kind of glacial beauty that reminded him of Brilliana Cheever but her immaculate attire marked her superior social status. When she turned to Christopher, she wrinkled her nose at the sight of his face.
'I apologise for my appearance, Lady Ulvercombe,' he said politely, 'but I was attacked in the street last night.'
She was unsympathetic. 'Did you bear any resemblance to your brother
'Unable to come.'
'Does he not understand the importance of the summons?'
'Only too well, Lady Ulvercombe. He was aware that the letter had gone astray.'
'How?'
'Henry is being blackmailed.'
Her poise wavered. 'Somebody has the letter?' she asked. 'That was my fear.'
'It is causing my brother rather more than fear,' said Christopher. 'If you would care to sit down, I will explain. These injuries you see,' he added, indicating his face, 'are a small part of the explanation.'
'Henry should be here to give it in person.'
'Bear with me, Lady Ulvercombe, and you will understand why he is not.'
She regarded him with a blend of interest and unease. His bearing was impressive and his voice persuasive but she was distressed that he knew about an item of intimate correspondence. If his brother had confided in him, then he had to be trustworthy, she hoped but she would need reassurance on that score. Crossing to a chair, she lowered herself into it and assumed another pose. Christopher had a vision of Henry and his mistress together, preening themselves in front of each other and attaching far more importance to outward show than to any emotional commitment. He took a seat.
'It is a long story, I fear,' he began.
'Must I hear it all?' she sighed.
'It started with a brutal murder, Lady Ulvercombe.'
She jerked backwards in alarm. Having secured her attention, he did not pause. He described the circumstances of Gabriel Cheever's death and, while refraining from giving any names, told her of the people who were being blackmailed by means of extracts from a secret diary. In showing her that the disappearance of her letter was only one detail in a much larger picture, Christopher expected to shake her self-absorption but he was mistaken. All that concerned her was her own situation.
'I have never met this Gabriel Cheever,' she said haughtily. 'Who was he?'
'A friend of my brother's.'
'His death is unfortunate but irrelevant to me.'
'I would dispute that, Lady Ulvercombe.'
'Is there any reference to me in his scandalous diary?'
'Not as far as I know.'
'Then let us forget it, Mr Redmayne,' she insisted, 'and turn our attention to the missing letter. Did Henry give you any indication as to its contents?'
'He did not need to, Lady Ulvercombe,' said Christopher with gallantry. 'I have only to look at you to understand the nature of the communication. Henry was rightly devoted to you.' His flattery drew a thin smile from her. 'The important thing now is to save your reputation.'
'I could not agree more.'
'To do that, I need to ask some personal questions.'
'Not too personal, I trust,' she warned.
'Where was the letter kept, Lady Ulvercombe?'
'I have a small cabinet in my bedchamber.'
'Is the cabinet locked?'
'Most of the time.'
'Did you ever take the missive out to read it through?'
'Really, sir!' she rebuked. 'What a lady does with her keepsakes is her own affair. If your questioning is to take this turn, I'll no more of it.'
'I'm sorry, Lady Ulvercombe,' he said. 'I'm simply trying to establish when it went astray. It was well over a week ago that Henry received the blackmail demand. Think back, if you will. Were you absent from the house for any period of time?'
She pondered. 'As a matter of fact, we were.'
