The Repentant Rake

    Jonathan Bale waited at the designated place and hoped that their second visit to Covent Garden would be more profitable than the first. Having set two constables the task of searching for witnesses in Faringdon Ward Within, he had returned to Addle Hill to find that Christopher had left a message for him. Responding to its request, he hurried straight off to Covent Garden and took up his position. The meeting with Sir Julius Cheever had left him feeling oddly satisfied. Though the old man lacked his Puritan restraint, they had much in common. Jonathan had been intrigued to hear how Sir Julius had marshalled his men at Worcester and at some of the battles preceding it. He could understand only too well how a man with such high moral standards would refuse to acknowledge a rakehell like Gabriel Cheever as his son. Jonathan imagined how he would feel if one of his own boys grew up to cast aside every precept he had been taught.

    Christopher Redmayne did not keep him waiting for long. Arriving on his horse, he dismounted to explain to his friend what had happened in his absence. They now had clear proof that Celia Hemmings was involved in the blackmail. When Christopher pointed out her house, Jonathan had some misgivings.

    'Let me wait outside,' he said shifting his feet. 'I am never happy in such places.'

    'I was going to suggest that you go round to the back of the house, Mr Bale. We are dealing with a slippery lady. If she tries to bolt, my guess is that it will be through the rear entrance of the house.'

    Jonathan gave a grim smile. 'I'll be waiting for her, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Do not be too gentle. The lady is an accessary to murder.'

    'I've arrested lots of women before. They sometimes fight harder than the men.'

    Christopher tethered his horse and gave the constable time to get to the back of the house. When he rang the doorbell and gave his name, he was invited into the hall at once. Hearing of his arrival, Celia Hemmings had him shown in and gave him a cordial welcome until she saw his face. She recoiled slightly at the sight of the cuts and bruises but recovered to offer her hand. Christopher took it with gallantry and brushed her fingers with a kiss.

    'This is an unlooked for pleasure, Mr Redmayne,' she said.

    'That remains to be seen, Miss Hemmings.'

    'What happened to your face?'

    'Do you really need to ask that?'

    'You look as if you've been in a brawl.'

    'I survived.'

    'I'm delighted to hear that. What exactly happened?'

    'Forget about my injuries,' he said, producing a letter from his pocket and showing it to her. 'I believe that you wrote this. It was sent to Miss Susan Cheever.'

    'Yes,' she replied warily. 'She invited me to meet her.'

    'No, Miss Hemmings. I dictated that letter to her. Miss Cheever only agreed to write it on the understanding that she would never have to come face to face with you.'

    Celia was angered. 'You dictated the letter, Mr Redmayne?'

    'It was the only way to get a sample of your handwriting,' he explained, taking out another missive. 'I wanted to compare it with the hand on this death threat to my brother. They show a remarkable similarity.'

    'A mere coincidence.'

    'I think we shall find many more coincidences before we have finished. Like the fact that you once used a strange phrase about Gabriel Cheever to me. You said that his rivals sought to defeat him at the card table, not in a dark alley.' He gave her a smile. 'We found that alley today just off Warwick Lane. How did you know that Gabriel was killed in a place like that?'

    'It was just a wild guess.'

    'Tell that to the judge.'

    'You have no evidence on which to charge me,' she said defiantly.

    'We have these two letters and the others you wrote to your victims,' he argued. 'We have the fact that your former chambermaid stole something very compromising from Lady Ulvercombe. And we now know that you went to Gabriel's funeral to gloat.'

    'I loved him.'

    'Yes, Miss Hemmings. But that love turned sour when he left you.'

    'That's not how it happened.'

    'I've heard your version,' he reminded her. 'How you bore him no malice when he dropped you like a stone and vanished from sight. That was a blatant lie. In fact, you were furious. I've seen the limits to which that fury pushed you.'

    'Have a care, Mr Redmayne,' she warned. 'You're in dangerous waters.'

    'They are far less dangerous since my good friend, Mr Bale, took your man-of-war out of the fleet. Do not look for him to come to your aid. Gabriel's killer is locked up safely in prison.'

    She leaped to her feet. 'That's impossible!'

    'He was taken outside a printer's shop in Fleet Lane. Mr Henshaw kindly pointed him out when he came there earlier today.' A hunted look came in her eyes. 'Who else was in on the conspiracy, Miss Hemmings? Who wrote the first letter to my brother, and the one to Arthur Lunn?'

    'Nobody.'

    'There must have been.'

    'No, Mr Redmayne.'

    'I've seen that foul-mouthed rogue you employed to do your killing,' he said. 'I even fought him in the dark. You and he are scarcely natural bedfellows. There has to be someone else with the wit to set this whole scheme up. Admit it.'

    'I admit nothing.'

    'That former chambermaid of yours may be more willing to speak up.'

    'Leave Hetty out of this.'

    'But she played such a crucial part. Oh, and by the way,' he remembered 'could I please have my brother's letter back? It has caused more than enough anguish to Henry.'

    'Good!'

    'Why did you pick on him? Henry has his vices but he's essentially harmless.'

    'Your brother is an idiot.'

    'No,' said Christopher defensively. 'He's a flawed man who has occasional moments of idiocy. Just like the rest of us. That includes you, Miss Hemmings. After all, you were idiotic enough to imagine that you could get away with this. Gabriel Cheever was killed to assuage your hatred of him. It's only fitting that it was his sister who helped to expose you.' He put the letters back in his pocket. 'You overreached yourself. You wrote one letter too many.'

    'What do you want?' she said icily.

    'The name of your accomplice or accomplices.'

    'There were none.'

    'Why prevaricate? You've been caught in your own trap.'

    Thinking hard, she moved in closer. 'Did you come on your own, Mr Redmayne?'

    'I did not imagine that I would need an army.'

    'Who else knows what you've just told me?'

    'That's irrelevant. I know, Miss Hemmings.'

    'How much would it cost to make you forget it for a while?'

    'Are you trying to bribe me?' he said insulted at the very notion.

    'All you have to do is look the other way.'

    'No!'

    'Not even for a hundred guineas?'

    'A thousand guineas would not afflict me with temporary blindness,' he asserted. 'Fetch my brother's unfortunate letter to a certain lady, then I'll take you to be charged.'

    Celia sagged and nodded in defeat. 'Very well. Let me call my servant,' she said. 'He knows where I keep everything.' She opened the door. 'David! Come here, please.'

    The servant who had let Christopher into the house now reappeared. He was a stolid man in his thirties with dark eyes set into a craggy face. His deferential manner suggested someone who was devoted to his