The Repentant Rake

mistress.

    'Yes, Miss Hemmings?' he enquired.

    Her tone changed. 'Mr Redmayne's behaviour is highly offensive to me,' she said harshly. 'Please show him off the premises.'

    'At once.' He turned to Christopher. 'This way, sir.'

    'Miss Hemmings and I are leaving together,' said Christopher.

    'I think not, sir.'

    The servant took a firm grip on his arm to march him out. Explanations were pointless. He would not listen to anything Christopher said. His job was simply to obey orders. Wrenching his arm free, Christopher swung round and saw that Celia had already quit the room by means of another door. When he tried to open it, he found that it was locked. He also had the problem of a strong man grabbing his shoulders from behind. Violent action was required. He had no quarrel with the servant but David was now trying to force him across the room. Christopher resisted, trod hard on the man's toe then pushed him over when he hopped in agony on one foot. Before the servant could recover, Christopher caught him on the jaw with a solid punch and dazed him sufficiently to make good his escape. Dashing into the hall, he went out towards the rear of the house until he found a way into the garden. He ran down the path and let himself out through the door in the garden wall.

    Jonathan Bale was waiting for him with a squirming Celia Hemmings in his arms.

    Christopher grinned. 'I forgot to mention that Mr Bale was with me,' he said.

    Henry Redmayne was a self-appointed angel of mercy. Having been given the wondrous news, he wanted to share it with his fellow victims so that they, too, could celebrate their escape from the horror of blackmail. The home of Arthur Lunn was his first port of call and his friend embraced him warmly when he heard the good tidings. Sir Marcus Kemp was even more relieved, bursting into tears and hugging Henry so tightly that he feared for the safety of his coat buttons. When he rode off to visit Peter Wickens, there was still a damp patch on his shoulder from the unmanly display of weeping. Two victims had been delighted with his news. Henry expected a similar reception from Peter Wickens. Shown in to see his friend, he struck a pose and beamed inanely.

    'How are you, Peter?' he asked.

    'Worried,' said Wickens. 'Deeply worried.'

    'Have you paid the blackmail demand yet?'

    'No, but I intend to do so.'

    'There is no need my friend. I'm here to save you five hundred guineas.'

    'How?'

    'By giving you the glad tidings that the plot against us has foundered' said Henry. 'My brother called on me not an hour ago.

    One of the villains is already in prison and Christopher was on his way with a constable to arrest his accomplice.'

    Wickens was taken aback. 'His accomplice?'

    'Yes, Peter. Prepare yourself for a shock.'

    'Why?'

    'It was Celia Hemmings. Actually,' said Henry airily, 'I suspected her all the time. Celia was the only woman who stayed with Gabriel long enough to have access to that diary of this. She knew exactly how profitable it might be.'

    'On what evidence was she arrested?' pressed Wickens.

    'My brother used a simple ruse. He asked Gabriel's sister to write to Celia and suggest that they met. Celia refused but those few lines that she dashed off in reply sealed her doom. The handwriting matches exactly that on the second letter sent to me.'

    'That was clever of your brother.'

    'He takes after me.'

    'What about this man who was taken?'

    'Christopher set a trap for him outside a printer's shop in Fleet Lane,' said Henry. 'When the man turned up to get some more extracts from the diary printed he was ambushed by two constables.'

    'I see,' said Wickens thoughtfully. 'Did the man name his accomplices?'

    'No, he was a surly beggar. Christopher could get nothing out of him.'

    'Then how did he track down Celia Hemmings?'

    'Ask him yourself, Peter. The point is that you, Arthur, Sir Marcus and I have been set free at last. Look more cheerful, man,' he urged. 'Are you not pleased?'

    'Delighted,' said Wickens, forcing a smile.

    'You see now how wise I was to argue against paying any money to them.'

    'I thought that was your brother's counsel.'

    'Mine, too,' boasted Henry. 'I held firm against the blackguards. Like you, I did not give them a single penny.' He emitted a high laugh. 'But poor Sir Marcus parted with a thousand guineas. I left him wondering if he would ever get it back.'

    Stroking his chin, Wickens moved aside for a moment, deep in meditation. When he turned back to Henry, he manufactured a broad grin and patted his friend on the arm.

    'Thank you for telling me, Henry. It was kind of you to come.'

    'We must all celebrate tonight with Mrs Curtis and her girls.'

    'Yes, yes,' said Wickens without enthusiasm. 'A capital notion.'

    'By that time,' said Henry, 'everyone involved in the plot will be locked up behind bars. Christopher will soon get the truth out of Celia Hemmings. I doubt if she'll enjoy the stink of a prison cell. They are not too fastidious in Newgate.'

    'Quite so.'

    'Sir Julius Cheever was overjoyed when they caught the man who killed Gabriel. Wait until he and his accomplices are hanged' said Henry. 'I'll wager that Sir Julius will be at the front of the crowd.'

    Wickens was interested. 'Is he in London at the moment?'

    'Apparently. My brother met him at the house in Knightrider Street where Gabriel used to live with his wife. She'll be relieved by the turn of events as well.'

    'Yes, Henry.'

    'It's a golden day for all of us.'

    'So it seems.'

    Henry rubbed his hands. 'Shall we join Arthur and Sir Marcus?'

    'You go on ahead,' said Wickens, easing him towards the door. 'I'll join the three of you later. I have some business to attend to first then I'll carouse with you until dawn.'

    'We can raise a glass in memory of Gabriel.'

    'We will indeed.'

    'The repentant rake.'

    Celia Hemmings proved to be an unhelpful prisoner. Confronted with irrefutable evidence of her guilt, she responded with angry denials and refused to name any accomplices. Christopher was disappointed. Someone involved in the plot was still at large and he was no nearer identifying that person or, in point of fact, the man who was already in custody. There was one compensation from the visit to Covent Garden. He now had his brother's billet-doux in his pocket. Jonathan Bale's presence had deterred the servant from any further heroics on behalf of his mistress and the visitors had been able to enter the house to retrieve Henry's letter. What worried Christopher was that there was no sign of Gabriel's diary. He decided that it must still be in the hands of an unknown accomplice and might yet be a source of danger to those whose misdeeds the nascent author had chronicled in such detail.

    While Jonathan took charge of the prisoner, Christopher went back to Knightrider Street to report the latest success. He was in luck. Susan Cheever not only answered the door, she explained that her sister-in-law had retired early to bed. She and Christopher were alone again. Her affection for him was more obvious than ever and his fondness for her kept a permanent smile on his face. Christopher explained how Celia Hemmings had been