The Repentant Rake

caught and thanked her for her part in the ruse.

    'I did very little,' she said.

    'You did a great deal,' he told her. 'You were the one person who could have coaxed a letter out of Miss Hemmings. Had I written to her, she would have suspected a trick. You appeared to hold no threat for her. Your innocence exposed her guilt.'

    'What will happen to her, Mr Redmayne?'

    'She will stand trial with the others and suffer the same fate.'

    Susan gulped. 'A horrible way for a woman to die.'

    'Miss Hemmings brought it on herself,' said Christopher with a sigh. 'There was no hint of remorse from her. She despised your brother for the way he cast her aside and vowed to get her revenge. At least, we now have her where she belongs. I must pass on the good news to Sir Julius. Did he go back to Holborn?'

    'Yes, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Then I had better call on him now,' he said reluctant to go.

    'Will you come back here afterwards?' she asked hopefully.

    'Oh, yes. If you wish.'

    'I will count the minutes while you are gone.'

    It was the closest she had ever come to a declaration and it gave him the confidence to reach out to take her hands. Susan did not resist. Words were abandoned. They stood there for several minutes without moving. Her hands were warm. Her smile of contentment matched his own. It was Susan who broke the spell.

    'You may get to Holborn in time to meet Father's other visitor,' she said.

    'Other visitor?'

    'Yes, Mr Redmayne. He left here not long before you arrived. He said that he was an old friend of Father's and was anxious to meet him again.'

    'Did he give his name?'

    'Mr Peter Wickens.'

    Christopher was startled. 'Peter Wickens came here?'

    'Do you know the gentleman?'

    'Only through my brother,' said Christopher, his mind grappling with the news. 'How on earth did Mr Wickens realise that your father was back in London? And what brought him to this address?' he added. 'Nobody knew that Gabriel lived here.' He took her by the shoulders. 'Did you tell him where Sir Julius was staying?'

    'Yes. I saw no harm in it. Mr Wickens was very polite.'

    'I know. He has great charm when he wishes to use it.'

    'He went straight off to the King's Head.'

    'Was he on foot?'

    'No, Mr Redmayne. He came on his horse.'

    'Then I had better get after him at once,' decided Christopher, moving swiftly to the front door. 'Whatever else he is, Peter Wickens is no old friend of your father's, Miss Cheever. I believe that Sir Julius may be in danger.'

    Alone in his room, Sir Julius sat on the edge of the bed drumming his fingers impatiently on his knee. He was not used to waiting on the actions of others. Throughout his life, he had always taken the initiative and forced himself to the centre of events. His capacity for leadership and for making prompt decisions had helped his military career to take wing. Promotion had come early and he had gone on to distinguish himself repeatedly in the field. Yet he was now forced to sit in a room at the King's Head, isolated from the action, wondering what was going on and obliged to leave everything to others. His son had come back into his life in the most distressing way. As he reflected on their estrangement, he had to admit that Gabriel was not entirely to blame. It was not simply a case of youthful rebellion that took him to London. Had he shown his son more understanding, Sir Julius could have retained the friendship that had been so important to him in earlier days. He could see that he had been too intractable.

    A sharp knock on the door got him to his feet. He was cautious.

    'Who is it?' he called.

    'My name is Peter Wickens,' came the reply 'Mr Redmayne sent me.'

    'You have a message for me?'

    'Yes, Sir Julius.'

    Unbolting the door, Sir Julius flung it open in the hope of hearing good news. Instead of that, he had a pistol held against his forehead. Wickens pushed him back into the room and closed the door behind him. He guided his captive to a chair. When Sir Julius sat down, Wickens took a step back to appraise him, keeping the pistol aimed at his head. Sir Julius was more curious than afraid.

    'Who are you?' he demanded.

    'I was a friend of your son, Gabriel,' said Wickens. 'In my view, he was the only good thing to come out of the Cheever family, but we had to kill him none the less.'

    Sir Julius was horrified. 'You killed my son?'

    'Not exactly but I was there when it happened. Just to make sure that he was dead, I ran him through with my sword.' He gave a mocking smile. 'He died quite peacefully.'

    'You devil!' said Sir Julius, trying to get up. When the pistol was placed against his skull again, he lowered himself back into his seat. 'What do you want, Mr Wickens?'

    'It's called revenge.'

    'Against me?'

    'Against you and your family, Sir Julius,' said Wickens, stepping back again. 'I came to like Gabriel or I would have killed him much sooner. He bore a name that I've been taught to hate. Then he told me how much he loathed the famous Colonel Cheever and

    I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I spared him until I heard that his father had ambitions to enter Parliament.'

    'It's a foregone conclusion.'

    'Not any more. I could not have you moving to London and living under my nose. The stench would offend my nostrils.'

    'Do you always talk with a pistol in your hand, Mr Wickens?' said Julius, icily calm. 'Put it aside and we can have a proper conversation.'

    Wickens gave a sneer. 'You once had a proper conversation with my brother.'

    'Did I?'

    'His name was Michael Wickens,' said the other. 'Not a name that you would recall, I dare say, because he was only one of many people you killed on the battlefield. Witnesses told me that Michael was shot from close range by a Colonel Cheever. Do you remember the carnage at the Battle of Worcester?'

    'That war is over and done with, sir.'

    'Not as far as I'm concerned.'

    'I fought hard for my side just as your brother must have fought nobly for his.'

    'But you are still alive,' said Wickens darkly. 'Michael is not.' He held the pistol within a foot of his captive's head. 'I felt it only right that you should know why I arranged to have your son murdered and why you must follow him to the grave. Say your prayers, Sir Julius. You are going to join your Maker.'

    Sir Julius closed his eyes and heard the other's soft laughter. He could not believe that he was being called to account for an unremembered incident in the heat of a battle that took place many years before. Evidently, it was remembered only too well by Peter Wickens.

    'You chose an appropriate place, Sir Julius.'

    Sir Julius opened his eyes. 'What do you mean?'

    'The King's Head. Where better for a traitor who helped to remove a king's head to lose his own life? Farewell, Sir Julius. Go off to join the Lord Protector in Hell.'

    He levelled the pistol and took careful aim. Before he could pull the trigger, however, the door burst open and Christopher

    Redmayne came hurtling into the room. Wickens was momentarily distracted. Seeing his chance, Sir Julius