Humphrey Godden listened with growing unease. A chevron of anxiety appeared on his brow and he began to grind his teeth. The strange appearance at his house of his erstwhile friend was now explained. What he could not accept was the suggestion that the man might be responsible for the murder.
'James was something of a scoundrel - we all accepted that - but he was not a malicious person. When you see a man in his cups,' he argued, 'you have a good idea of his true character, and he was the soul of joviality.'
'He was not very jovial when he made his escape from me.'
'I can see why. You tore away his mask.'
'Who was the man behind it, Sir Humphrey? That's what I wish to know.' 'A knave and an imposter, perhaps - but not a killer.'
'Mr Redmayne would dispute that,' said Jonathan. 'He feels that he was the victim of a murderous attack by your friend. When Mr Redmayne was standing on the riverbank, he was pushed into the water by someone who did not wish him to come out again. Fortunately, he survived.'
Sir Humphrey was shocked by the news. 'I'm relieved to hear it.'
'Not as much as me. He could easily have drowned.'
'And he thinks that James was responsible?'
'He considers it a strong possibility, Sir Humphrey.'
'How does Mr Redmayne know that the attack is related to the murder?'
'He was near the scene of the crime when it happened,' explained Jonathan.
'What, in Fenchurch Street?'
'No, some distance away. His brother was found in an alley near Thames Street. It was only a short walk to the river from there.'
'I begin to see his reasoning,' said Sir Humphrey, rubbing his chin. 'It would be too great a coincidence for this to happen so close to the place where the murder must have been committed.'
'Does it alter your opinion of Captain Harvest?'
'No, I still do not take him for a callous murderer.'
'Somebody stabbed the fencing master in the back.'
'I thought that you were ready to hang Henry Redmayne for the crime.'
'I felt that the evidence pointed that way,' admitted Jonathan, 'but I've been forced to think again. What I do know is that the man who called himself Captain Harvest is implicated in some way and that means we have to apprehend him. Have you any idea where he might be, Sir Humphrey'
'None at all.'
'When did you last see him?'
'On the night when the murder took place.'
'Has he not tried to get in touch with you since?'
'Why should he do that?'
'Because he needs money,' said Jonathan. 'He left his lodging because he could not pay his rent. Mr Redmayne found him playing cards in a tavern in search of funds. I've only met the fellow twice but I'd say that he was an expert at borrowing money from friends. I wondered if he had come to you, Sir Humphrey.'
'No, Mr Bale!' said the other with more force in his denial than was necessary. 'I've not seen hide nor hair of the fellow. He's had nothing from me, I warrant you. I'd not give him a single penny.'
Jonathan sensed that he was lying.
Lady Whitcombe was not pleased with the outcome of their visit to Fetter Lane. Her hopes that Christopher Redmayne would be able to win over her son had foundered. Egerton Whitcombe had been surly and disobedient, aspects of his character that he took care to hide from his mother as a rule. While the architect had behaved like a gentleman, her son had been boorish and she was determined to wrest an apology out of him. Her daughter, Letitia, was thinking along the same lines.
'Egerton was so disagreeable this morning,' she said. 'He was rude and peevish. What made him behave like that, Mother?'
'I think he's still tired after the difficult crossing from France.'
'You always make excuses for him.'
'I make none in this instance, Letitia. I mean to reprimand him sharply.'
Her daughter giggled. 'I long to hear you do that.'
'It will be done in private,' emphasized Lady Whitcombe. 'But Egerton was not the only person who let me down in Mr Redmayne's house. You behaved badly as well. I want him to admire my daughter yet you make strange noises at him then start to argue with your brother. Truly, I was ashamed of both of you.'
'Mother!' said the girl, tears forming in her eyes. 'Do not be angry with me.'
'Then do not give me cause for anger.'
Letitia lapsed into a bruised silence. They were alone in the parlour of the house where they were staying. Lady Whitcombe had been studying the drawings for her new house and reflecting on the quality of its architect. She was not in the mood for idle conversation with her daughter. Letitia waited several minutes before she dared to speak.
'Do you think that Mr Redmayne's brother did commit a murder?' she asked.
'No, Letitia.'
'Yet he has been arrested.'
'Yes,' said her mother, 'and you can see the unfortunate position in which that places Mr Redmayne. People have turned against him in the same unthinking way that Egerton did. It's so narrow-minded of them. Your father taught me the value of tolerance and decency,' she continued, folding up the drawings. 'He lived through turbulent days, Letitia. He saw more than one friend of his sent to the Tower but he never turned his back on them because of that. Nor did he shun their families.'
'Father was a saint,' said Letitia wistfully.
'No, he was a simply human being who understood human weakness.'
'I do wish I'd seen more of him when I was growing up.'
'Your father was a statesman, Letitia. That brings heavy responsibilities. He served his country and we still bask in the reputation that he left behind. It's only when a family is in danger of losing its good name - as in this present case - that you realise how important an asset it is.'
'Yes, Mother.'
'At a time like this, Mr Redmayne needs compassion.'
'It's no use looking to Egerton for that.'
'Letitia!'
'When he went to that house this morning, he was in a foul mood.'
'He'd been listening to too much loose talk in taverns,' said Lady Whitcombe. 'The general feeling is that Henry Redmayne is guilty. Well, I'll not believe it. I'm sure that his brother will soon clear his name.'
'Oh, I hope so. I do want him to design our house.'
Her mother held up the drawings. 'He's already done that. Nothing will stop me having this house built. Whatever happens, Mr Redmayne will be my architect. I'll tell him that when I see him tomorrow.'
'We're going to see him again?' asked Letitia with a grin.
'I am. You will stay here.'
'That's cruel!'
'I choose to go on my own this time.'
'But I like him so. Do let me come with you.'
'No,' said Lady Whitcombe firmly. 'There are a few tiny points I wish to raise with him over the design and I'd prefer to see him in private. Do not look so sad, Letitia. There'll be other occasions. In due course,' she assured her daughter, 'you will be seeing a great deal of Christopher Redmayne.'
Susan Cheever was so grateful that her disappearance from the house had escaped attention that she made an effort to be especially attentive to the people who had taken her there. Friendly towards Jack Cardinal, she was even more courteous towards his mother, asking her about her plans for the stay in London and showing an interest in everything that was suggested. Mrs Cardinal warmed to her and could see that her son was also drawn to their new acquaintance. Lord Eames was an inveterate collector. When he took Cardinal off to see his display of
