The Parliament House

his neck at an unusual angle as if it had been twisted out of shape.

    Bale introduced himself and explained that he had been to the Parliament House to discover where Bircroft was staying in London. He apologised for calling but said that it was necessary to do so. The other man was extremely wary.

    'What do you want with me, Constable?' he asked.

    'A few minutes of your time, sir.'

    'Then I must sit down.'

    'Of course, Mr Bircroft.'

    'Bear with me.'

    What was a simple movement for Bale was a more complicated exercise for the other man. Shuffling to a chair, he lowered himself with agonising slowness on to it, his limbs poking out at odd angles as he settled down. He was clearly in constant pain. Sitting opposite him. Bale felt sorry for the man. However, he had been sent to get information and did not wish to leave without it.

    'Do you know a man named Bernard Everett?' said Bale.

    'Yes, he lives near Cambridge.'

    'Not any more, I'm afraid. He died some days ago.'

    'Dear me!' exclaimed Bircroft. 'What a terrible shame! Bernard was about to join us in the Parliament House. I only arrived here yesterday so I was quite unaware of this news. Had he been ill for long?'

    'It was not a natural death, Mr Bircroft. He was murdered.'

    The old man gurgled and looked as if he were on the point of having a seizure. Bale had to wait a long while before Bircroft felt able to continue. The visitor explained what had happened in Knightrider Street and how he had become part of the hue and cry that had been set up.

    'I'll not abide it, Mr Bircroft,' he said, grimly. 'I'll not have people shot dead in Baynard's Castle ward. However much time and effort it takes, we'll find this villain and see him hang.'

    'I admire your commitment, Mr Bale, but I fail to see how I can be of any assistance to you. I did not know Bernard Everett well.'

    'But you were a close friend of Sir Julius Cheever.'

    'I was,' confessed Bircroft:, 'at one time.'

    'Are you no longer associated with him?'

    'Only in the loosest way.'

    'I believe that you and he shared so many common objectives,' said Bale. 'May I ask why the two of you fell out?'

    Bircroft looked away. 'That's a private matter.'

    'You were wont to visit his house.'

    'Yes, I was.'

    'Did you lose faith in your ideals?'

    'No!' retorted Bircroft. 'I would never do that and I find your question offensive. I repudiate nothing.' He was trembling with passion. 'Do you know where you are, Mr Bale?'

    'Yes, sir - in Coleman Street.'

    'And are you aware of its reputation?'

    'Of course, Mr Bircroft. I rejoice in its Puritan values.'

    'In 1642, when the King's father was on the throne, he sought to silence opposition in parliament by arresting five of its leaders. Those men - Pym, Hampton, Hesilrige, Holies and Strode - had to flee for their lives. They hid here in Coleman Street. A week later, they were able to return in triumph to Westminster.'

    'I'm familiar with the story, sir.' 'Then do not accuse me of lacking ideals. I stay in this part of the city because this is where I belong, politically and in every other sense. I may not have the same strength to champion my beliefs in the House of Commons, but I can work by other means to achieve my ends. I write pamphlets, I speak to clubs in private, I disseminate ideas.'

    'Yet you withdrew from the group that is led by Sir Julius.'

    'I admit it freely.'

    'And another man who fell away was Mr Manville.'

    'Arthur had his own reasons.'

    'Was it because he had his nose slit?' said Bale, repeating the question he had read in Christopher's letter. 'And were you, in turn, frightened away by the men who attacked you with cudgels?'

    Bircroft shuddered as harrowing memories flooded back. Two hideous minutes in an alleyway had left his body permanently distorted and he would never be able to walk properly again. Yet he tried to cling on to a shred of dignity.

    'Violence will never change my fundamental ideals.'

    'But it can stop you expressing them.'

    'I was foolish,' claimed Bircroft. 'When I walked through Covent Garden that day, I did not keep my wits about me. Those bullies fell on me because I was an easy prey. Once they'd knocked me senseless, they stole my purse and made off. Anyone else who'd been alone in that alleyway would have suffered the same fate.'

    'So you did not see the beating as a kind of warning?'

    'No, Mr Bale.'

    'What about the attack on Mr Manville?'

    'Ask him about that,' said Bircroft:, knuckles tightening on his walking stick. 'Arthur was too reckless. He courted a particular lady even though she was married. Her husband learned of it. I think that he paid for the disfigurement.'

    'Is that what Mr Manville thinks?'

    'Yes.'

    'And was the husband in question a politician, by any chance?'

    'What difference does that make?'

    'Was he, Mr Bircroft?' pressed Bale.

    The old man shifted uneasily in his chair. 'Yes,' he said.

    'But not of your persuasion?'

    'Good Lord - no!'

    'So it could have been an attack on a political opponent?'

    'Why are you bothering me with these questions?'

    'Because we see a link here,' said Bale.

    'Between what?'

    'All three of you, sir.'

    'I do not follow.'

    'You, Mr Manville and Mr Everett,' said the constable. 'It's too much of a coincidence. One by one, Sir Julius Cheever's supporters have been whittled away. Mr Manville does not speak in parliament any more, you are in no condition to do so, and Mr Everett was never even allowed to take his seat. The same person is behind all these outrages. You must have some idea who he might be.'

    Lewis Bircroft tried to summon up a look of defiance but it simply would not come. Instead, his body drooped, his face crumpled and tears began to roll slowly down his cheeks.

    Brilliana Serle was an enterprising woman. Failing to get what she felt was adequate cooperation from her sister, she decided to take matters into her own hands. Accordingly, she and her husband set off in their coach to find out what they could about the Redmayne family. Susan had been so reticent about Christopher's brother that her suspicions had been aroused. Truth needed to be sought. While Brilliana was in high spirits, her husband was having doubts about the expedition.

    'Would it not be better to wait until Christopher returns?' he said.

    'No, Lancelot.'

    'But it would be quite improper of us to arrive on his brothers doorstep without the courtesy of a warning.'

    'We do not have to enter the building,' she explained. 'I merely wish to see it from outside. A house can tell one so much about its owner and I would like to learn all that I can about Henry Redmayne.' 'What if Susan