'Cuthbert did write the play,' he told her, 'but someone else inserted the scene in which Sir Julius was mocked.'
'That does not matter now. The fact is that you were complicit in the whole plot. You sniggered at my father in the theatre then claimed to be appalled at what you saw. And, even though you knew that he would have been roundly abused in the House of Commons as a result of the play, you did not have the grace to confide in Susan or myself. You are a fiend, Mr Redmayne.'
'But I love you!'
'A cruel, uncaring, unprincipled, odious fiend.'
'Brilliana!'
'Do not dare to speak my name, sir. I spurn you.'
'Could we not discuss this more amicably over a glass of my finest wine?' he suggested, quivering with contrition.
'I'd sooner take poison than accept a drink from you.'
'You cannot mean that.'
'Be grateful that I came alone, Mr Redmayne,' she said with blistering anger. 'And be thankful that I am but a woman.'
'A princess among women!'
'Were I a man, I'd have challenged you to a duel and sent you to the grave that is your rightful home. Good day to you, sir. I'll not soil myself with your company any longer.' Henry followed her as she went out into the hall. Brilliana paused in front the painting of the Roman orgy. 'My husband was right. This is an abomination. I cannot believe that it amused me even for a second. It is like its owner,' she went on. 'Indecent, unchristian and utterly corrupt.'
Opening the front door, she sailed out with great dignity. Henry was distraught. His romance with her was unequivocally over.
They first called at his house in Aldermanbury Street but, when they learned that Erasmus Howlett was at work, they walked on to the brewery. Jonathan Bale had the privilege of bearing the warrant. Tom Warburton accompanied him and Bale had taken the precaution of recruiting two constables from Cripplegate ward as well. Since he also had Christopher Redmayne in support, he felt as if he had adequate numbers to apprehend the two men.
'Will you recognise him if you see him, sir?' asked Bale.
'Yes,' replied Christopher. 'With or without his hat.'
'Are you going to return it to him?'
'Of course - though I might think twice about his dagger.'
'Mr Howlett should give us no trouble. He does not have the look of a fighting man to me.'
'He pays others to fight and murder on his behalf.'
'Those days are over,' said Bale, happily, 'and so is his ambition to be Lord Mayor of the city.' Two drays, loaded with full barrels, were driven past them. Bale took note. 'When they learn what Mr Howlett had been involved in, a lot of taverns may choose to buy their beer elsewhere.'
'I suspect that the Saracen's Head will be among them.'
They reached the brewery and went in. Christopher reacted to the insidious aroma. He could understand how it would penetrate the clothes and hair of anyone who worked in it, and why Bale had been able to identify it so easily. It made Christopher grimace. Having seen them from his office, Erasmus Howlett came down the steps to meet them. He seemed unperturbed by the appearance of four constables. When Christopher was introduced, however, a ripple of alarm went across the brewer's face. Bale took out the list of ingredients that Howlett had given him earlier. He held it out.
'We came about this, sir,' he said.
'A complaint about my beer?' Howlett gave a nervous laugh. 'I've never had that before.'
'It's not the beer we complain about,' said Christopher, taking a piece of paper from his pocket. 'It's the handwriting.' He thrust the paper under Howlett's nose. 'It matches
'I never wrote that!' exclaimed the other.
'Yes, you did. They were your instructions to Dan Crothers and they sent him off on a murderous mission. When he failed to kill Sir Julius Cheever, you had his throat cut in Old Street.' Christopher took out the dagger he had taken from his attacker. 'We even have the weapon that committed the crime. It belongs to one of your men, Mr Howlett. Perhaps you'd be kind enough to point him out.'
'I've no idea what you are talking about, Mr Redmayne,' said Howlett, indignantly. 'You are trespassing on my property and I must ask you to leave at once.'
'We will, sir,' said Bale. 'When I've served you with this warrant for your arrest. First, however, oblige Mr Redmayne, if you will.'
'Pick out the man you sent to kill me today,' said Christopher, taking out his sword. 'I'd like to renew my acquaintance with him.'
Howlett gave up all pretence of innocence. He knew that he was trapped but his accomplice might yet escape. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he yelled at the top of his voice.
'Run, Sam!' he called. 'Get away while you can!'
A figure emerged from behind one of the huge vats and raced off through the brewery. Seeing that it was his attacker, Christopher went after him, dodging round the various people and obstacles in his way. As before, the man had too much of a start and a far greater knowledge of the geography of the place. After leading his pursuer on a circuitous route, he darted through a door at the rear of the building and slammed it shut behind him. Christopher feared that he had lost him for the second time. When he opened the door, however, he had a most pleasant surprise.
The man he had chased was lying flat on his back with blood gushing from his nose. Standing over him with a grin of triumph was Patrick McCoy.
'I knew you'd come to the brewery, sir,' he said. 'I waited here because I thought someone might try to escape through the back.' He grabbed the fallen man by the collar and lifted him without effort to his feet. 'Here he is, sir. I just wanted to help.'
Susan Cheever was both disturbed and impressed with what her sister had done. When she came back to the house, Brilliana was glowing with satisfaction. Her husband was aghast but Susan had a grudging admiration.
'You scolded Henry to his face?' she said.
'I told him exactly what I thought of him, Susan.'
'Why did you not tell me you were going there?' asked Serle. 'The very least I could have done was to accompany you.'
'It was something I needed to do alone, Lancelot, and it was all the more effective as a result. I accused him of betraying our family in the most atrocious way and told him how much I despised him.'
'That will have curbed his amorous intentions,' said Susan under her breath. She spoke up. 'What did Henry say?'
'I gave him no chance to say anything.'
'Not even an apology?'
'What use is an apology that was bound to be insincere?'
'The strange thing is that you liked him at first, Brilliana.'
'I did,' said her sister. 'I was taken in by his dazzling manner. Then I learned the truth. Henry Redmayne is like that painting he has hanging in his hall - arresting at first sight but, when you look more closely, ineffably sordid.'
'Oh, I'm so glad that you say that, my dear,' said Serle. 'You have described him perfectly. There's a lesson in this for you, Susan. Having seen how both brothers have let us down, I hope you'll no longer seek a closer relationship with the Redmayne family.'
'I'll oppose it with every fibre of my being,' affirmed Brilliana.
'It's highly unlikely that there is anything to oppose,' said Susan with regret. 'Christopher and I have drifted apart. However,' she continued, remembering his vow to her, 'we must not lose all our faith in him. Nobody will try harder to save Father's life.'
