The Frost Fair Part 40

'I don't think his brother will have any need for it now,' said Jonathan.

The house was only a few hundred yards from where he lived but it was substantially bigger than anything in Addle Hill. He was conducted into a large, low, rectangular room with a capacious bed against one wall. The room also contained three chairs, a small table, a water jug and a bowl, a collection of swords and an oak desk with ornate carvings. On one wall was a crucifix. As soon as he was left alone, Jonathan began his search, working systematically around the room. He lifted the carpet, he crawled under the bed and he poked into every corner. No new discovery came to light.

All that was left was the desk, a bulky object that had taken two of them to move on the first visit so that they could look behind it. The drawers had been emptied for the most part. All that remained in them were some writing materials and a manual on fencing, written in Italian. Jonathan sat down to study the desk, deciding that it must have had exceptional importance for its owner if he had brought it all the way from Italy. He began to explore it more carefully, pulling out the drawers so that he could reach in with his arm then tapping the desk all over with his knuckles as he listened for a sound that indicated hollowness.

He knew that skilled cabinetmakers could make ingenious secret compartments but he could find none in the desk. He was about to give up when his eye fell on the swords propped up against the wall. Selecting a rapier, he pulled it from its sheath and used it to prod in each of the cavities where the drawers had fitted. Nothing happened at first then he inserted the weapon into another part of the desk and jabbed gently The response was immediate and sudden. As the point of the rapier struck a small panel, there was a tw.a.n.g as a spring was released and a small door flapped open in the side, and at the rear of, the desk. Jonathan went down on his knees to grope inside the compartment that had just been revealed.

The first thing to emerge was a ledger, containing the accounts of the fencing school but a pile of letters soon followed. Some were in Italian but several were in English. Though they were unsigned, most bore a number to aid identification by the recipient. Jonathan skimmed through some of the correspondence, wondering why an Italian fencing master should be interested in the subjects that were discussed. He then found the most important item in the cache. It was a list of names, against each of which was a number. When he saw the name at the top of the list, he was shocked.

Christopher Redmayne did not relish the idea of being locked in a room with a man who had tried to murder both him and his brother. When he saw Pietro Maldini, however, he decided that he was in no danger. The man looked beaten and hunted. Wearing manacles, he sat on a chair in the corner of the room with his shoulders hunched and his knees drawn up. Released from his cell on the instruction left by Jonathan Bale, he was ready to fulfil his side of the bargain, albeit with great reluctance. He did not even look up when Christopher came into the room. The architect stayed on his feet.

'Do you know who I am?' he asked. Maldini nodded. "Then you need to be aware of something else,' said Christopher earnestly. 'My brother is not guilty of this crime and I'll prove it by catching the man who was. You can help me in my search.' Maldini simply glowered at him. 'I've not forgotten what you did to me, Signor Maldini, but that's not important at this moment. You acted the way you did because you loved your brother. That's exactly what I'm doing.'

'Your brother murdered Jeronimo,' said Maldini, glaring at him.

"The evidence points that way, I admit, but I had doubts about it at the start. Let me tell you why Did you ever see your brother take part in a fencing bout?'

'Many times.'

'He was a fine swordsman, I hear.'

"There was no better one,' said the other with pride.

'In other words,' said Christopher, 'he was a man well able to look after himself. My brother was not. On the night when the crime took place, my brother was too drunk even to know where he was going. His only weapon was a dagger. Your brother never went anywhere without his rapier. It was the mark of his trade.'

'What you trying to tell me?'

'I want to ask you a simple question. If the two of them met that night, which would have the advantage? A drunken man with a dagger or an unrivalled swordsman?'

Maldini was confused. 'Your brother stabbed him in the back.'

'How?' asked Christopher, spreading his arms. 'He'd never get close enough to try. Do you think your brother would be stupid enough to turn his back on someone with whom he'd fallen out? Had they closed with each other, there would have been only one winner and it would not have been Henry.'

'You make this up to trick me.'

'Why should I do that? Why should I bother to defend my brother's name if I was not absolutely certain that he was innocent? There's no trick involved, Signor Maldini.' He moved forward to stand over the man. 'Do you think I'd trouble to speak to someone who tried to murder me if I did not believe he could help me? I'm the one with the right to be angry,' he said with studied calmness, 'and you know why. But I put my personal grievances aside for the sake of my brother. Do the same for the sake of yours.'

Maldini was still suspicious. 'What do you want from me?'

'A clearer notion of what your brother was like. Everything I've heard about him so far has been coloured by prejudice. Tell me about the real Jeronimo Maldini,' he said. 'I admire anyone who comes to a foreign country and masters its language enough to make a good living here. Both you and your brother did that. Why did you come in the first place? What made you choose England?'

The prisoner gave a wistful smile. 'We thought we'd have a better life here.'

'And did you?'

Pietro Maldini was resentful at first, feeling that he and his brother had been badly let down in their adopted country, talking about some of the slights they had received. But the more he talked, the more relaxed he became. He spoke with great fondness of his brother and revealed many insights into his character. Christopher was struck by the speed with which Jeronimo Maldini had settled into his new home. He pressed for more personal detail.

'Did he never wish to marry?'

Maldini shrugged. 'Why tie yourself to one woman when you can please many?'

'Is that what your brother did?'

'Jeronimo was a very handsome man. He could take his pick.'

'I understand that he bought jewellery from a goldsmith called Mr Crenlowe.'

'That is so.'

'Was he able to afford the high price that must have been charged?'

'Of course!' rejoined the other.

'And did you brother always buy expensive gifts for his ladies?'

'No,' said Maldini with a half-smile. 'He did not need to. The gift they had was Jeronimo himself. That was enough.'

'Except in this particular case,' noted Christopher. 'Why was that?'

'One lady, she was very special to him. He love her dearly.'

'But not enough to marry her, obviously.'

'She already had a husband. Most of them did. Jeronimo, he prefer that.'

'Who was the lady he loved more than the others?' asked Christopher. 'She must have been special to him if he was ready to spend so much money on her. Did he ever tell you her name?'

'My brother, he would never do that. He protect the lady's reputation. But I did watch him seal a letter to her once,' said Maldini. 'He wrote something on the front of it.'

'Well?'

'It was her initial. Her name, I think it begin with 'M".'

Sir Humphrey G.o.dden had enjoyed his visit to his favourite coffee house. He was among friends and able to relax. There was far less gossip to be heard about the murder of the Italian fencing master and that, too, contented him. It was something that he was trying to put out of his mind for the time being. When he finally came out of the building, he was feeling more cheerful than he had done for a week. Then someone stepped out of a doorway and took him familiarly by the arm. It was the man he had first known as Captain James Harvest.

'Good day to you, Sir Humphrey!' he said, grinning broadly.

'What are you doing here?'

'Waiting for you, of course. When I saw your coach, I knew that you were inside. And I could hardly join you,' he went on, indicating the dark suit that he was wearing, 'in this humble garb.'

'I've nothing more to say to you,' growled Sir Humphrey. 'I gave you what you wanted so you can now disappear from my life.' 'That's what I'd hoped to do, Sir Humphrey, but a constable has other ideas.'

'Constable? Are you talking of Mr Bale?'

'The very same. He's a good huntsman. He found out where I was hiding and lay in wait for me. That will not do, Sir Humphrey I'm too fond of my freedom to risk another meeting with that tenacious fellow.'

'Why tell me?'

'Because you are in a position to help me.'

'You'll get no more money from me,' snarled Sir Humphrey.

'It's not money that I'm after,' said the other, 'but somewhere to hide. You have that huge house with all those empty rooms in it. n.o.body would ever think of looking for me there. It would be so much more comfortable than a tenement in Wapping.' He grinned again. 'What do you say?'

'No!'

'Why must you be so inhospitable?'

'You are not coming anywhere near my home,' said Sir Humphrey 'Find somewhere else to hide or get out of London altogether.'

'I don't have enough money for that. You were the only person ready to help me. Martin turned me away with a mouthful of abuse. We used to be such friends, all three of us.' He nudged the other man in the ribs. 'Do you remember?'

'Look,' said Sir Humphrey, trying to sound more reasonable. 'It's not possible.

'Why not? I stayed there once before - when your wife was away.'

'That was a long time ago.'

'I still remember how soft and inviting the bed was,' said the other. 'It will only be for a week or so. The trail will have gone cold by then. Mr Bale will think that I've quit the city and give up.' He gave a knowing leer. 'I think that you owe me a favour. Remember what happened to your wife.'

'Be quiet, man!'

'I helped you to resolve the problem regarding Lady G.o.dden.'

Sir Humphrey shook him. 'I won't tell you again!'

Their eyes locked and he began to wilt under the other man's gaze. In trusting the former Captain Harvest, he had been unwise and was now suffering the consequences.

'This is blackmail!' he hissed.

'A week is all I ask, Sir Humphrey. Then I'll be gone for good.'

Sir Humphrey began to weaken. 'My wife must not even know that you're there.'

'I'll be as quiet as a mouse. Lock me in the cellar, if need be.'

'Amid my wine and brandy?' said the other. 'I'm not that stupid.'

'My horse is nearby. Shall I follow you back to Covent Garden?'

'Can you not leave it until after dark?'

'No, I need a refuge now.'

Sir Humphrey was trapped. An enjoyable visit to the coffee house had been ruined by a face from the past but he was not in a position to ignore it completely. There was an obligation that could be held over him. He opened the door of his coach as he thought through the implications of the request. With one foot on the step, he turned round and spoke in a grudging voice.

'I'll do it,' he said, 'but let me get to the house well before you do.'

Henry Redmayne was outraged by what he saw as a filial betrayal. When Christopher explained what he had done, Henry took his brother by the shoulders and shook him hard.

'That man tried to throttle me!' he yelled.

'I still have the bruises from his cudgel.'

'Then why did you not avenge the pair of us? I'd have torn the rogue apart.'

'What would that have achieved?' asked Christopher.

'It would have given me profound satisfaction.'

'No, Henry, it would have ensured that you'd have an appointment with the hangman, after all. You were imprisoned for a crime you did not commit. Only a fool would then try to kill someone within the confines of the prison. Pietro Maldini did that,' he pointed out, 'and look where he has ended up.'

'Enjoying a pleasant chat with my brother.'

'There was nothing pleasant about it for either of us.'

Christopher calmed him down and explained in detail what had happened. When he realised that his brother had been searching for information that might lead to his release, Henry was apologetic. He was also angered by the news that his rival had bought some expensive jewellery for a married woman.

'It had to be for Patience,' he decided. 'He commissioned it for her.'

'The name begins with 'M' and that rules Lady Holcroft out.'

'But she adored jewels of all kind, Christopher. They were her real joy in life. Patience deserved to be covered in diamonds and rubies. I asked Martin Crenlowe to fas.h.i.+on a brooch for me but, before I could give it to her, Patience was taken away from me by that fiend of an Italian.'

Christopher loved his brother too much to disabuse him of his illusion. Having heard Lady Holcroft's account of their friends.h.i.+p, he resolved never to mention to Henry that he had ever met her. It would be too cruel. Henry was better left to his fantasies.

'I feel that we have an important clue in our hands,' said Christopher. 'All that we have to do is to identify the woman and it was not, I'm certain, Lady Holcroft. Think of the letter 'M". Find me a wife called Mary, Margaret or Mildred.'

'I know of none, Christopher.'

'Rack your brains.'

'They have already been racked too hard.'

'Which of your friends has a wife called Maria?'

'None of them,' said Henry. He thought hard. 'But I know a Miriam,' he recalled.

'Is she young and beautiful?'

'Very young and exceedingly beautiful.'

'Yet she's a married lady?' Henry nodded. 'Excellent. Who is her husband?'

'Sir Humphrey G.o.dden.'

Jonathan Bale was rarely excited. His was a more phlegmatic temperament. When he made his discovery at the fencing master's lodging, however, he was thrilled. He walked back to the house in Fetter Lane to report his findings. Christopher Redmayne was not there but Jacob introduced him to the Dean of Gloucester instead. Jonathan received warm congratulation and stern reproof at the same time. While the old man thanked him for his courage in tackling Henry's would-be a.s.sa.s.sin, he also felt obliged to attest the spiritual superiority of the Anglican Church and to condemn those who dared to question the validity of its tenets. The constable weathered the storm with some difficulty and was glad when the Dean retired to his bedchamber with his Bible.