The Frost Fair

    'You might try telling the truth, Sir Humphrey.'

    'That's an insult!'

    'It was not meant to be,' said Christopher. 'It's a heartfelt plea for information that can lead us to the man who did kill the fencing master. You may choose to absolve the man known as Captain Harvest but I'd not dispense with him so easily. He has much to answer for, Sir Humphrey. Where can we find him?'

    'How should I know?'

    'Because you are the person to whom he's likely to turn.'

    'Well, he did not!' rejoined the other, reddening visibly. 'Do you and Mr Bale not understand the English language? James - Captain Harvest -call him what you will - has not been anywhere near me. Now, you can either believe me or not.'

    After looking him full in the eye, Christopher mounted his horse again.

    'I think that I prefer to believe Jonathan Bale,' he said.

    A return to the Hope and Anchor, and a second visit to the tenement, had both been in vain. Hannah Liggett was not in the former and had not been seen in the latter since the previous day. Jonathan had once again taken the precaution of shedding the attire he wore as a constable. Dressed as a shipwright and walking beside the river, he felt the pull of his old trade. It had been laborious work but it had brought in a regular wage and was fraught with none of the hazards he met as a humble constable. The moments he had savoured most were when the ships he had helped to build were finally launched into service. Even those occasions, however, rewarding as they were, did not give him the intense satisfaction he got from arresting a dangerous criminal.

    After eating a frugal dinner in an ordinary, he trudged back along Thames Street. What he expected to glean from a visit to the prison, he did not know but he felt that he should at least try to speak to Henry Redmayne. He also wanted to find out how the man had coped with imprisonment. That could be telling. When he got to Newgate, he reported to the prison sergeant who recognised him at once.

    'What's this, Jonathan?' he said, looking at his clothing. 'A constable no more?'

    'I'm an officer of the law, whatever I wear.'

    'Who have you brought for us today?'

    'Nobody, Isaac,' said Jonathan. 'I've come to visit a prisoner. Henry Redmayne.'

    'Mr Redmayne, eh?' The sergeant checked his ledger. 'He's a popular man.'

    'What do you mean?'

    'You're the third visitor today. His father was here this morning, a reverend gentleman with an air of holiness about him. The other man has just gone to him.'

    'Was it his brother?'

    'No, it was a strange, haunted fellow,' said the sergeant. 'But he was generous to me so I'll not keep him from his friend. Here!' he called, snapping his fingers at a turnkey. 'Show Mr Bale where he can find Henry Redmayne.

    'How has he behaved while he's been in here, Isaac?'

    'Quiet as a lamb, Jonathan. We'd be happy to have more like him.'

    The turnkey unlocked a door so that Jonathan could follow him through it. After locking it behind them, he led the constable down a long, cold, featureless passageway with the footsteps echoing on the cold stone. When they turned a corner, the turnkey pointed to a cell door that was open at the far end. A slim young man was being ushered in by another turnkey who locked him in with the prisoner.

    'That's Mr Redmayne's cell,' said Jonathan's companion. 'You'll have to wait. There's no room in there for three of you.'

    Jonathan thanked him and strode on down to where the other turnkey was waiting.

    'I've permission to see Mr Redmayne.'

    'Everybody wants to see him today,' replied the man, curling a lip.

    'Who's in there now?'

    'A friend of his.'

    'Did he give a name?' asked Jonathan peering through the grill. A loud gurgling sound came from inside the cell. 'Quick!' he yelled. 'Open the door!'

    'Why?'

    'Open the door, man!'

    Grabbing the key from him, Jonathan unlocked the door and dived into the cell, Henry Redmayne was on his knees, his face purple as his visitor tightened the cord that was around his neck. Jonathan punched the attacker on the nose and sent him sprawling into the straw. Before he could recover, Jonathan pounded him with a fierce relay of blows until he was too weak to fight back. Blood streamed freely from the man's nose. Henry, meanwhile was spluttering in the corner. Watching from the doorway, the turnkey tried to defend himself.

    'I searched him for weapons. How was I to know he had that cord with him?'

    'Take hold of him,' ordered Jonathan, lifting the other visitor from the floor with one hand and pushing him into the arms of the turnkey. 'He should never have been allowed in here. I'll speak to the prison sergeant about this.'

    The turnkey hustled the man out. Jonathan turned to Henry, who was still holding his throat and retching. He put an arm around the prisoner's shoulder.'

    'How are you now, sir?' he asked.

    'Grateful you came, Mr Bale,' gasped Henry. 'You saved my life.'

    'Who was he?'

    'A madman. As soon as he came into the cell, he tried to strangle me.'

    'Do you know his name, sir?'

    'Oh, yes,' said Henry, finding it painful to speak. 'It's Pietro Maldini.'

    'Maldini?'

    'He thinks I killed his brother.'

Chapter Fifteen

    Sir Ralph Holcroft and his wife were the first to leave the house in the Strand and the other guests soon followed. Nobody had eaten more voraciously at the table than Mrs Cardinal, who was so bloated that she had to be helped into the parlour by her son. The chair creaked beneath her weight as she lowered herself into it and she began to wheeze badly. Jack Cardinal was dispatched upstairs to fetch one of her potions. His mother would not accept that she had brought the discomfort on herself. She turned to Susan Cheever, who sat beside her.

    'The cook was to blame,' she said, raising a hand to cover a discreet belch. 'The choice was too great and the quantities too large. It would have been discourteous to our hosts to refuse such exquisite food.'

    'Yes, Mrs Cardinal,' said Susan.

    "Though you seemed to partake of very little.'

    'What I ate, I enjoyed immensely. I'm not used to such rich dishes.'

    'Nor am 1,' complained Mrs Cardinal, shifting her position on the chair to ease the pain in her stomach. 'The lamprey pie was a mistake. At home in Richmond, our fare is rather simpler, as you will discover when you visit us.'

    'Thank you.'

    'But I'll not forget this dinner for a long time, I know that.'

    'Nor will I,' said Susan.

    Cardinal arrived with the potion and helped his mother to take a small amount.

    'Keep it by me, Jack,' she said, 'in case I need to have some more.'

    'Yes, Mother,' he agreed, sitting opposite her.

    'You are a proper physician, Mr Cardinal,' observed Susan. 'Whenever your mother sends for some medicine, you know exactly which one to bring.'

    'I'd be lost without Jack,' said Mrs Cardinal, beaming at him. 'Now, then,' she went on, nudging Susan gently, 'let me into your little secret. I watched the pair of you talking for hours at the table. What was the subject of your conversation?'

    'Anything but politics.'