The King's Evil

'No, but then he was not encouraged to take a proper look at him. Sir Ambrose made it quite clear that he did not want the nightwatchman peering over their shoulders. Jem made himself scarce.'

'So he might have known this other man?'

'If he'd been allowed more than a brief glance.'

Jonathan gazed steadily at him, his tone deliberately neutral.

'Were you the man in question, sir?'

'Of course not!' said Christopher hotly, taken aback. 'I came nowhere near the site yesterday evening.'

'Can you tell me where you did go, Mr Redmayne?'

'This is absurd, man! You surely do not suspect me?'

'I have to consider all possibilities.'

'Well, you can eliminate my name at once,' said Christopher with righteous indignation. 'Sir Ambrose Northcott was my employer. Why on earth should I want to murder him?'

'It may be that you had a disagreement, sir,' suggested Jonathan, fixing him with a stare. 'Over money, perhaps. Or the terms of your contract with him. You tell me, sir. All I know is that it does seem strange for a man to come to the house in the half-dark and go straight to the place where the body lay.' 'I had no idea what I was going to find down here.'

'Really, sir?'

'I was shaken to the core by the discovery. Ask Jem.'

'He says that you would not let him anywhere near you.'

'That is right but he must have heard the upset in my voice.'

'He heard only what you wanted him to hear, sir.'

'Stop this!' exploded Christopher. 'I'll bear no more of it. You have no right to accuse me. Look there, Mr Bale,' he ordered, pointing at the corpse. 'What you see is the body of a murdered man. Do you know what I see lying there? The probable death of my whole career as an architect. Sir Ambrose Northcott gave me an opportunity which few men would offer to a novice like myself. This house would have been a personal monument, a way to advertise my talents to all who saw it. But the likelihood is that it will never be built now. Think on that. Would I be foolish enough to kill the one man who had real faith in me?'

'It seems unlikely, I grant you.'

'Thank you!' said Christopher with sarcasm. 'And if I had been the killer, do you imagine I would be stupid enough to return to the scene of the crime like this then send for a constable?'

'That would have been guile rather than stupidity, sir.'

'Guile?'

'Yes, Mr Redmayne. You would be surprised how many times the person who reports a murder turns out to have committed it. There is no simpler way to throw suspicion off yourself.'

More sarcasm. 'It did not work in my case, did it?'

'No, sir. But, then, I am already acquainted with you.'

'What do you mean?'

'I do not trust you,' said Jonathan levelly.

Christopher blenched. 'Why ever not?'

'You are inclined to passion, sir.'

'Passion!' 'You are showing it now.'

'Only because you are provoking me!'

'Are you so easily provoked, Mr Redmayne?'

Christopher turned abruptly away and fought hard to master his temper. There was a lengthy pause. Jonathan took another look at the corpse. When he spoke again, his tone was more conciliatory.

'I do not believe that you committed this crime, sir.'

'Oh, you've worked that out, have you?' said Christopher, swinging back to face him. 'First you insult me then you exonerate me. What new piece of evidence have you stumbled on?'

'The evidence of my own eyes. You would not take such a risk.'

'Risk?'

'Of being recognised by the nightwatchman. Jem Raybone is a sharp-eyed man. Even at a glance, I think he would pick you out. No,' decided the constable, 'you were not the man who was seen going into the cellars with Sir Ambrose Northcott.' Christopher nodded gratefully and breathed heavily through his nose. 'Do you know if Jem saw one or both men leaving?'

'Neither. He was looking the other way.'

'So the murder could have taken place there and then?'

'Yes, Mr Bale.'

'The condition of the body suggests that it did. I would like it confirmed by a surgeon,' said Jonathan softly, 'but my guess is that Sir Ambrose was killed at least twelve hours ago. In which case, the prime suspect must be this unidentified companion.'

'Not I,' insisted the other.

'Who is not - I now accept - you, sir.'

A long sigh. 'I am glad that we agree on that.'

'The vital question is this: why did Sir Ambrose Northcott come down here with that man in the first place? Did he sense no danger?'

'Not until it was too late.'

They gazed down soulfully at the corpse. The nightwatchman's voice broke in. He was standing on the cellar steps, guessing what must have been discovered and afraid to venture any closer.

'Mr Littlejohn has just arrived,' he called.

'Keep him out of here,' replied Jonathan.

'What shall I tell him?'

'I will speak to him myself, Jem.' He was about to move off when Christopher's hand detained him. 'You have inadvertently taken hold of my arm, sir,' he said politely. 'I must ask you to release it.'

'Gladly,' said Christopher, retaining his grip, 'when you tell me why you dislike me so much.'

'My opinion of you does not come into it, Mr Redmayne.'

'It informs your whole attitude towards me.'

'That is not true, sir.'

'Something about me seems to irritate you.'

'I am not irritated,' said Jonathan calmly. 'But I will admit that I would rather be in this cellar with someone else.'

'Why?'

'It is a personal matter. Now, please let go of me.'

Christopher released his arm then followed him through the cellars and up the stone steps. Both men were glad to be back out in the fresh air again and they inhaled deeply. Samuel Littlejohn was waiting for them, his face etched with concern. He lurched forward.

'What has happened, constable?' he said.

'I have sad news, I fear,' said Jonathan. 'Sir Ambrose Northcott has been stabbed to death. His body lies in the cellar.'

Littlejohn recoiled and brought both hands up to his head.

'This cannot be!' he gasped.

'Mr Redmayne found and identified him.'

'It is true, Mr Littlejohn,' confirmed Christopher.

The builder was aghast. 'But what about the house?'

'That is the least of my concerns at the moment, sir,' said Jonathan briskly. 'A murder has been committed. Finding the killer is my priority. Jem,' he continued, turning to the nightwatchman. 'Run to the Hope and Anchor on St Peter's Hill. You should find Abraham Datchett and his partner there. Bid them come as fast as they can.'

'Yes, Mr Bale.'

The nightwatchman hurried off. Littlejohn was still stunned.

'What shall I do with my men?' he asked blankly. 'They will be coming to the site very soon, expecting to start work.'

'Send them back home, sir,' advised Jonathan.

'Work must be suspended,' agreed Christopher. 'The first thing we must do is to inform Solomon Creech. He is responsible for all of Sir Ambrose's affairs and will make decisions on his behalf. Who knows?' he said with forlorn enthusiasm. 'There may yet be some way in which the house can be built. Sir Ambrose's family may take on the responsibility themselves.'

'Is that likely, Mr Redmayne?' asked Littlejohn with a sigh. 'Sir Ambrose was killed here. The property will hardly hold fond memories for his family. We have lost everything.'

'Not necessarily.'

'The project is doomed.'

Christopher tried to console him but his words sounded hollow. In his heart, he shared the builder's pessimism. Construction had to be abandoned. There seemed to be no chance of it ever being resumed. In a city where so much rebuilding was taking place, Samuel Littlejohn would soon find alternative work for himself and his men but Christopher might not. His one venture into architecture had foundered.