Frost Fair (31 page)

    'We'll never be close friends, sir.'

    'He's still prickly. Your visit may be in vain.'

    Jonathan pondered. 'I'd still like to go,' he said at length.

    'Would you like me there with you? It might make it a little easier.'

    'No, I'll go on my own. I'm used to talking to prisoners in their cells. They give things away without even realising it sometimes.' He studied the glow on Christopher's face. 'You look happy, sir. Has something else happened?'

    'A pleasing encounter with a dear friend, that's all,' said Christopher evasively. 'What's really given me new heart is the discovery that the man who killed Signor Maldini is frightened enough to strike again. I have him on the run, Jonathan. It's only a question of time before I find out who he is.' He rubbed his hands. 'But you would not have called if you did not have news of your own to impart? What have you learned?'

    'What we both suspected about him, Mr Redmayne.'

    'About whom?' 'Captain Harvest.'

    'He's entertaining company, I know, but I'd not trust him for a second.'

    'Nor I,' said Jonathan. 'You met him at the Hope and Anchor. I began to wonder why he chose to spend time in a sailors' tavern when, if he'd gone elsewhere, he could have found plenty of old soldiers to talk to about his days in the army.'

    'That puzzled me as well.'

    'I found out why.'

    'Was the gallant Captain Harvest discharged with dishonour?'

    'I doubt if he ever bore arms in war. Whenever I was with him, I felt that I was being tricked. So I tried to trick him myself.'

    'He'd not have expected that, Jonathan. What did you do?'

    'I pretended that I had a friend who worked as a clerk in the army and told him that the man had looked through all the muster rolls without finding any trace of a Captain Harvest. The trick worked,' he said with a smile of self-congratulation. 'He believed me. When I asked him what regiment he served in, he knew that the game was up and fled on his horse. He'll not be so easy to track down again.'

    Christopher was intrigued. 'If he is not Captain Harvest, who is he?'

    'I do not know, Mr Redmayne, but I intend to find out.'

    'Did he not try to talk his way out of it?'

    'He tried and failed, sir. His eyes betrayed him.'

    "This is news indeed!' said Christopher with a laugh. 'You look so honest that he never suspected that you'd dupe him. Bravo! You tricked a master trickster, Jonathan.'

    "Then I let him get away.'

    'That was unlike you. Well, this puts a different complexion on the whole thing. I did suggest that he might be involved in the murder but we thought he'd have no motive.'

    'Mr Crenlowe believed he might be guilty.'

    'Did he say why?'

    'No, it was just a feeling that he had about the man.'

    'Yet Sir Humphrey Godden disagreed with him.'

    'Very strongly. I think that Mr Crenlowe had suspicions of Captain Harvest - or, at least, of the man who was passing himself off under that name. The murder brought those suspicions to the surface.'

    'Perhaps I should call on him again.'

    'You'd fare better than me, Mr Redmayne. I learned little from the goldsmith.'

    You learned that he was not as pleasant a man as he appeared to be.'

    'He showed you more respect, it's true.'

    'What about Sir Humphrey? Should I see him again?'

    'I think that someone should tell him how completely he was fooled. Let me do it. That fraudulent soldier deceived them all, including your brother.'

    'And me, Jonathan. His voice, manner and gestures were so persuasive.'

    'I fought in an army, sir. You did not. He troubled me from the start.'

    'You've done us all a service by unmasking him,' said Christopher. 'It raises all kinds of new questions. How close was he to Jeronimo Maldini? Did the Italian know his true identity or was he taken in as well? Why was 'the captain' the only one of Henry's friends who did not stand by him? I think we know the answer to that,' he decided. 'It was as I guessed. He accused my brother to divert attention from himself.'

    'We need to catch him, Mr Redmayne - and soon.'

    'But where is the mysterious Captain Harvest?'

        Sir Humphrey Godden dined at home with his wife for once then set some hours aside to work on his accounts. It was a tiresome exercise but he stuck to his task, going through his bills in order and making the appropriate entries in his ledger. When a servant entered, his master looked up in the hope that he had brought some refreshment but the man had only come to inform him that he had a visitor. Sir Humphrey was not pleased to hear the name that was whispered in his ear. Setting his quill aside, he marched out of the room and into the hall, expecting to see a familiar face and distinctive apparel. Instead, he was looking at a big, broad-shouldered man in dark clothing that robbed him of all of his flamboyance. Where there had once been a red beard, there was now a cleanshaven face. Coming to a halt, Sir Humphrey stared with incredulity at his friend.

    'I was told that Captain Harvest was here,' he said.

    'He is,' replied the other with his telltale grin.

    'Is that you, James? What have you done to yourself?'

    'I'll explain that, Sir Humphrey.'

    'Why have you come here?'

    'I need to borrow some money.'

    Sir Humphrey was in two minds, wanting to turn the visitor away yet held back by invisible ties of friendship. Eventually, he glanced over his shoulder.

    'Follow me,' he said.

    Martin Crenlowe was in high feather at the hope of success. He had spent over an hour displaying his wares to a customer in search of a goldsmith who could fashion some highly expensive jewellery for him. The man had gone away to consider the matter but Crenlowe was almost certain that the lucrative order would in time be placed with him. It was the latest piece of good fortune in what had been a profitable week. Alone in his office, he allowed himself a celebratory glass of brandy. There was a tap on the door then one of his apprentices came in.

    "There's a gentleman to see you, sir,' he said.

    Crenlowe was pleased. 'Is it the customer who was here earlier?'

    'No, sir. His name is Christopher Redmayne.'

    'Oh.' He was disappointed. 'Did you tell him that I was here?'

    'Yes, sir.'

    "Then you had better show him in.'

    Crenlowe drained his glass then set it aside. He got to his feet to give Christopher a greeting when the latter was conducted into the room. The goldsmith was apologetic.

    'You catch me at a busy time, Mr Redmayne,' he said.

    'Then I'll do my best not to hold you up for long,' promised Christopher, 'but there have been certain developments that I felt might interest you.'

    'Developments?'

    'I believe that you had a visit from Jonathan Bale.'

    'Oh, yes, that constable. Not the most prepossessing of individuals.'

    'Do not be misled by that dour manner of his, Mr Crenlowe. He's a shrewd man. Jonathan discovered something that neither you, Sir Humphrey Godden, nor my brother had managed to find out.' 'And what was that?'

    'Captain Harvest is an impostor.'

    Christopher told him how the self-styled soldier had been challenged and exposed by Jonathan and how he had fled from the scene as a result. The goldsmith was very interested in the news but he was not entirely surprised.

    'We all knew that James was a rogue of sorts,' he said blandly, 'but he could be such amiable company that it did not seem to mind. And there was no doubting his skill with a sword. We took his word that he'd learned that on the battlefield. Yet now, you tell me, he was not even a soldier.'

    'Mr Bale was.'

    'I see.'

    'He fought at Worcester. He pointed out that there's no place in battle for any refinements of the art of fencing. It's all slash, cut and thrust. You've no time to make use of the eight positions from which to attack or parry that are taught in a fencing school. Strength and speed of action are the qualities needed.'

    'I obviously misjudged your friend, the constable.'

    'Many people do. You told him that Captain Harvest - to give him the name that he used - might conceivably have been the killer.'

    'I begin to think it even more likely now.'

    'So do I, Mr Crenlowe. He may have made an attempt on my life as well.'

    'Never!'

    When he heard about the attack on the riverbank, Crenlowe became alarmed. He needed some time to absorb the implications of what he had been told. Eventually, he pointed a knowing finger at his visitor.

    'This is proof positive that Henry is innocent,' he declared.

    'That's what I believe.'

    'James must be arrested at once.'

    'Unfortunately, he's disappeared.'

    'Then he must be hunted down, Mr Redmayne.' He shook his head with disgust. 'To think how easily he took us all in! Mark you,' he went on, 'we only ever saw him in convivial surroundings. When drink is taken, one is apt to be far less discriminating. And we did imbibe a great deal. I confess to that fault readily.

    James duped us. He knew exactly how to win our confidence.' He moved across to Christopher. 'Have you told your brother about this?'

    'Not yet, Mr Crenlowe.'

    'It will gladden his heart.'

    'Henry is still trying to recover from our father's visit.'

    'Yes, he lives in dread of him. He's often spoken to us about the fearsome Dean.'

    'Father is only fearsome to those with a guilty conscience,' said Christopher, 'and Henry has had that for years. But there's something else on which I'd like your opinion,' he went on, measuring his words carefully. 'Captain Harvest claimed that the root of the dissension between Henry and Signor Maldini was their mutual interest in a certain lady.'

    'Did he say who the lady was?'

    'No,' replied Christopher, careful to divulge no further detail. 'Were you aware that my brother had conceived a passion for someone?'

    'It's happened too often for us to pay much attention to it.'

    'This was patently a more serious involvement.'

    'Then Henry was discreet for once,' said Crenlowe, 'for I was unaware of it. And since we know that James was a practised liar, he might well have invented the whole thing in order to give your brother a stronger motive to commit murder. What does Henry himself say?'

    'He denies such a lady even existed.'

    'There's your answer, then. Disregard the suggestion.'

    Christopher was glad that he had not mentioned the name of Patience Holcroft. The goldsmith clearly had no knowledge of her link with the murder victim and the man arrested for the crime. He was confident that Sir Humphrey Godden knew nothing of it either. Evidently, Henry Redmayne had shown uncharacteristic discretion in his dealings with the lady. That only confirmed the strength of his feeling for her.

    'Thank you for your help, Mr Crenlowe,' he said. 'I'm glad that I came.'

    'So am I, so am I. These tidings about James are very distressing.'

    'Have you any idea where we might find him?'

    'No, Mr Redmayne,' said the other. 'He had a habit of finding us.

    I've no idea where the man lodged even. James would just appear when he chose to.'

    'He boasted to me that he liked to cover his tracks.'

    'He'll have even more need to do that now.'

    'Exactly,' said Christopher. 'Since he can no longer swagger as Captain Harvest, he'll have to find another disguise. My fear is that he might flee London altogether but he'd need money to do that. Where would he go to find it?'

    Crenlowe was stern. 'Not here,' he said, 'I can promise you that. I made it crystal clear to James that I'd loaned him money for the last time.'

    'What about Sir Humphrey Godden?'

    'He'd be less likely to expect repayment.'

    'Why is that?'

    'Sir Humphrey has more money than he needs, Mr Redmayne. He inherited his wealth. I, as you see, have to accumulate mine with the skills I've acquired in my trade. It makes me less willing to advance a loan unless I know that it will be duly repaid. James would never turn to me again.'

    'Where would he turn?'

    'I could give you half-a-dozen names,' said Crenlowe, 'but the main one has already been mentioned. He'd almost certainly go first to Sir Humphrey Godden.'

      Jonathan Bale was even less welcome at the address in Covent Garden than he had been at the coffee house. He was kept standing in the draughty hall for fifteen minutes before Sir Humphrey Godden even deigned to acknowledge his presence. When he finally made an appearance, the man was an unfriendly host.