The Frost Fair

by Edward Marston

  'That's what I was hoping you'd say. At that awful moment of extremity, you felt unready to meet your Maker. That's a good and proper feeling, Henry,' said his Father, releasing him at last. 'It shows that you recognised your failings as a human being.'

  'Oh, I did that the moment they locked me up in here.'

  'What will happen when you get out again?'

  'I'm beginning to give up all hope of that.'

  'You must never do that!' said the other seriously. 'Christopher assures me that he and his friend will soon apprehend the real culprit. You will then have to be released. I trust that you will resolve to lead a more Christian life.'

  'Yes, Father.'

  'You fell among evil men and were led astray.'

  'I'll choose my friends with more care in future,' promised Henry. 'I've never been a contemplative man but this experience has wrought a profound change in me. I've been arrested, imprisoned, vilified by all and sundry, then attacked by a murderous Italian. If and when I'm let out of Newgate, I vow to start a new life.'

  'Why not quit London and return to Gloucester with me?'

  'Not that new, Father,' said Henry, gulping at the prospect. 'I'd return to my post at the Navy Office and apply myself even more conscientiously than before. To leave the city would give the impression that I'm running away, and I'd never do that. I need to stay here to rebuild my lost reputation.'

  'That shows courage and I applaud you. What of this other fellow?' he asked with a glance over his shoulder. 'This demented Italian who tried to strangle you.'

  'Pietro Maldini is having a taste of what I've been through. He's learning just how unpleasant it is to be deprived of your liberty and flung into gaol among strangers.'

  After an hour of sustained misery, Pietro Maldini began to have second thoughts. The other prisoners would not leave him alone. He was ridiculed, cajoled, pushed, prodded and even tripped up for the amusement of the ragged assembly. The food he was given was inedible and the water too brackish to drink. Life as a Court musician had hardly prepared him for the squalor and intimidation of Newgate. When two men tried to steal the clothes from his back, he had to fight them off with all his strength. There was no way that he could keep them at bay indefinitely A turnkey appeared at the door and Maldini rushed across to him.

  'Take a message to Mr Bale!' he yelled.

  'Who?' said the other gruffly.

  'The constable I spoke to earlier.'

  The turnkey sneered. 'I'm not here to carry your messages.'

  'Please!' implored Maldini. 'Tell him I will do him that favour!'

  When he got back to his house, Christopher was pleased to see Jonathan Bale waiting for him in the parlour. The constable reported what had happened the previous night during his ill-fated vigil and described his long conversation with the Italian prisoner. Fascinated by what he heard, Christopher was disappointed that he was unable to speak to the man himself. He seized on one item of information.

  'At least, we know that the so-called Captain Harvest is still in London.'

  'He was taunting me,' said Jonathan. 'He knew exactly where I was.'

  'His boldness could prove his downfall. If he does not have the sense to remain hidden, he's bound to make a mistake sooner or later.' Christopher stroked his chin. 'What interests me is the suggestion that he and the fencing master were closer friends than we thought. Did the brother give no details?'

  'He knew none, Mr Redmayne.'

  'Were the two men involved in some other enterprise?'

  'We can only guess.'

  Christopher perched on the edge of his table. 'What happened when the body of Jeronimo Maldini was identified?' he asked. 'Did you not go to his lodging?'

  'We did, sir. His brother had been there first to take away anything of value as well as items that had a personal meaning for him. We searched the room thoroughly for any clues - letters, documents, a diary even - that would give us clear evidence of who the killer might be. There was nothing.'

  'Not even a ledger, showing the accounts from the fencing school?'

  'No, Mr Redmayne,' said Jonathan. 'It puzzled me at the time. Signor Maldini must have made money or he'd not have been able to rent the rooms where his fencing school was held. It was very popular yet there was no record of any income from it.'

  'There must be. How hard did you look?'

  'Two of us were there for half an hour.'

  'Would it be possible to search it again?'

  'Yes,' replied the other, 'the house is in my ward. I know the man who owns it. He spoke of Signor Maldini as a quiet, respectable gentleman who always paid his rent on time.' He smiled. 'Just as well he did not have Captain Harvest as a lodger.'

  'Go back,' urged Christopher. 'Take a second look. If the ledger is not there, find out where his brother lived. He may have taken it when he removed the valuables. Pietro Maldini will have no use for any of his belongings now.' Jonathan got up from his chair. 'Is there no chance that the man might talk to me?'

  'I fancy that he may come round in time.'

  'I'll call at the prison in due course.'

  'Please do, Mr Redmayne. I left instructions that he was to be moved to a cell on his own if he agreed to help us. The place where he's held now is like a menagerie.'

  Christopher saw him to the door and waved him off. Jonathan strode briskly in the direction of Fleet Street. Before he could get his horse from the stable, however, Christopher saw someone walking towards him from the Holborn end of the lane. It was Martin Crenlowe. The goldsmith was relieved to see him.

  'I was hoping to catch you in, Mr Redmayne,' he said, arriving at the door. 'I had business nearby and decided to take a chance on your being at home.'

  'Come in, Mr Crenlowe,' invited Christopher, taking him into the parlour and indicating a seat. 'You were the last visitor I expected.'

  Crenlowe sat down. 'I wanted to know how your investigations were going.'

  'We are making definite progress, I feel.'

  'Good, good. I've something to pass on that may be of help.'

  'What's that?' asked Christopher.

  'Captain Harvest - or whatever the damn fellow's name really is - came to see me yesterday. He has the audacity of the Devil himself. He told me some cock and bull story about needing to go abroad and tried to borrow money.'

  'Did you give it to him?'

  'I most certainly did not,' asserted the other. 'I warmed his ears with some ripe language and sent him on his way. He betrayed the lot of us yet all he could do was to laugh in my face. Anyway,' he went on, 'I came to tell you that the villain is still in London and that he's in disguise. He's shaved off his beard and dressed himself like a clerk of some sort. I hardly recognised him at first.'

  'What did you do after he left?'

  'I went straight to Covent Garden so that I could warn Sir Humphrey.'

  'I know, sir,' said Christopher. 'I called on him myself, as it happens, and arrived in time to see you and Sir Humphrey having some kind of disagreement.'

  Crenlowe was annoyed. 'Have you been watching me, Mr Redmayne?'

  'Not at all. I chanced to come along at that particular time. Sir Humphrey seemed very upset,' recalled Christopher. 'He was waving his arms about in the air. Why was that? Was it anything to do with your former friend?'

  'Yes,' admitted the other. 'My warning came too late. He'd already been there and Sir Humphrey had foolishly given him what he wanted. When I remonstrated with him, he lost his temper. I calmed him down and went on my way.'

  'Why did Sir Humphrey give the man some money when you did not?'

  'He's not always as guarded as he should be, Mr Redmayne.'

  'Could it be that the captain had some power over him?'

  "That scoundrel had a power over the lot of us,' confessed the other. 'He had the most extraordinary charm when he chose to use it and we were all at its mercy for a time. Apparently, it still worked on Sir Humphrey but I'm proof against it now.'

  'The charm obviously worked on
Signor Maldini as well.'

  'Yes, the captain often borrowed money from him.'

  'Was the fencing master able to afford it?' asked Christopher. 'His school was never short of pupils but I would not have thought it brought in a vast amount of money. Yet he never seemed to be short of it. If he had independent wealth, he'd not have needed to give fencing lessons. Where did his money come from, Mr Crenlowe?'

  'Who can tell? I never looked into the man's finances.'

  'I understand that he once commissioned a piece of jewellery from you.'

  Crenlowe started. 'Who told you that?'

  'Is it true?'

  'I never discuss my business affairs with anyone, Mr Redmayne.'

  "This one has a special interest for me.'

  'I'm not even prepared to confirm that it took place,' said the goldsmith.

  'Pietro Maldini has already done that for us and he has no reason to lie. Perhaps I should tell you that he is at present under lock and key at Newgate. After failing to kill me, he tricked his way into Henry's cell and attempted to strangle him.'

  'Heavens!' exclaimed the other. 'Did Henry survive?'

  "Thanks to the intervention of my friend, Jonathan Bale, he did. I did tell you that he was a remarkable man,' Christopher reminded him. 'Even Henry accepts that now.'

  'So he should. Tell me more. How and when did this all happen?'

  Christopher gave him a concise account of the events at the prison. The goldsmith was astonished that the attack had been allowed to take place and reassured to hear that Henry had come through it. He was impressed by what he heard of Jonathan.

  'You were right,' he conceded. 'I did not appreciate the constable's true worth. He not only tore the mask away from Captain Harvest, he's saved a man's life. Who would have thought Pietro Maldini desperate enough to act like that? We knew that our fencing master had a brother but none of us ever saw him.'

  "The captain did,' said Christopher. 'But let's return to this piece of jewellery.'

  'I told you, Mr Redmayne. All my transactions are strictly private.'

  'They must also be lucrative, Mr Crenlowe. Nothing in your shop would come cheaply. If Jeronimo Maldini commissioned something from you, it must have been expensive. Was he able to pay for it?' The goldsmith remained silent. 'Very well,' resumed Christopher, 'if you'll not tell me, I'll have to ask someone else.'

  'Who?'

  'Your client's brother - Pietro Maldini.'

  Mrs Cardinal was still annoyed that she had been rebuffed by Lady Holcroft and deprived of a companion for her visit to the shops. In the event, she remained at the house in the Strand and sulked. It took Susan Cheever a long time to mollify her, showering her with apologies and promising to go out with her that same afternoon. By the time that her son returned, Mrs Cardinal had recovered some of her good humour. Jack Cardinal joined the two of them in the parlour and sat opposite Susan.

  'Did you enjoy your ride with Lady Holcroft?' he asked.

  'Yes,' replied Susan. 'I enjoyed it very much.'

  'I've just been hearing about it,' said Mrs Cardinal, 'and it sounds rather dreary. Who could wish to be driven along crowded streets when she could have been helping me to choose some new additions to my wardrobe? But let's put that behind us, shall we?' she went on. 'Miss Cheever was hardly in a position to refuse the invitation. Now, then, Jack. What sort of a morning have you had?'

  'A rather dull one, Mother,' he said. 'Lawyers are such cautious creatures.'

  'Your father always called them a necessary evil.'

  'I seemed to be there for hours.'

  'What did you do after you left?'

  'I went to the coffee house nearby,' he told her. 'I knew that I'd meet some friends there and I was in need of more lively company. It was very pleasant.'

  'Whom did you meet?'

  'All sorts of people, including one whom I could cheerfully have avoided.'

  'Oh?' said his mother. 'Who was that!'

  'Egerton Whitcombe.'

  'Such an obnoxious young man!'

  'His manners have not improved since I last saw him,' said Cardinal. 'He's just returned from France and is staying here for a week or so. Lady Whitcombe and her daughter have come to London to welcome him back. According to Egerton, they've done nothing but argue since they met.'

  'That's unusual. Lady Whitcombe usually indulges his every whim. When Egerton is around, that poor daughter of hers is all but ignored.' She turned to Susan. 'Letitia is appallingly plain and totally lacking in any feminine virtues. She'll be around her mother's neck for ever.'

  'Not necessarily,' said her son.

  'What do you mean, Jack?'

  'The argument with Egerton concerned the new house that his mother is having built in London. The designated architect is none other than Christopher Redmayne.'

  Mrs Cardinal was contemptuous. 'He should be dismissed immediately.'

  'Why?' asked Susan, stung by the sharpness of her remark.

  'You know why, Miss Cheever. The man's name is impossibly tainted.'

  'Not if his brother is proved to be innocent.'

  "That's highly unlikely,' said Cardinal. 'The talk at the coffee house was that Henry Redmayne would be convicted of murder. It's what Egerton believes as well. That's why he demanded that Lady Whitcombe engages a different architect.'

  'She intends to keep Mr Redmayne?' asked his mother in amazement.

  'So it seems. Egerton vows that it will never happen. Unfortunately for him, Lady Whitcombe holds the purse strings. I fancy that she'll call the tune.'

  'But it's madness. Lady Whitcombe will be employing the brother of a convicted murderer. How can she possibly even consider someone with the name of Redmayne?'

  'Egerton thinks he has the answer to that.'

  'What is it?

  'His sister seems to be inordinately fond of this fellow.'

  'Does she?'

  'And he was very attentive to her.'

  'Was he?' asked Susan, feeling uneasy.

  'He thinks that Christopher Redmayne has gone out of his way to court Letitia so that he can secure this contract. That's what really provoked his ire,' said Cardinal. 'Lady Whitcombe even hinted that this architect could soon be linked to the family by the bonds of holy matrimony.'

  Mrs Cardinal was astounded. Susan felt as if her cheeks were on fire.

  The landlord was a short, bustling man with a bald pate. Having no objection to a second search of the room once occupied by Jeronimo Maldini, he led the constable upstairs.

  'It's exactly as you found it last time, Mr Bale,' he explained. 'All the furniture belongs to me except the desk. That came from Italy with Signor Maldini. His brother is going to arrange to have it moved.'

  '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 compartme
nts 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 twang 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.'