this so worrying.'
'What was it about the Italian gentleman that enraged him so much?'
'Henry believed that he cheated at cards.'
'Is that reason enough to murder him?'
'To threaten him with murder,' said Christopher. 'And the answer is yes. Cheating is a cardinal sin to those who wager large amounts on the turn of a card. But there were other reasons why my brother disliked the fellow so intensely. I've yet to drag all of them out of him.'
'Go on,' encouraged Jonathan. 'I'm sorry to interrupt.'
'Signor Maldini was a hot-blooded man. When Henry threatened him, he drew his sword and would have attacked my brother there and then if the others had not pulled him away. It was, apparently, an ugly scene.'
'What happened then?'
'Henry and his friends rolled on to a tavern for supper. If they were not drunk when they went in there, they certainly were by the time they came out. They split up and went their separate ways. My brother had forgotten all about the quarrel with Jeronimo Maldini. The gentleman himself, however, had not.'
'He was lying in wait for your brother,' guessed the constable.
'Yes,' said Christopher, 'and he, too, was emboldened by drink.'
'It's the root of so much crime and evil in this city.'
'Henry went in search of a calash to take him home. Out of the shadows came Signor Maldini, still shaking with fury and demanding satisfaction. He was waving his rapier in the air.'
'Duelling is against the law.'
'That will not prevent it, Jonathan.'
'Did your brother draw?'
'He wore no sword,' said Christopher, 'and even if he had done so, he would have thought twice about taking on a fencing master in a duel. The only way he could defend himself was with his dagger and he remembers taking that out. In fact, it's one of the last things that he does remember.'
'Why?'
'He passed out. Whether from drink or fear or a combination of both, he does not know. Henry has a vague memory of a pain at the back of his head before falling to the ground so he might have been struck from behind.'
'By an accomplice of Signor Maldini?'
'Possibly.'
Jonathan pondered. 'It's not a convincing story,' he said at length. 'A man as skilful with a sword as a fencing master would not need a confederate. It would be a matter of pride to him to dispatch an enemy on his own.'
'Yet he left Henry untouched.'
'When did your brother recover his senses?'
'A watchman found him and helped him to his feet,' said Christopher, resuming the tale. 'There was no sign of the Italian. Henry's only concern was to get home safely so the watchman summoned a calash for him. When he got back to Bedford Street, the servants put him to bed.' He pursed his lips. 'They've had plenty of practice at that, I fear.' He tossed the piece of paper on to the table. 'I think I know what you are going to ask me, Jonathan.'
'Where was your brother's dagger?'
'It disappeared along with Signor Maldini.'
'According to the coroner, he was stabbed to death before he went into the river.'
"The dagger was still embedded in his back,' said Christopher. 'It bore my brother's initials and Henry was forced to identify it as his own. Yes,' he continued when he saw the doubt in his friend's eyes, 'I know that it's telling evidence against him but you have to remember the condition that my brother was in at the time.' 'Too sodden with drink to know whether or not he stabbed a man in the back.'
'He'd never do that, Jonathan.'
'Not even in self-defence?'
'What chance would a dagger have against a rapier?'
'Very little if the two men faced each other,' said Jonathan. 'However, if your brother chanced upon his adversary from behind, it would be a different matter.'
'I can see that you're not persuaded of his
'What was it about the Italian gentleman that enraged him so much?'
'Henry believed that he cheated at cards.'
'Is that reason enough to murder him?'
'To threaten him with murder,' said Christopher. 'And the answer is yes. Cheating is a cardinal sin to those who wager large amounts on the turn of a card. But there were other reasons why my brother disliked the fellow so intensely. I've yet to drag all of them out of him.'
'Go on,' encouraged Jonathan. 'I'm sorry to interrupt.'
'Signor Maldini was a hot-blooded man. When Henry threatened him, he drew his sword and would have attacked my brother there and then if the others had not pulled him away. It was, apparently, an ugly scene.'
'What happened then?'
'Henry and his friends rolled on to a tavern for supper. If they were not drunk when they went in there, they certainly were by the time they came out. They split up and went their separate ways. My brother had forgotten all about the quarrel with Jeronimo Maldini. The gentleman himself, however, had not.'
'He was lying in wait for your brother,' guessed the constable.
'Yes,' said Christopher, 'and he, too, was emboldened by drink.'
'It's the root of so much crime and evil in this city.'
'Henry went in search of a calash to take him home. Out of the shadows came Signor Maldini, still shaking with fury and demanding satisfaction. He was waving his rapier in the air.'
'Duelling is against the law.'
'That will not prevent it, Jonathan.'
'Did your brother draw?'
'He wore no sword,' said Christopher, 'and even if he had done so, he would have thought twice about taking on a fencing master in a duel. The only way he could defend himself was with his dagger and he remembers taking that out. In fact, it's one of the last things that he does remember.'
'Why?'
'He passed out. Whether from drink or fear or a combination of both, he does not know. Henry has a vague memory of a pain at the back of his head before falling to the ground so he might have been struck from behind.'
'By an accomplice of Signor Maldini?'
'Possibly.'
Jonathan pondered. 'It's not a convincing story,' he said at length. 'A man as skilful with a sword as a fencing master would not need a confederate. It would be a matter of pride to him to dispatch an enemy on his own.'
'Yet he left Henry untouched.'
'When did your brother recover his senses?'
'A watchman found him and helped him to his feet,' said Christopher, resuming the tale. 'There was no sign of the Italian. Henry's only concern was to get home safely so the watchman summoned a calash for him. When he got back to Bedford Street, the servants put him to bed.' He pursed his lips. 'They've had plenty of practice at that, I fear.' He tossed the piece of paper on to the table. 'I think I know what you are going to ask me, Jonathan.'
'Where was your brother's dagger?'
'It disappeared along with Signor Maldini.'
'According to the coroner, he was stabbed to death before he went into the river.'
"The dagger was still embedded in his back,' said Christopher. 'It bore my brother's initials and Henry was forced to identify it as his own. Yes,' he continued when he saw the doubt in his friend's eyes, 'I know that it's telling evidence against him but you have to remember the condition that my brother was in at the time.' 'Too sodden with drink to know whether or not he stabbed a man in the back.'
'He'd never do that, Jonathan.'
'Not even in self-defence?'
'What chance would a dagger have against a rapier?'
'Very little if the two men faced each other,' said Jonathan. 'However, if your brother chanced upon his adversary from behind, it would be a different matter.'
'I can see that you're not persuaded of his
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