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would react if the information fell
into his hands and he vowed to do all he could to prevent that from occurring.
        'Make
a list of your intimates,' he advised.
        'Why?'
said Henry. 'No true friend would betray me.'
        'Someone
did. If I'm to help, I need to be more familiar with your circle, Henry. I know
that Arthur Lunn is a crony of yours. Peter Wickens, too, and Gilbert Sparkish,
if memory serves me. Who else? Sir Marcus Kemp?'
        'Sir
Marcus would die to save my reputation.'
        'Let
me be the judge of that,' said Christopher. 'I'll not badger you now but I must
have a list of names so that I can begin my enquiries. Take heart, brother. It
may not be as bad as you envisage.'
        Henry
shuddered. 'Oh, it is. Believe me.'
        'Meanwhile,
carry on as if nothing had happened.'
        'But something has happened,' complained Henry, close to hysteria. 'My whole future is in
the balance. I can hardly pretend that I'm not concerned about the threat.'
        'That's
exactly what you must do,' urged Christopher. 'Don't give this rogue the
pleasure of seeing you suffer, Henry. Fight back. Put on a brave face and show
him that you're not so easily discomfited.'
        'But
I'm terror-stricken!'
        Christopher
was moved. Even allowing for his brother's tendency to dramatise and exaggerate,
he could see how shaken
        Henry
was. The warning letter had left him thoroughly dazed. If and when the crisis
blew over, it was possible that Henry might even start to mend his ways. That
was another reason to come to his aid.
        'Do
as I suggest,' said Christopher, 'then leave the rest to me. I'll not discuss
this with anyone so your shame will not be noised abroad. Whatever you do, you
must not give in to blackmail. It's a despicable crime and we'll catch the
villain behind it.' He patted his brother's shoulder. 'Bear up. We'll come
through this somehow.'
        'Will
we?'
        'Of
course.'
        Henry
managed a pale smile of gratitude. Having shared his grim secret, he felt as if
his load had been marginally lightened. Christopher was a younger brother who
seemed, in many ways, much older than him. Where Henry was impetuous,
Christopher was cool and objective. He was also an extremely resolute man. In
the circumstances in which Henry now found himself, his brother was the ideal
ally. Henry softened.
        'Forgive
this whining self-concern,' he said with a gesture of apology.
        'I
heard no whining.'
        'You
have news of your own and all I can do is bury you up to the neck in my
affairs. It's reprehensible on my part. What's this about a new commission?'
His interest was genuine. 'In Northamptonshire, you say?'
        'Yes,
Henry.'
        'How
did you come by it?'
        'I
was recommended by Elijah Pembridge.'
        'The
bookseller?'
        'The
very same,' said Christopher. 'Thanks to you, I was able to design his new shop
and he was sufficiently pleased with it to pass my name on to a friend.'
        'Do I
know the man?'
        'I
doubt it. He was a colonel in Cromwell's army. He's been immured in the country
for the last six or seven years and is only forcing himself to reside in London
because he is looking to become a Member of Parliament.'
        'More
fool him! What's his name?'
        'Sir
Julius Cheever.'
        Henry
was curious. 'Cheever? No relation of Gabriel Cheever, by any chance?'
        'Sir
Julius could be his father, I suppose,' said Christopher. 'I know that he has a
son called Gabriel but I also know that he's disowned him for some reason.'
        'Then
it has to be the Gabriel I know.'
        'What
makes you say that?'
        'No
father would approve of such a son.'
        'Why
not?'
        'Because
Gabriel Cheever makes me look like the patron saint of chastity,' said Henry
with a mirthless laugh. 'He's one of the most notorious rakehells in London.'
        'When
do you intend to leave?' asked