The Parliament House Read Online Free PDF Page A

smile.'
        'He showed his victim no kindness,' remarked Bale, sharply.
        'How much did you see of him?'
        'Very little. Once I showed him to his room, he stayed there.'
        'Biding his time.'
        'How was I to know that?' she said, defensively. 'If I'd understood what business he was about - God help me - I'd never have let him set foot over the threshold. The Saracen's Head has high standards.'
        'You were not to blame, Mrs McCoy.'
        'I feel that I was.'
        'How?'
        'By letting that devil take a room here.'
        'That's your livelihood. Customers rent accommodation. Once they hire a room, you are not responsible for what they do in it.'
        'I am, if they break the law,' she said with a grimace. 'I should have sensed that something was amiss, Mr Bale. I should have sounded him out a little more. My dear husband would have smelled a rat.'
        'Patrick, alas, is no longer with us.'
        'Mores the pity. He'd have been first to join the hue and cry.'
        'You are still a valuable witness,' Bale told her. 'You met the man face to face. You weighed him up.'
        'Not well enough, it seems.'
        'Did anyone else here set eyes on him?'
        'Only Nan, my cook. He ran past her in the kitchen when he made his escape. It gave her quite a start.'
        'I'm not surprised,' said Bale. 'We may need to call on both of you at a later stage to help to identify him. Do you think that you'd be able to recognise Mr Field again?'
        'I'd pick that face out of a thousand.'
        'Good.'
        'Recognise him?' she howled, quivering with fury. 'Recognise that broken-nosed rogue? I'll never forget the slimy, stinking, turd-faced, double-dealing son of a diseased whore. May the rotten bastard roast in Hell for all eternity!'
        'He will, Mrs McCoy,' said Bale, calmly. 'He will.'
----

Chapter Three
        
        Christopher Redmayne waited until the next day before calling on them. In the interim, he had spoken with a couple of people to whom his brother, Henry, had introduced him, veteran politicians who had sat in the House of Commons long enough to become familiar with its deadly currents and treacherous eddies. Neither of them had spoken kindly of Sir Julius Cheever and Christopher had, of necessity, to conceal the fact that they were talking about the man whom he hoped would one day be his father-in-law. His brief researches into the murky world of politics had been chastening. When he rode towards Westminster in bright sunshine that morning, Christopher was unusually subdued.
        His spirits revived as soon as the house came into view. It had been built for Sir Julius so that he could have a base in the city during periods when parliament was sitting, or when he wished to spend time with his other daughter, Brilliana, who lived in Richmond. The property was neither large nor particularly striking but it had a double significance for the architect. It had been the first substantial commission he had gained without the aid of his brother and, as such, marked the beginning of his independence. Previous work had always come his way because Henry had used his influence with various friends. By no stretch of the imagination could Sir Julius be looked upon as a friend - or even a nodding acquaintance - of Henry Redmayne.
        But the house had a much more powerful claim to a place in Christopher's heart. It was the catalyst for the meeting between him and Susan Cheever, a relationship that had begun with casual interest before developing into a firm friendship, then gradually evolving into something far deeper. The promise of seeing her again made him sit up in the saddle and straighten his shoulders. He just wished that he could be bringing happier tidings on his visit.
        Arriving at the house, he met with disappointment. Sir Julius was not there. It gave him a welcome opportunity to speak alone with Susan but it was