Shadow of the Hangman (25 page)

‘There’s something else I’d like you to ensure, Mr Skillen.’

‘What is it?’

‘Persuade Mrs Horner that she mustn’t return to the Home Office.’

‘She may well not wish to do so. The ordeal she’s undergone, as
a result of her work there, may deter her from ever going near the place. If, however, she did decide to go back, I would do nothing to dissuade her from that course of action.’

‘But you must see how awkward it would be for me.’

‘That’s immaterial, sir.’

‘I’ll
pay
you to keep her away.’

Peter was appalled. ‘Then I’ll respond in the same way as Mrs Horner. I’ll return the money along with a dusty answer. When I accepted this commission,’ he said, ‘it was not in order to safeguard your sensibilities. A woman’s life is at stake. I will not remind you why. Rescuing her is all that matters in the first instance.’

‘There’s something you don’t know,’ said Beyton, drawing himself up. ‘I am on the verge of promotion. I’ve been told in confidence that I have been singled out as a future undersecretary. That’s a position of some significance, Mr Skillen. I’ll not have it compromised by the presence of an unwanted cleaner.’

‘The lady was not always unwanted.’

‘Get rid of her somehow, that’s all I ask.’

‘Then you are asking the wrong person,’ said Peter, resolutely. ‘Mrs Horner is able to make decisions without any advice from me. If she
does
choose to return to her old job at the Home Office, she will have my full support.’

It was not until the afternoon that Dermot Fallon joined them on the vessel. He came aboard with his dog and a large leather bag. While the three men went off to the cabin, the dog ran below deck in the hopes of repeating its success by killing rats at speed. Fallon put the bag on the table and opened it, taking out enough food and drink to keep them supplied for days. The last two items he produced were wrapped in pieces of cloth.

‘What have you got there?’ asked O’Gara.

‘There’s one for you, Tom, and one for Moses.’ He took off the cloth. ‘There you are – a pair of duelling pistols.’

‘I don’t want to shoot Moses.’

‘I know that but you’ll want to defend yourself in a tight corner.’

‘That’s true.’

O’Gara picked up one of the weapons and examined it. Dagg was less interested in the pistols. His major concern was with the injuries he’d picked up in the fight. He had cuts and bruises all over his body and both his hands were swollen. His knuckles were raw. Every time he moved, he felt a shooting pain.

‘This is a fine pistol,’ said O’Gara, approvingly. ‘It’s well balanced.’

‘I bought plenty of ammunition.’

‘What kept you away so long?’ asked Dagg.

‘I had a lot to do,’ replied Fallon. ‘It’s not often that I have so much money to spend so I enjoyed it. Mary and I shared a pie together then I gave her enough money to last a week or more. Things have gone quiet in the court since Kearney killed himself. Before too long, I may be able to move back in there.’

‘We’ll stay here. It suits us.’

‘We belong on the water,’ said O’Gara. ‘I’m looking forward to a voyage across the Atlantic – when we’ve done all that’s needful here, that is.’

‘When that time comes, you’ll need this,’ said Fallon, slapping a pile of banknotes down on the table. ‘That will buy you both a passage and leave you with money to spend.’

‘Thanks, Dermot.’

‘Moses earned it.’

‘How much did you pay for these duelling pistols?’

Fallon laughed. ‘I didn’t exactly pay for them, Tom. They sort
of jumped into my bag, the little rascals, and just wouldn’t get out.’ He thrust his hand into the bag again and drew out a battered newspaper. ‘I also helped myself to this in case there was any news of that committee looking into the massacre.’

‘They
must
listen to our demands.’

‘Captain Shortland deserves to be hanged,’ said Dagg.

‘If there’s nothing in today’s edition,’ promised Fallon, ‘I’ll steal another one each morning. We don’t want to miss the verdict, do we?’

‘No, Dermot, we don’t.’ Dagg picked up the other pistol. ‘If it’s the
wrong
verdict, of course, I’ll be arranging a little duel with the Home Secretary.’

‘You won’t get the chance,’ boasted O’Gara. ‘I’ll have shot him dead.’

Though he’d intended to return to the gallery by a different route, Paul Skillen nevertheless walked past the theatre and awakened his demons. He reminded himself that their estrangement arose from her concern for his safety. His response emanated from a
deep-seated
refusal to let anyone else take decisions about his life. The result was a stalemate. From his point of view, it was poisoned by the fact that Hannah, in such an unconscionably short time, had found a substitute for him. While she still occupied
his
mind, Paul had been consigned to her past without a second thought.

When he reached the gallery, he was still simmering with regret. Charlotte was talking to Gully Ackford as he entered the room. Their greeting earned only a grunt by way of acknowledgement.

‘Have you been living the life of an Irishman again?’ she asked.

‘No, thank you,’ said Paul, grimacing. ‘Most of them are almost destitute. Conditions in Ireland must be truly terrible if they’re
driven to come here and live in the rookeries. They’re like so many ants in a giant anthill.’

‘So where have you been today?’

‘I’ve been doing your husband’s bidding, Charlotte, and it’s your fault. You were the one who identified Jane Holdstock. Since she was that interested in archery, she would need a bow.’

‘That’s right,’ said Ackford, taking over. ‘She’d asked me where she could buy one and I suggested a few places. Paul got the same names off me.’

‘I hadn’t realised how many people spend their leisure time in the butts,’ said Paul. ‘Now that we have so many firearms, I thought that bows and arrows were things of the past but there are clubs for archers keeping an ancient sport very much alive. Thanks to Gully, I found the shop where Mrs Holdstock went and she did indeed buy a small bow, suitable for a child, and a quiver of arrows.’

‘So she
does
have a nephew,’ said Charlotte in surprise.

‘I wonder if the lad realises that his aunt is also a kidnapper.’

‘What did you find out about the lady, Paul?’ asked Ackford.

‘I merely confirmed everything that you said about her, Gully. She was a handsome woman with a quiet confidence and a determination to say very little about herself. I’d love to know why.’

‘So would we all,’ added Charlotte.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Jem Huckvale popped his head into the room to tell Ackford that one of his pupils had arrived for a lesson in the boxing ring. The older man went out immediately, leaving Paul alone with Charlotte.

‘This all began when a cleaner was abducted from the Home Office,’ she said.

‘Yes, it did and the maddening thing is that we still don’t know why.’

‘Peter may do so but he’s keeping the information to himself.’

‘That means he’s bound by a solemn promise, Charlotte.’

She smiled inwardly. ‘He made several of those to me at the altar.’

‘Sometimes it’s dangerous to know too much.’

‘That’s why I never press him, Paul. He won’t break a confidence.’ She looked up at him. ‘By the way, you’ll have to be quick if you wish to see that play I recommended.
Venice Preserv’d
ends its run next week.’

‘I’ll … let it pass, I think.’

‘You’ll be missing a theatrical triumph.’

‘So it appears.’

‘Peter is going to be so cross when he hears what happened to me this morning,’ she said, gaily. ‘He fell madly in love with Hannah Granville. Wait until I tell him that I actually met her.’

Paul tensed. ‘Where was this?’

‘It was in a shop in Piccadilly. I went in to look at some fabrics and Miss Granville came in with this fine-looking young man. I couldn’t resist going over and telling her how much we enjoyed her performance.’

‘How did she react?’

‘Rather strangely, as it happens.’

‘Oh – in what way?’

‘Well, I wasn’t the only person to offer a compliment. Others did so as well and she accepted their comments with obvious pleasure.’

‘What happened when
you
spoke to her?’

‘She was very pleasant at first then she made it very clear that she didn’t wish to talk to me.’

‘Why was that?’

‘I really don’t know,’ said Charlotte. ‘To be honest, she was
extremely rude. In anyone else, it would have been unforgivable but I suppose that we must make allowances for someone in her profession. And her odd behaviour doesn’t obscure the fact that she’s still giving the most remarkable performance in that play.’

Paul could take no more. Excusing himself, he left the room.

It had been a bruising encounter for the Bow Street Runners. When they’d tried to make some arrests at the old warehouse, they’d met stern resistance and been bitten by a dog. Their high hopes had foundered. As they made their way to the Home Office late that afternoon, Yeomans and Hale both walked with a limp.

‘It pains me to say this,’ Hale began, ‘but Ruddock may be right.’

‘Don’t mention that idiot’s name to me.’

‘You didn’t think he was an idiot when he told us about the fight.’

‘No,’ admitted Yeomans, ‘that’s true. We only learnt of the event because of his quick thinking. Perhaps I was too hard on the lad.’

‘Looking back, I think we both were, Micah. What Ruddock suggested may be a good idea, after all. The fact is that we
did
track down the wanted men and that’s more than the Skillen brothers managed to do.’

‘What’s the point of tracking them down if we don’t arrest them?’

‘We deserve credit for trying,’ argued Hale. ‘There were hundreds packed into that warehouse and we were hopelessly outnumbered. The Doctor needs to be told that. It might convince him that we need to increase the size of the foot patrols. There’s some advantage in this for us, Micah.’

‘Possibly,’ said the other, mulling it over. ‘We certainly acted bravely last night, Ruddock included. He tackled the nigger. You and I were both injured in the execution of our duties, so that might
be brought to the attention of the Doctor. We may have failed in our objective but we got within inches of the fugitives and deserve plaudits for that.’

‘You agree, then?’

‘I do, Alfred.’

‘And we must put in a word for Chevy Ruddock.’

‘Why?’ asked Yeomans. ‘We don’t want anyone else to share our glory. All that he did was to stumble upon the fact that the Black Assassin might be one of the men we were after. It was left to us to organise the raid. Keep his name out of it.’

When they reached the Home Office, they saw that the carriage was there to take Sidmouth home. They were let into the building and only had to wait a few minutes before he came out to them, putting on his hat in readiness for departure. Yeomans seized his moment and told him about the raid on the warehouse and the attempted arrest of O’Gara, Dagg and Fallon. He made much of the wounds inflicted on them by the dog and insisted that they needed more men at their disposal in future. Sidmouth listened to it all with an interest edged with slight suspicion. He had the feeling that he was being given a highly edited account of what happened.

‘Who first realised that these men would be there?’ he asked.

‘We did, my lord,’ said Yeomans, boldly.

‘You must have had good intelligence.’

‘We always do.’

‘Then why didn’t you communicate it to Peter and Paul Skillen? They have been retained to arrest these men.’

‘There was no time to involve them, my lord,’ said Hale, quickly. ‘We either had to take prompt action on our own or allow the fugitives to escape.’

‘So we did what you would have expected of us,’ said Yeomans,
‘even though we acquired some wounds in the process.’

Keeping his reservations to himself, Sidmouth congratulated them on showing initiative and courage. All three of them left the building and climbed into the waiting carriage. As it rolled away from the kerb, Sidmouth broached a new topic.

‘You’ll no doubt recall your raid on that tenement behind Orchard Street.’

Yeomans nodded. ‘It remains fresh in our minds, my lord.’

‘A man killed himself there yesterday by jumping from a high window. A verdict of suicide will be returned but that may not explain what really happened.’

‘Do you know the fellow’s name, my lord?’

‘It was Donal Kearney, a chimney sweep.’

Since he was seated opposite them, Sidmouth could see their startled reaction. Kearney had obviously been the informer who’d helped them. As a result, his position in the tenement had become hazardous. The chimney sweep, Sidmouth reasoned, had chosen to die before he was killed by his vengeful neighbours.

‘It’s no use having spies,’ he warned the Runners, ‘unless you take adequate steps to protect them.’

Even though he was expecting the letter to come, David Beyton was still jolted when it actually arrived. He had to wait until all his colleagues had left the building before he was able to read it. The instructions were terse and peremptory. He was reminded that he had to go to the appointed place alone or there would be dire consequences, both for him and for Anne Horner. Thrusting the letter into his pocket, Beyton left the Home Office guiltily and made his way to Peter Skillen’s house. He was invited in and taken to the drawing room. Shown the instructions, Peter noted that they
were in the same handwriting as the earlier missives and felt once again that it was the work of a woman who was presumably Jane Holdstock. Evidently, she had no compunction about issuing a death threat. Without saying a word, Peter left the room and was away for several minutes. When he returned, he unfurled a map of London and placed it on the table. Both men crouched over it.

‘You are to walk around Grosvenor Square,’ said Peter, indicating the place on the map. ‘You’ll be watched every inch of the way. If anyone else appears to be with you – or lurking nearby – they will do exactly what they threaten.’