Steps to the Gallows (12 page)

‘You did, Sim.’

‘Then I deserve my share.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ grumbled Fearon.

‘How much will you get paid?’

‘Enough.’

‘Maybe I should come with you.’

‘Why – don’t you trust me?’

‘We’re partners, Abel. We’re in this together.’

‘Then you ought to be able to trust me. Have I ever let you down before?’ Higlett shook his head. ‘No, I haven’t – and I’m not going to start now.’

‘I know.’

‘Then why are you bleating about equal shares? I never stint you. Take what you get and be glad.’

‘How long will you be?’

‘That depends on how long he keeps me.’

‘Where are you seeing him?’

‘It will be in the usual place, Sim. He’s a man for taking precautions.’

‘I still wonder what his name is,’ said Higlett. ‘I like to know the person I’m working for. This man is a complete stranger.’

‘He got us out of Newgate. That’s all that matters.’

‘Yes, but why did he pick
us
?’

‘I’m a handsome man.’ Fearon grinned. ‘He liked the look of me.’

Peter Skillen’s search was futile. Several of the neighbours remembered seeing the man on the galloping horse but nobody could give a description of him because he’d flashed past them at such speed. Other shopkeepers in Middle Row were simply grateful that it had not been their windows that had been smashed in. Apart from expressing sympathy for Diane Mandrake, they had little to say about the incident. When he returned to the
print shop, Peter found that the terrified servants had been flushed out of their room by Diane and ordered to get rid of the remaining debris. On their knees in the shop, they kept looking anxiously into the street as if expecting a second visit from the horseman.

Since the entire stock was now in the back room, Peter was able to look through all of the folders. They contained prints he’d never seen before. He hadn’t realised there were so many. It was an education for him. Virgo was well represented but there were many other excellent drawings, all with a sharp bite and many with grotesque obscenities. It was interesting to compare Virgo’s caricatures of certain politicians with others who chose the same targets. All had seized on a significant feature of each individual and magnified it to the point of absurdity. Peter noticed that Viscount Sidmouth still got some critical attention but it was the more flamboyant characters who tended to dominate the collection. Nothing he saw persuaded him to change his opinion of who the prime suspects should be. On the evidence of the prints, nobody’s name could either be added or taken away.

Sir Humphrey Coote was popular among all satirists, as was Gerard Brunt. Whenever Dr Penhallurick was introduced, he was always depicted offering bogus remedies to Lord Liverpool or to members of his Cabinet. Julian Harvester was also shown in the company of the prime minister, shovelling handfuls of money into Liverpool’s pockets by way of a bribe. Peter laughed out loud at some of the wicked comments and lewd innuendoes. When he looked at all of Virgo’s cartoons ridiculing Harvester, he saw something he hadn’t noticed before. Most of them had a sumptuous mansion in the background. Sketchily drawn, it nevertheless had a symbolic value.

Having calmed down Tite at long last, Diane peered over Peter’s shoulder.

‘What have you found?’ she asked.

‘It’s this mansion – at a glance, it tells you that Mr Harvester has immense wealth.’

‘I realise that every time I go past it.’

He looked up at her. ‘This place is
real
?’

‘It’s his London residence, Peter. He may be a commoner but Harvester lords it when he comes to town. Leo was enraged whenever he saw houses of that size. He thought it was disgraceful that a privileged few enjoyed such luxury while the masses lived in squalor and degradation. It’s what drove him on to pillory the idle rich.’

‘In fairness, some of them are far from idle.’

‘Yes, that’s true,’ she conceded, ‘they’re too busy making more money and seeking power over the rest of us. Leo wanted to call the series the
Parliament of Fools
but thought that it was too close to that poem by Chaucer, ‘Parliament of Fowls’. We scratched our heads for a long time before coming up with the title on which we settled. After all, the series is about the idiosyncrasies of politicians. Leo and Virgo mock their foibles.’

‘It’s an appropriate title for such astringent cartoons.’ Peter took a closer look at the print he was holding. ‘Do you happen to know how often Mr Harvester is in London?’

‘He spends most of his time here, by all accounts,’ she said, ‘and retires to the country for the winter. Virgo has drawn a good likeness of the mansion. He must obviously have seen it.’

‘I’d like to do so myself,’ he said. ‘Where exactly is it?’

‘I’ll take you there, Peter. It’s not far away. When you see the house, you’ll be overwhelmed by envy. Mr Harvester lives in a different world to us mere mortals.’

Abel Fearon was kept waiting for a long time. He began to wonder if he was in the wrong street. Yet it was where the previous meeting had taken place because it was a haven from the busier thoroughfares. He idled his time away by walking up and down and whistling tunelessly as he did so. The coach eventually veered into sight, drawn by four horses. Seeing Fearon, the driver hauled on the reins. When it came to a halt beside him, he removed his hat out of respect and opened the door of the vehicle. Beckoned inside, he sat opposite the sole passenger and pulled the door shut.

His companion was a middle-aged man in an impeccable suit and a hat with a tall, gleaming crown. Before he spoke, he removed a glove, plucked an enamelled box from his waistcoat pocket, flicked open the lid, took a pinch of snuff and inhaled it. While he was waiting, Fearon played with his hat and kept his head down. Putting the snuff box away, the man eventually deigned to look at him.

‘Well?’ he said.

‘I did as I was told, sir. I rode past the shop and threw a stone through the window. The glass was shattered.’

‘Was the woman there?’

‘I didn’t see her.’

‘What did you do next?’

‘I took the horse back to the stables I hired it from.’ He took out a stub of paper. ‘I have the receipt here.’

‘Throw it away.’

‘You told me to give it to you, sir. You said you’d give me fifty times the value of it for work well done.’

‘But your work was
not
well done, Fearon.’

‘Go to Holborn,’ urged the other. ‘See for yourself.’

‘There’s no need. I know you can be trusted to throw a stone
through a window. My concern is with an area in which you
can’t
be trusted.’

Fearon was perplexed. ‘We’ve followed your orders to the letter, sir.’

‘Did you?’

‘Yes, we did.’

‘Then why will the Bow Street Runners be lying in wait for you this evening in Covent Garden?’ Fearon was startled. ‘I’ll tell you. It’s because you were stupid enough to draw attention to yourselves. My orders were to stay out of sight and wait until you were needed again. Instead of that, you and your greasy friend cause mayhem in a brothel run by Doll Fortune.’

‘We did no harm, sir.’

‘You did a lot of harm. You injured two of the women and got yourselves talked about. By extension, you’ve also wounded me and I take exception to that. I chose you and Higlett on the advice of someone at Newgate. They said that you were fearless and would do anything I ordered.’

‘We will, sir, I promise you.’

‘Then you must keep your breeches on and control your lust.’

‘Sim and I were only—’

‘I know what you were doing,’ said the other with asperity. ‘The money was burning a hole in your purses so you decided to spend it on pleasure. You couldn’t be discreet about it, though, could you? That would have been out of character. So you choose the most exclusive brothel in the city and behave like a pair of rutting stags.’

Fearon was cowed. ‘How do you know about it, sir?’

‘You admit it, then?’

‘We’d not had a woman for a long time.’

‘If you disobey orders again, I’ll make sure that you and Higlett
will never be able to have a woman again.’ Fearon put a swift hand over his crotch. ‘How do I know about your disgusting antics? By chance, I’m a member of the same club as Mr Kirkwood. Does that name ring a bell?’

Fearon scowled. ‘He’s the chief magistrate. He sentenced me to prison.’

‘You’ll be sentenced to death if the Runners catch you. They were out watching Doll Fortune’s clients last night. Had you gone there a second time, you’d be in chains by now.’

‘Is this what Mr Kirkwood told you?’

‘It’s what I overheard him telling someone else. You can see why I took such an interest. I could guess who he was talking about – you and Higlett, two drunken idiots led astray by the twitching of their pricks.’

‘We wanted to celebrate, sir.’

‘Well, you won’t do it again,’ said the other, harshly. ‘You’ll lie low until I have further use for you. Disobey me again and you’ll wish you stayed in Newgate. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, sir, I do. I’m sorry, sir – we both are.’

‘Get out of the carriage.’

Fearon held up the stub. ‘What about this receipt?’

‘It’s worthless.’

‘But you promised to pay me, sir.’

‘
You
promised to do what you’re told.’

‘Don’t I get any reward?’

‘You’ve had it.’

‘Have I?’

‘Yes,’ snarled the other. ‘You and that halfwit are still alive.’

Fearon was shaken. ‘Are you telling me that …?’

‘That’s exactly what I’m telling you, man.’

‘We won’t let you down again, sir. I swear it. And Sim will
swear it as well. Give us a chance to prove our worth, sir. That’s all we ask.’

‘Get out of the coach.’

‘I promise you that—’

‘Get out!’ roared the other. ‘And leave the door open when you do. I need some fresh air in here to get rid of the stink.’

Paul Skillen was too impatient to wait until evening. Keen to find out if his trust in a one-legged old sailor had been misplaced, he set off for the tavern where they’d first met. Because he was not posing as a riverside habitué this time, there was no need for any disguise. He wore a light-blue coat with brass buttons and long tails, pantaloons strapped under the shoe, a dark-blue waistcoat, a frilled shirt and a large muslin cravat. On his previous search, he’d ended up at the Jolly Sailor. This time it was the first place he visited. To his delight, he saw the old man nursing a tankard in a corner. Paul went across at once and sat at the same table. The man was astonished to see such a debonair gentleman choosing to sit beside him.

‘What have you found out?’ asked Paul.

Legge was confused. ‘Who are you, sir?’

‘I asked you to make enquiries about Abel Fearon.’

‘Oh, I see … Bricklaying pays better than I thought.’

‘What did you discover?’

‘I asked lots and lots of people about Fearon.’

‘Did you find out where he is?’

‘No, sir,’ replied the other, ‘but I did learn something. I met a man who’d been in Newgate with the two of them.’

‘
Two
of them?’

‘They were devils, he said. Everyone was glad when they were let out.’

‘Are you talking about a friend of Fearon’s?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘It was Higlett, sir. Sim Higlett is just as bad as Fearon. That’s what I was told.’ He moved his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other. ‘I’m sorry, that’s all I can tell you.’

‘It’s a help,’ said Paul, slapping some coins on the table. ‘Thank you, my friend. We know who both of them are now.’

It was a mistake to let Diane Mandrake drive him there in her curricle. Peter would have been far safer in the saddle of his horse and he would have heard far fewer expletives on his journey. She drove as if she was trying to outrun a pack of highwaymen. He was grateful when they swung round a corner and she pulled on the reins. On the opposite side of the road was the mansion he’d seen in some of the prints. In reality, it was much bigger and more luxurious than he’d been led to believe. Set well back from the road, it had a semicircular drive. Julian Harvester owned one of the finest dwellings in London.

‘What do you think of it?’ she asked.

‘I hadn’t realised the scale.’

‘Can you see why it made Leo’s blood boil?’

‘I can see why Virgo included it in all of his caricatures.’

‘He loathed it.’

‘The place speaks volumes about the man who lives there.’

‘It’s disgusting for one man to have so much wealth.’

The clatter of hooves made them turn their heads. A gig was heading in their direction. It was being driven at a much more sedate pace than Diane’s curricle had been. When it drew level with them, it turned into the drive but not before Peter had been able to take a close look at the driver.

‘Did you see who that was?’ he asked.

‘His face is familiar but I can’t really place it.’

‘Go back to the shop and study Virgo’s prints again,’ he advised.

‘Why?’

‘That face appears in many of them.’

It slowly dawned on her. ‘Now that you mention it …’

‘Yes, Mrs Mandrake. We’ve just had our first sighting of Dr Penhallurick.’

Higlett was still hunched over the table, trying to remember the rules of the particular game of patience that he was playing. From time to time, he added variations of his own, turning over a second card if the first one he picked up was unsatisfactory and changing that as well if it was not what he’d hoped for. By a combination of cheating, swearing and ignorance of the game, he slowly manoeuvred himself into a winning position. When he turned over the last card, he let out a whoop of joy and banged the table with a fist. It would be something he could boast about to Fearon.

When his friend appeared soon after, however, he was in no mood to hear about Higlett’s card game. He was simmering with anger at the way he’d been treated in the carriage. It had been humiliating.

‘Did you see him, Abel?’ asked Higlett.

‘Yes, I did.’

‘How much did he give you?’

‘Nothing at all.’

‘But he promised you a reward.’

‘I didn’t get it, Sim.’

‘Why not?’

‘We disobeyed his orders.’

‘Who cares about his frigging orders?’

‘He does. From now on, we stay in all night.’

‘That’s ridiculous. We’re entitled to—’

Fearon cut him short by grabbing his collar and lifting him to his feet.

‘We were too hasty,’ he explained. ‘When we went to Covent Garden the first night, we got ourselves noticed.’

‘That was your fault. You shouldn’t have bitten her like that.’

‘Shut up!’

‘I could hear her screams from the next room.’

‘Shut up, I said. Shut up and
listen
.’

He reinforced the command by pushing his friend roughly away. Though he protested loudly, Higlett could see that Fearon was talking in earnest. He was far too dangerous a man to cross. Without interrupting, he listened to what had happened when his friend had climbed into the carriage. By the end of the recitation, he was thoroughly chastened.

‘We’d have been walking into a trap tonight,’ he said, fearfully. ‘That’s why we must stay here.’

‘But there are women all over London. Forget about Covent Garden. We’ll find juicier fruit somewhere else.’

‘Haven’t you heard what I said?’ demanded Fearon.

‘Yes – we keep away from those two places we went before.’

‘We follow orders. If we don’t …’

He ran a hand quickly across his throat in a dramatic gesture. Higlett gulped.

‘He’d have us
killed
?’

‘Yes,’ said the other, ‘he would.’

‘But we’ve done him a lot of favours.’

‘They don’t count.’

‘He can’t have us murdered.’

‘He can do what he likes, Sim. He
bought
us. We’re his slaves.’

‘I’m nobody’s slave,’ said Higlett with token defiance.

‘I dare you to tell him that.’

Higlett thought better of it. On the one occasion he’d met the man who’d arranged their early release from prison, he’d been struck by his peremptory manner and by the ruthless glint in his eye. Confrontation with him would be a form of suicide. He sought another way out.

‘Let’s cut and run, Abel,’ he advised. ‘We’ve got plenty of money left. I say that we disappear from here and enjoy spending it.’

‘And what happens when he finds us?’

‘We make sure that he doesn’t.’

‘How do we do that?’

‘There are hundreds of places to hide in London.’

‘He’d track us down somehow, however long it took. Men like him never give up. We’d always be looking over our shoulders. Is that the kind of life you want?’

‘It’s better than being treated as a slave.’

‘We’re slaves who get
well paid
,’ Fearon reminded him.

‘You didn’t get a penny today.’

‘That was a punishment because we sailed too close to the wind.’

‘We needed women,’ complained the other. ‘It’s only natural.’

‘We can have as many as we like when things die down, Sim. Right now the Runners are looking for us. There’s a price on our heads so we need to be careful. Also,’ he continued, ‘there’ll be further work for us. That means another full purse. Until then, we do as we’re told.’

‘Can’t we get a doxy or two up here?’

‘No, we can’t.’

Higlett pulled a face. ‘So what do we do while we wait for a call?’

‘We play cards,’ replied Fearon, grabbing a flagon of ale and taking a long swig from it before handing it to his friend, ‘and we drink until we keel over.’

Peter Skillen returned to the gallery and told his wife and his brother what had happened. Charlotte was alarmed on Diane Mandrake’s behalf.

‘She
spurned
your offer of help?’

‘She turned me down flat, my love. Mrs Mandrake said that there was no need for me to stay the night there. They can manage on their own.’

‘Who else will be there with her?’ asked Paul.

‘Mr Tite, who works in the shop, and the servants – that’s all. Tite is not what I’d describe as able-bodied and the servants will make poor sentinels. I know that Mrs Mandrake has a weapon but she could be up against the killer.’

‘Did you suggest that she might stay with you and Charlotte?’

‘I pressed her to do so.’

‘What was her answer?’

‘She said that she’d never desert her property. If there was going to be a second assault on it, she had to be there to deal with it.’

‘Diane is too brave for her own safety,’ said Charlotte with a sigh.

‘You might say the same of Paul and me.’

She smiled. ‘I’ve said it a hundred times, Peter, but you take no notice.’

‘We were born with a sense of adventure,’ remarked Paul. ‘You can’t deny what’s in your blood, Charlotte.’

Peter was curious. Having told them about his visit to the
print shop, and of his subsequent drive in the curricle to the home of Julian Harvester, he was eager to hear what his brother had learnt. Paul talked about his discoveries at the King’s Bench Prison and, even though she’d heard his story before, Charlotte was still fascinated. She simply could not understand why anyone would choose to stay locked up when he had the money to pay off his debts. Peter was glad that they’d finally solved the mystery of who’d actually produced the cartoons. Paul described his second visit to the Jolly Sailor.

‘Did anyone know where Fearon might be?’ asked Charlotte.

‘No,’ replied Paul, ‘I’m afraid not. But the man I paid did glean one important piece of information – the name of Fearon’s accomplice.’

‘Who is he?’

‘Sim Higlett – he was in Newgate with Fearon, it seems. Someone arranged for them to be let out together.’

‘I’ll see if we have any mention of him,’ said Charlotte, reaching for her record book. ‘I don’t recall the name but he may be in my collection.’

‘What can you tell us about him, Paul?’ asked his brother.

‘I simply know that he’s as bad as his partner,’ said Paul. ‘They’re a gruesome pair, by the sound of it, and made themselves very unpopular in prison. Which one of them killed Paige, I don’t know, but it’s likely to be the same man who gave Jem such a beating.’

‘I’m sure that Jem would love to be there when we catch him.’

‘I don’t blame him, Peter.’

‘Well, at least we know who we’re actually looking for. Yeomans and his men are looking for two phantoms. We have names and – in the case of Fearon – a good description of what he looks like.’

‘You’ll have to be satisfied with that,’ said Charlotte, flicking
through the pages. ‘There’s no Higlett in here, so I can’t even tell you why he was put in prison. Is there any way to find out?’

‘Newgate is nowhere near as lax and obliging as the King’s Bench,’ said Paul. ‘We’ve tried to get information out of them before and they insist that their records are confidential. That’s as it should be, I suppose. Unlike the Runners, we have no warrant to make enquiries like that.’ He turned to Peter. ‘I was interested to hear that you saw Dr Penhallurick at Harvester’s mansion. That puts two of our suspects under the same roof. Are they in league with each other?’

‘It’s conceivable,’ said Peter, ‘but it may just be that Penhallurick is his physician and was calling on Harvester today to relieve his gout or whatever affliction he suffers from.’

‘His affliction is having far too much money.’

Peter laughed. ‘Then it’s one I wouldn’t mind having myself.’

‘What about our other suspects?’

‘I found out something interesting about them. Sir Humphrey Coote may be an inveterate lecher but he has his good side as well. It turns out that he’s obsessed with the game of cricket. I admire him for that. It’s a game I love, but I’m prepared to make the supreme sacrifice. You can go in my stead, Paul.’

‘Go
where
?’ asked his brother, mystified.

‘To Thomas Lord’s cricket ground,’ said Peter. ‘I’ve seen the handbills advertising a match tomorrow. It’s between two Select Elevens of all England. The finest players in the country will be on display. If he’s
that
avid a spectator, Sir Humphrey is certain to be at the match. You’ll be able to take a close look at him.’

‘Don’t I get to watch the cricket as well?’

‘That’s up to you, Paul.’

‘Where will you be?’

‘I’ll be checking up on our other suspect – Gerard Brunt. He
was trained as a lawyer and is always trying to get new laws on the statute book or to amend existing legislation.’

‘Where are you going to meet him?’

‘Oh, I won’t see him in person,’ said Peter. ‘Parliament is in recess at the moment but, according to no less a person than the Home Secretary, Brunt will be working on speeches to deliver in the Commons when it reconvenes.’

‘So what do you intend to do, Peter?’ asked his wife.

‘I plan to find out how his mind works, my love. If he likes pontificating in Parliament, then there’ll be a record of exactly what he said. While Paul is watching a cricket match in St John’s Wood, I’ll be getting acquainted with Mr Gerard Brunt in the pages of Hansard.’

As evening shadows lengthened, Yeomans and his men descended on Covent Garden. Every member of the foot patrols was there. After speaking to them as a group, and stressing the importance of their night’s work, he handed them over to Alfred Hale who read out the list of places to which each of them was deployed. They scattered immediately and went off to take up their respective positions. A killer was likely to be abroad and there was a sizeable reward for his capture. Hoping that he would be the one to encounter the villain, each man had his own seductive vision of heroism.

Chevy Ruddock was the exception to the rule. He thought only of his wife.

‘Agnes keeps asking why I have to stand guard over a church,’ he said, morosely, ‘and I can’t think of an answer.’

‘Tell her that you’re the guardian of precious relics,’ suggested Hale.

‘Or that the archbishop asked for you by name,’ added
Yeomans. ‘When you tell a lie, make sure that it shows you in a good light. It helps a wife to sleep more easily if she feels that her husband has achieved something.’

‘But I haven’t,’ moaned Ruddock.

‘Tonight may be your night.’

‘What makes you think that, Mr Yeomans?’

‘We’re dealing with slavering dogs,’ said the other. ‘When the sun goes down, Covent Garden is full of gorgeous bitches on heat. Once they get that smell in their nostrils, the dogs find it irresistible. They’ll be here.’

‘Let someone else watch Mrs Fortune’s house.’

‘To start with, Ruddock, she is not a married lady. Doll has a ring on every finger but none of them happens to be a wedding ring. The second thing is that Alfred went to great trouble to work out the best use of our resources. Believe it or not,’ said Yeomans, ‘yours was the first name on the list.’

‘You should be pleased about that, Chevy,’ said Hale.

‘I am,’ said the other, ‘but I find that watching a brothel is … unsavoury.’

‘You have an unsavoury occupation in an unsavoury city, lad. The sooner you accept that, the better it will be for you. Besides, it will be an education for you. Doll attracts the cream of society.’

‘Yes,’ said Yeomans. ‘Step in there and you’re likely to see members of the peerage romping about. Covent Garden is a version of Eden for some people. Having said that, it’s nothing like the den of iniquity it used to be in the old days. Do you know how John Fielding, the Blind Beak, who helped to found the Runners, described it? He said that you would imagine that all the prostitutes in the kingdom had chosen this particular rendezvous. Think of that, Ruddock. Everywhere you went here at night, you
were likely to trip over a naked woman open and ready.’

‘The place was full of gambling houses and Turkish baths in those days,’ said Hale. ‘Are you partial to a hot bath with four female hands to soap you, Chevy?’

‘No,’ exclaimed Ruddock in alarm.

‘You should broaden your horizons.’

‘I don’t want to, Mr Hale.’ He moved away. ‘I’ll get off to my station.’

‘If you see anything of interest,’ Yeomans called after him, ‘you know where to find us. We’ll be in the Peacock.’ He grinned at Hale. ‘We frightened Ruddock away, Alfred. He’s still a little raw at times.’

As they set off for the tavern, a clock chimed in the distance.

‘In another hour,’ said Hale, ‘it will be dark and the night people will come out to play. Will our killer be one of them?’

‘There’s no doubt about it. He and his friend have come here two nights in a row. They’ll be back again tonight to revel in the fleshpots. This is our big chance,’ said Yeomans, rubbing his hands together. ‘It will be a case of third time lucky.’

Higlett was getting progressively more restive. Having drunk ale steadily for hours, he was playing cards with Fearon and losing money at every turn. Frustration eventually got the better of him.

‘This is no way to spend an evening,’ he said, truculently.

‘It’s the way it has to be, Sim.’

‘Think of all those lonely nights we spent in Newgate.’

‘They were hardly lonely,’ said Fearon. ‘We shared the place with the scum of the earth. If they weren’t snoring, they were farting all night like cart horses.’

‘But there were no
women
, Abel.’