Steps to the Gallows (16 page)

‘Oh – what is it?’

‘That oaf, Yeomans, called on me this morning. When he saw that my window had been smashed, he offered to stay out there all night like a guard dog. I gave him short shrift and sent him on his way.’

‘What was he doing in Holborn?’

‘He was pretending that he came this way by chance, Peter.’

‘In other words …’

She laughed harshly. ‘Can you think of a more repulsive suitor?’

When his wife had told him about Yeomans’s interest in Diane, he’d only half-believed it. The Runner was very much a man’s man and so committed to his work that he had no time for dalliances of any kind. The latest news convinced Peter that his rival
had
developed an interest in Diane. He was unsure whether to be stunned or amused. A whole new aspect of the character of Micah Yeomans had come into view. It was a revelation.

‘Forget about him,’ she said, brusquely. ‘What have you and your brother been doing while I’ve been stuck here?’

‘I’ve been getting acquainted with Mr Gerard Brunt.’

When he told her about the way he’d resorted to the Hansard journals, she was taken aback. It would never have occurred to her to do some research of that kind. Like Peter, she thought that Brunt’s virulent attack on the
Parliament of Foibles
had marked him out as the most likely agent of the murder.

‘So my prints were mentioned in the House of Commons, were they?’ she said, chortling. ‘That’s fame, indeed.’

‘Fame or infamy?’

‘A little of both, I fancy.’

‘I must contrive a meeting with Mr Brunt somehow.’

‘Tell him that my caricatures of him sell extremely well.’

Peter grinned. ‘That news would not be well received.’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘now that I know how
you’ve
been spending your time, tell me about your brother. What has
he
been doing?’

‘Paul has spent the day at a cricket match.’

‘At a time like this?’ she asked with annoyance. ‘What can he possibly learn there?’

Paul Skillen couldn’t wait to get back to the gallery to tell the others about his good fortune. By the time he arrived, his horse’s neck and flanks were sleek with sweat. Charlotte and Ackford gave him a cordial welcome.

‘What was the match like?’ asked Ackford, eager for detail.

‘Gully!’ chided Charlotte. ‘Paul was not there to watch cricket. His task was to find Sir Humphrey Coote.’

‘I did both,’ said Paul. ‘I sat next to Sir Humphrey and managed to watch some superb cricket at the same time. What’s more, it didn’t cost me a penny.’

They were astonished to learn that he’d befriended Sir Humphrey and had a chance encounter with Julian Harvester, another of their suspects. Like Paul, they thought the fact that Harvester and Dr Penhallurick had been there together was significant. Had two of Virgo’s prime targets united to strike back at him?

‘You said that you actually
liked
Sir Humphrey,’ observed Charlotte.

‘He had great charm at first, Charlotte. It was only when I saw his eyes blaze that I realised there was another side to him. Harvester was also congenial company. I kept wishing that I could afford his tailor – though he needs to be more careful when he takes his snuff.’

‘Which of the two is more likely to plot someone’s murder?’

‘Both are capable,’ said Paul, ‘but neither may actually have been involved. That’s why I’m not jumping to any hasty conclusions. Each of them has the money and the influence to buy the release of prisoners from Newgate and each of them received a sound whipping in
Paige’s Chronicle
– Harvester for his obscene wealth and Sir Humphrey for his rampant promiscuity.’

‘Which is Dr Penhallurick?’ said Ackford. ‘Is he wealthy or promiscuous?’

‘I can’t speak for his inclinations, Gully, but if he can rub shoulders with Harvester, then he must be a rich man.’

‘Birds of a feather?’

‘That would be my guess.’

Ackford looked up at the clock on the shelf and realised that he was due to give instruction in fencing in a few minutes. He made his excuse. When he’d left the room, Charlotte pressed her brother-in-law for more information about Sir Humphrey.

‘Was he a handsome man?’

‘His knighthood makes him extremely handsome to some women, I daresay. A combination of rank and prosperity is almost irresistible.’

‘Not to me, Paul.’

‘You have too much self-respect.’

‘I also have a loving husband. When you’ve someone like Peter at your side, you never take an interest in another man.’

‘My brother would love to hear you say so, Charlotte. However,’
he went on, lowering his voice, ‘you’ve touched on something vexing me at the moment.’

She smiled knowingly. ‘Then it must be related to Hannah.’

‘It is, Charlotte.’

‘Are you worried because you’ve not heard from her?’

‘On the contrary, I had a letter only this morning. I was overjoyed at first. It was wonderful to hear of her performances and her adventures. After the initial joy, I began to have misgivings.’

‘Why – what did she say?’

‘It’s really a question of what was omitted.’

He went on to describe the contents of the letter. Charlotte was the only person in whom he could confide on such a personal matter. In the early days of his romance with Hannah Granville, there’d been misunderstandings that led to a separation between them and he’d sought his sister-in-law’s counsel. Her uncritical sympathy and her common sense had been a tonic. It was the reason he turned to her now.

‘Well,’ she said at length, ‘I can see why the letter has given you some food for thought but there’s no specific complaint in it. If something had been troubling Hannah, I’m sure that you’d have heard about it.’

‘Perhaps she’s too embarrassed to tell me about it.’

‘I’d never associate her with embarrassment, Paul. She’s one of the most self-possessed people I’ve ever met.’ He laughed. ‘In a profession like hers, one has to develop an inner toughness, as Hannah has certainly done.’

He was rueful. ‘Yes, I know, I’ve been its victim from time to time.’

‘Could it be that you’re imagining difficulties that don’t actually exist?’

‘I’d love to think that, Charlotte, but somehow I can’t.’

‘Has it preyed on your mind?’

‘There were moments when it got between me and the cricket match,’ he said, ‘but I put it aside most of the time. It’s bubbled back to the surface now.’

‘Then my advice is simple. Find out the truth.’

‘I can only do that by going to Paris.’

‘Go – Peter and Gully will understand.’

‘They’ll also be nettled by my sudden disappearance. And think of Jem – how will
he
feel if I stop hunting the man who almost killed him? It would hurt Jem dreadfully.’

‘In that case, you must stay and redouble your efforts,’ she said. ‘Today has yielded so much in the way of evidence – for Peter as well as for you. We may be closer to identifying the man we’re after than we think.’

‘You’re right,’ he said, purposefully. ‘Hannah must wait. While she’s inciting a murder on stage as Lady Macbeth, I’ll be trying to solve one in reality.’

Eldon Kirkwood pored over the document and read it with great care. He and his visitor were in the chief magistrate’s office in Bow Street. It was a long time before he raised his head.

‘I can’t fault it, Mr Brunt.’

‘Is the wording precise enough?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Will it make the law easier to enforce?’

‘In theory, it should do.’

‘Like me, you were trained as a lawyer and have always had a good legal brain. Of more importance, perhaps, is your instinct, honed, as it has been, by sitting in judgement on countless crimes.’

‘Am I to be your only counsellor?’

‘No,’ said Brunt. ‘I plan to show it to a couple of colleagues in the House.’

‘Both of them lawyers, I take it?’

‘Indeed, they are.’

‘There’ll be discrepancies,’ warned Kirkwood. ‘If you lock ten lawyers in a room and show them this document, you’ll get nine conflicting opinions and one man will reserve his judgement.’

Brunt’s laugh was like the rustle of leaves blown about in a high wind. He was a rather fleshy middle-aged man with a habit of hunching his shoulders and keeping his palms together as if in a state of continual prayer. Having met Kirkwood years earlier, he’d cultivated his friendship and flattered him on more than one occasion by asking him for an opinion of legislation he’d drafted. The magistrate handed the document back to him.

‘Thank you for coming to me,’ he said. ‘I feel honoured.’

‘I know that you have strong opinions on the laws of libel. It’s one of the things we have in common. Both of us have been maligned in print and in caricature. It’s time that we struck back hard at these vipers.’

‘The law already allows us to do so, Mr Brunt.’

‘It’s too blunt an instrument as it is. It needs to be more of a rapier and less of an unwieldy battleaxe. Don’t you agree?’

Kirkwood rose to his feet. ‘Sections of the press are very responsible,’ he said, ‘but there are those whose sole purpose seems to be to denigrate people in authority. In essence, freedom is a wonderful concept, but too much licence brings out the spirit of recklessness.’

‘People have to be kept in check.’

‘That’s the purpose of the magistracy.’

‘Thank you for your time,’ said Brunt, folding the document before slipping it into his pocket. ‘I needed the scrutiny of someone like you.’

‘I’m always at your disposal, sir.’

‘Have you never considered framing legislation yourself?’

‘Dear me – no,’ said Kirkwood. ‘I’ve no wish to enter Parliament.’

‘You’d make a worthy contribution, if you did so. I’d sooner welcome another lawyer like you than a doctor like Guy Penhallurick. You’ve probably heard that
he
has ambitions to join us,’ said Brunt with a sneer. ‘Who needs a doctor in the House of Commons? It will be a distraction. He’ll be besieged by Members asking for prescriptions to cure their sciatica or ease their haemorrhoids.’

‘I don’t blame them. Dr Penhallurick is reputed to charge exorbitant fees. If one sees an opportunity for a free consultation, one should take it.’

‘You’re probably right.’ Brunt looked as if he was about to leave then he thought better of it. ‘Tell me,’ he said, casually, ‘as a matter of interest, has any progress been made in the search for Mr Paige’s killer?’

‘Evidence is still being gathered.’

‘There was no love lost between Paige and myself but I’ll not speak ill of the dead. His murder is a reminder of the danger that’s ever present in this city.’

‘His killer will be caught and hanged.’

‘What steps have been taken?’

‘The Runners are out in force.’

‘Are they sanguine?’

‘They are officers of the law, Mr Brunt,’ said the other, ‘and they are very experienced. Where they are at the moment, and what they’re doing, I can’t rightly tell you. Of one thing I can assure you. They’ll catch the person or persons who perpetrated this terrible crime. I believe that Mr Paige was buried this afternoon. He will not be fully in peace until his killer has a noose around his neck.’

They waited until the early hours of the morning before they made their move. Armed with a lantern and kindling materials, they walked to the street directly behind Middle Row. On his earlier visit, Fearon had found a side entry beside one house. It led to a garden. If they could get into it, they would have access to all the gardens in the street and those in Middle Row. The side door posed no problems for Higlett. Once a burglar by trade, he was adept. It was the work of seconds to open the lock on the gate to the garden. They crept swiftly to the fence at the back and looked at the houses opposite, silhouetted against the sky.

‘How will we find the right one?’ whispered Higlett.

‘We do it by numbers, Sim. I counted eight in the terrace before I came to the print shop.’ He studied the looming properties beyond. ‘We’re too far to the right of it. Climb over the fence and we’ll work our way from garden to garden.’

‘What if we pick the wrong house?’

‘I don’t make mistakes like that,’ said Fearon, grimly. ‘Our orders are to burn her out. If we go to the wrong house, he’ll flay us alive.’

Chevy Ruddock was delighted with the change of plan. Instead of being sent to Covent Garden once again, he was in a more salubrious neighbourhood. There were no brothels and no stray harlots to bother him. Because he was able to walk up and down, there was also no danger of cramp. The print shop was his major interest. Every time he went past, he glanced across, conscious for the first few hours that he was being watched from the front bedroom. Eventually, however, the curtains stopped twitching. The street was silent and unthreatening.

His gentle patrol lulled him into a state of complacence.
Convinced that nobody would come and that nothing would happen, he let his mind dwell on the welcome that his wife would give him on his return. He was still luxuriating in his daydream when someone leapt out of the shadows at the corner of the street and clapped a hand over his mouth. Ruddock tried to struggle but he was held too tightly.

Suddenly, he was released. Yeomans was highly critical.

‘If I can do that to you,’ he said, ‘then
anybody
can.’

‘But there’s nobody about, Mr Yeomans. The street is empty.’

‘I was here and you didn’t even notice me. Why was that? Were you half-asleep or was your mind elsewhere?’

‘I’m sorry, sir.’

‘You were chosen, Ruddock. You were selected for this task because Mr Hale and I had faith in you. Keep your eyes open and your ears pricked. Look in every doorway, gaze up at every window.’

‘Yes, sir, I will.’

‘And don’t be caught out again.’

‘No, Mr Yeomans. Where will you be, sir?’

‘You don’t need to know that. Just do as you were told.’

The Runner vanished as quickly as he’d appeared. Ruddock blinked in the gloom and tried to work out where Yeomans had gone but it was impossible. He gave up trying and returned to his perambulation. A rider trotted by on a horse, hoof beats echoing. Two hazy figures came walking unsteadily towards him but, before they reached him, they let themselves into a house and shut the door. He was alone again. There was no sign of Yeomans and no movement of the curtains in the front bedroom of the print shop. After the noise and bustle of Covent Garden, the street was blissfully quiet. He schooled himself not to take it for granted. Bent on proving his worth, he was determined to remain alert.