Steps to the Gallows (19 page)

‘Glad I cort ya, Mr Skillen,’ he said. ‘Gorra message for ya, sir.’

Paul was bewildered. ‘Who are you, lad?’

‘I’m Snapper, sir. Ya ’members Snapper.’

‘I’ve never seen you before. Wait a minute,’ he added as light dawned, ‘I
have
heard that name before. My brother mentioned a Snapper.’

‘Ya mean ya ain’t Mr Skillen?’

‘I’m
Peter
Skillen. The person you met was Paul Skillen.’

‘They’re twins,’ explained Charlotte.

Snapper was amazed. ‘Ya looks juss like ya brother,’ he said,
staring at Peter. ‘I gorra twin sister bur Lizzie ain’t nothin’ like me to look at.’ He glanced around the room. ‘Where’s the other Mr Skillen?’

‘He’ll be back soon,’ said Ackford. ‘What’s the message, Snapper?’

‘Virgo wants to see ’im.’

‘Do you know why?’

‘Yeah – ’e’s needed ergent.’

It was a tiring walk back to the tavern. On previous occasions, Fearon had been dropped off at the spot where he was picked up in the first place. This time, as a mark of disgrace, he was left a long way away from his destination. When he finally got there, he came into the room in a surly and uncommunicative mood.

‘What happened?’ asked Higlett.

His friend ignored him and reached for a flagon of ale. After taking a long swig, he slumped into a chair and stared at the window. Seeing the state he was in, Higlett was hesitant.

‘What kept you so long?’ There was no answer. ‘You were gone for ages.’

Fearon had another mouthful of ale. His mind was miles away. It was several minutes before he even noticed that somebody else was in the room with him. Higlett was watching him open-mouthed.

‘Don’t look at me like that!’ snapped Fearon.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’ve got things to think about.’

Higlett smirked. ‘How much did we get?’

‘What for?’

‘He owes us money for burning down that shop.’

‘It’s still standing.’

‘It can’t be,’ said Higlett with passion. ‘There was a big bonfire when we left. How can you say that it’s still standing?’

‘We went there.’

‘Didn’t he take your word, Abel?’

‘He refused. We went to Holborn. The shop was still standing and, even worse, the woman who owns it was out in the street. She didn’t seem to be injured in any way at all.’

Higlett was baffled. ‘How did she escape the fire?’

‘They must have put it out somehow.’

‘It was blazing when we left.’

‘That’s what I told him.’

‘What did he say?’ Fearon remained silent. ‘It was hard work getting over those fences. We could have been seen and caught. Didn’t he realise that? We want paying for the risks we took.’

‘I told him that as well.’

‘What was his reply?’

Fearon went off into another trance. His friend quickly wearied of standing there and waiting for answers that never came. He shook his friend’s shoulder.

‘Tell me what he said.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Well, it matters to me,’ said Higlett, confronting him. ‘You went off in that coach and you didn’t come back for ages. Why not? What happened? There must be something you can tell me.’

Fearon was roused. ‘How do you know about the coach?’

‘It was … just a guess.’

‘You followed me, didn’t you? When I left here, you followed me.’

‘Yes, I did,’ retorted the other, going on the attack. ‘I’m fed up with being the one left behind while you get to meet him and
handle any reward. It’s not fair, Abel. What’s the point of being friends if you shut me out all the time?’

Fearon leapt out of the chair and grabbed him by the throat.

‘Be quiet, you frigging idiot!’ he snarled.

Higlett gasped. ‘You’re hurting me. I can’t breathe.’

‘I’ll tell you what he said to me. We let him down again. If we ever did that again, he promised – and he really meant it – that he’d have us strung up naked by our feet then skinned alive before being dipped into a vat of acid. Think about that, Sim. Think about someone slicing bits off your carcass and you’ll see why I came back in the state I did.’ He flung Higlett on to the mattress and stood over him. ‘But I warn you,’ he said, pulling out a dagger and brandishing it in the other man’s face, ‘if you
dare
to follow me again, I’ll kill you myself and save him the trouble.’

Paul Skillen returned to the gallery to learn about the summons from the prison. He gave Ackford an attenuated account of events at the cricket ground, taking care to make no reference to Hannah Granville. That was a private matter.

‘So you didn’t see Mr Harvester this time?’ said Ackford.

‘He wasn’t there, Gully. I searched.’

‘Yet you told us that he loved watching cricket. What kept him away?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Paul, ‘but I can tell you what kept Dr Penhallurick away this time. He’s not really interested in the game. It sent him to sleep yesterday. He’d much rather ride around in a coach he borrowed from Sir Humphrey Coote.’

‘I thought the doctor was Harvester’s friend.’

‘He latches on to anyone with power and wealth.’

‘That’s his reputation,’ said Ackford. ‘He’s a great sponger. But there’s something you should know before you charge off.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Last night, there was another attack on the print shop.’

Paul was horrified to hear that someone had tried to burn the place down. He was highly sympathetic. The news about Yeomans’ earlier part in saving the house came close to making him froth at the mouth.

‘It’s our responsibility to look after Mrs Mandrake. We can’t have a Runner showing us up like that.’

‘Peter vowed that it wouldn’t happen again.’

‘He’s right, Gully. We mustn’t give Yeomans a chance to crow over us.’

‘Then we have to catch the killer before he does,’ said the other. ‘You get off to Southwark. Leo’s brother wouldn’t send for you unless it was urgent.’

‘Why didn’t he come himself?’

‘I can’t tell you that.’

‘He has licence to leave the prison.’

‘I know. I met him at the funeral.’

‘Why did Snapper bring the message and not Mr Paige?’

‘You’ll soon find out.’

Micah Yeomans enjoyed a celebratory drink at the Peacock. During the night, a fire had been put out, lives had been saved and he had won deserved thanks from the woman he coveted. As he explained to Alfred Hale, there’d been additional gains. The first was his warm reception by the chief magistrate.

‘Mr Kirkwood praised me to the skies,’ said Yeomans, complacently.

‘And so he should. You guessed that the print shop would be in danger.’

‘It was no guess, Alfred. It was pure instinct.’

‘Chevy Ruddock deserves a kind word as well.’

‘Yes, yes, of course.’

‘Did you mention his name to Mr Kirkwood?’

‘I did so a number of times,’ lied Yeomans.

‘Good – we have to encourage the lad.’

‘He acted well in a crisis.’

‘That’s what we’ve taught him to do, Micah.’

‘He’s modelled himself on us.’

‘There’s no better training for him,’ said Hale. ‘What happens tonight?’

‘We’ll go back on patrol again.’

‘Does Mrs Mandrake know we’ll be there?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘What did she say when you told her?’

‘Well, she wasn’t as grateful as I expected,’ admitted Yeomans. ‘I offered to take her to a place of safety but she refused to come. Diane – Mrs Mandrake, that is – is resolved to stay at the shop. If she did leave, she claimed, she’d go to friends.’

‘And we know who they’d be – the Skillen brothers.’

‘Where were they last night when they were needed?’

‘Snoring in their beds, most like.’

‘While I protected her.’

‘Strictly speaking,’ said Hale, ‘it was Ruddock who did that. He was outside the shop when he realised it was on fire. He told me so himself.’

‘Don’t believe everything Ruddock says.
I
was first into the property.’

‘And you battled with the fire for a long time. It’s left its mark on you, Micah. Half of your eyebrows have disappeared. It makes you look years younger.’

‘Does it?’ said the other, brightening at the thought that he
might now be more appealing to his beloved. ‘Perhaps I should keep them trimmed.’

‘What does your wife say about them?’

Yeomans was bitter. ‘She didn’t recognise me at first.’

‘I’ll wager that Mrs Mandrake did.’

‘Yes, Alfred, she did.’ A fond smile touched his lips. ‘Rescuing her and the house were the major triumphs last night but there’s another one to add.’

‘I know – the brothers were shown up for the fools they are.’

‘Peter and Paul Skillen have no place in law enforcement. When we’ve caught whoever was behind the murder and the fire,’ said Yeomans, lifting the remains of his eyebrows to maximum altitude, ‘we can enjoy the pleasure of a visit to the shooting gallery to trumpet our victory.’

Raising his tankard, he swallowed the last of his ale with a thunderous gulp.

As soon as he reached the King’s Bench Prison, Paul realised that something serious had happened. Snapper was waiting for him at the main gate. Instead of wanting to ride Paul’s horse, the boy tethered it and led the visitor to the room occupied by Virgil Paige. The door was firmly shut. Snapper knocked four times, waited, then knocked again another three times.

‘Thass wor ’e told me to do, sir,’ he explained.

‘Why?’

‘No strangers muss ger in there.’

The chair wedged up against the door was moved so that it could be eased far enough ajar for Paige to look out. Opening the door wide, he ushered Paul inside, thanked Snapper, sent him on his way then closed the door again before putting the chair back in place.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Paul.

‘I wish I knew, Mr Skillen.’

‘Why couldn’t you come to the gallery?’

‘I was stopped at the gate.’

‘I thought you had special privileges.’

‘They’ve been withdrawn,’ said Paige, sourly, ‘but that’s not the worst of it.’

‘Oh?’

‘I’ve been here long enough to earn respect. Nobody bothers me and nobody would dare to come in here while I’m out taking exercise. Earlier today, that all changed. When I tried to venture out of the prison, the gatekeeper refused to let me go. He said that he’d had orders from the marshal himself. So I came back here and was shocked to find that it had all gone.’

‘What had?’

‘Everything I used to produce my caricatures, Mr Skillen. While I was away, they were kept in a locked cupboard. Someone broke into it.’

‘Can’t you complain?’

Paige gave a hollow laugh. ‘To whom, I ask? As well as debtors and those in here for defamation, we have our share of thieves and footpads. Look through that window and you’ll see dozens of possible suspects.’

‘I thought you said that you were respected in here.’

‘I was. Everyone left me alone and kept away from my room. It was a sort of unwritten law. Somebody broke it.’

Paul was worried. ‘Last time I came here, you talked about having peace of mind,’ he said. ‘That seems to have gone altogether now.’

‘It has, Mr Skillen, and it was my own fault.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘I went to my brother’s funeral.’

‘You were fully entitled to do that, Mr Paige.’

‘I think I was followed,’ said the other. ‘I fancy that somebody asked why I had the urge to attend that particular funeral when there was hardly anyone else there. I met your own brother, by the way, and a Mr Ackford. It was kind of them to come.’

‘Had I not been busy elsewhere, I’d have attended myself.’

‘Grief bestows its own blindness. Like Leo, I usually know if someone is stalking me but I was too caught up in my bereavement. All I wanted to do was to get back here to be alone with my thoughts.’

‘I understand.’

‘Someone
knows
,’ said Paige, solemnly. ‘Someone knows that I’m Virgo.’

‘That’s very disturbing.’

‘It’s somebody with influence, that’s clear.’

‘The likelihood is that it’s the person we seek,’ said Paul. ‘He has the power to control access in and out of prison. The men who killed your brother were released from Newgate and you were stopped from leaving here even though you had a legitimate right to do so. Did you question the marshal?’

‘I tried to do so, Mr Skillen.’

‘What happened?’

‘He refused to see me.’

‘You deserved an explanation.’

‘I got that when I returned here and found that my things had been stolen. That’s why I have to exercise great care. Snapper is the only person who knows how to make me open that door. That lad has been a godsend to me.’

‘I’ll remember to slip him a coin or two when I leave.’

‘He saw something that may be significant.’

‘What was that?’

‘This may be fanciful supposition on my part,’ said Paige, ‘but I’m reduced to the position of grasping at straws.’

‘What did the lad see?’

‘Well, we live in mean accommodation here, as you can see, but the marshal does not. He has splendid apartments outside the prison. Snapper was playing with friends at the gate when he saw a fine coach roll up. When it stopped at the marshal’s lodging, he came out in person to welcome his guest. He’d only do that for someone of real importance.’ Paige bit his lip. ‘An hour later, I was stopped from leaving the prison. Is that what the visitor came to demand?’

Julian Harvester took the bottle from him and held it up to the light to examine the liquid inside. After putting the bottle on the table, he looked at his visitor.

‘Are you sure that this will solve the problem?’

‘It will ease the discomfort,’ replied Penhallurick. ‘That’s all I can claim.’

‘I want a cure, Guy, and not simply a way of subduing the pain.’

‘The cure lies in your own hands, Julian. You must look to your diet. If you eat less and cut down on your consumption of wine and brandy, your abdominal woes will eventually disappear. There is, of course, another way we can proceed.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Let me open you up and I may be able to cut out the problem altogether.’

‘Oh, no,’ protested Harvester, a hand on his stomach. ‘That’s out of the question. I’d sooner suffer than commit myself to your scalpel.’

‘So be it.’

Guy Penhallurick was a tall, solid, good-looking man in his early fifties with a patrician air. His voice had the distinctive burr of the West Country. As well as being a friend of Harvester, he was his physician.

‘I’m surprised to find you here this afternoon,’ he said. ‘I thought that you’d be at the cricket match for the second day.’

‘I had pressing business to attend to,’ explained Harvester.

‘Nothing comes before cricket. That’s what you told me.’

‘Ordinarily, that’s the case. I can see that
you
weren’t tempted to return to St John’s Wood again.’

Penhallurick gave a mock yawn. ‘It was an essay in sustained boredom.’