‘You are right to criticise us, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘We acted too quickly and too unwisely. I’m hoping that we can put that mistake behind us.’
‘Have you come to make another one in its place?’ asked Hamer, cynically.
‘We’ve come to ask for your help, sir.’
‘First, you arrest me and now you have the gall to court me.’
‘You want the killer as much as we do, Captain Hamer.’
‘You’re wrong. We want him far more. For you, he’s simply one more villain out of the many you’ve pursued during your career. For me, this is a very personal matter.’
‘It’s true,’ added Carr. ‘That’s why we don’t want the Skillen brothers to be the first to unmask him. The killer is a prize we reserve for ourselves.’
‘But it’s our duty to arrest him,’ said Hale. ‘We’re Runners.’
‘You’ve barely learnt to walk properly, man, let alone run.’
‘Insults will get us nowhere,’ cautioned Yeomans. ‘Mr Carr has just given us another reason for cooperation. We share a mutual dislike of Peter and Paul Skillen. They have been a nuisance to us for many years – nay, “nuisance” is too mild a word. The Skillens have been a positive menace.’
‘I can see why,’ agreed Hamer. ‘We, too, have had our problems with them.’
‘They need to be controlled, that’s all,’ said Carr.
‘It’s a question of working out how best to do that.’
‘We tried and failed,’ admitted Hale.
‘The more obstacles you can strew in their path,’ said Hamer, ‘the better. But what’s this talk of cooperation? How can you possibly help us, Yeomans?’
‘We can help each other,’ replied the Runner.
‘How do we do that?’
‘We go back to your dispute with Mr Bowerman. You and Mr Carr went to Putney Heath in the firm conviction that the duel would take place. Correct?’
‘Yes, that’s correct.’
‘Everything was about to go as planned,’ said Carr, ‘when you and your cohorts suddenly jumped out of the bushes.’
‘Do you know why we did that, sir?’
‘Someone betrayed us.’
‘We can’t wait to get our hands on him,’ said Hamer, malevolently. ‘If you know his name, we demand that you release it.’
‘The letter that reached us was unsigned,’ Yeomans told them. ‘One thing, however, was unmistakable. It was not written by a man at all. The hand was clearly that of a woman. Now, gentlemen,’ he went on, ‘can either of you suggest who that woman might be?’
Hamer and Carr stared at each other in surprise.
Peter Skillen was no stranger to the bank. He and Paul had had many commissions from Leonard Impey, most of them involving either the transfer of large sums from one place to another or the recovery of stolen money. Banks were natural targets for robbers. Runners like Yeomans and Hale derived a comfortable income from London banks, which retained them as guards at certain times every month. Country banks were especially vulnerable and Runners were often paid to pursue those who’d robbed them. Like many other bank managers, Impey had learnt that the Runners had severe limitations. Effective at frightening potential thieves away, they were less reliable when investigating more complex cases. Because of their superior rate of success, Peter and Paul were therefore often in demand. They were deemed to be more intelligent, resourceful and, crucially, more honest.
As he entered the bank, Peter saw a smile of gratitude light up the gloomy countenance of the chief clerk. Peter could see he was needed. Shown into the manager’s office, he shook hands with Impey.
‘Thank goodness you’ve come, Mr Skillen!’
‘There was a faint whiff of desperation about your summons,’ said Peter.
‘We’ve had a minor calamity.’
‘If it was an armed robbery, I trust that none of your employees was hurt.’
‘It was not an armed robbery,’ said Impey with bitterness. ‘If anything, it was a case of theft by disarming. Take a seat and you shall hear what happened.’
When they’d both settled down, Impey gave a full account of the forgery. He didn’t spare himself. He confessed that he’d been cunningly wooed by Mrs Mallory and that he’d been tortured by regret ever since. He heaped praise on his head clerk for exposing the fraud and wished that he’d had the sense to have the man present during the discussions with their new client. His narrative ended with an apology.
‘I should have listened to your advice, Mr Skillen.’
‘It’s a simple precaution,’ said Peter. ‘As soon as a complete stranger, however attractive, presents you with a bond or comes in search of a substantial loan, it’s sensible to check their credentials. If they claim to be newcomers to the capital, get someone to confirm that the address they’ve given you for their stay here is a correct one. I guarantee that you’ll find the hotel whose name was given to you by this Mrs Mallory will have no record of her as one of their guests.’
‘We’ve already established that fact.’
‘But you did so after the event. The damage was already done.’
‘You’ve no need to censure me,’ said Impey. ‘I’ve scourged myself soundly, I promise you. When I think how easily I was deceived, I ache all over. This will cast a dark shadow over my future here. Unless we can somehow recover the money, I will face demands for my resignation. You’ve saved me before,’ he went on, extending his arms in a plea, ‘do so again, I implore.’
‘I’ll do what I can, sir.’
‘Is there a glimmer of hope that you will succeed?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Peter. ‘Mrs Mallory – or whatever her real name is – may have used her charms to obtain money by forgery but she’s also left a firm imprint on your mind of what she looks like. You’ll be able to give me a very accurate description of the lady and so, I fancy, will your chief clerk.’
‘She was unforgettable, Mr Skillen.’
‘It will be easier to trace someone who is so distinctive.’ He took out a notebook. ‘Paint a portrait of Mrs Mallory for me.’
Impey winced at the mention of a portrait. It had been one of the many lies that he’d accepted without question. Shamefaced and embarrassed, he gave a detailed picture of her, drawing attention to her voice and deportment. Peter noted everything down carefully.
‘What is your first step?’ asked the manager, anxiously.
‘It’s to issue a warning, sir. I am not free to devote all my time to this case because I am already involved in the pursuit of a man wanted for murder. But I will do my best to deal with both crimes in parallel. You will simply have to be patient.’
‘I know that forgery is a lesser crime than murder but my future is at stake here. Yes, it was my own fault, I admit that freely. I just ask that you show some pity and understanding.’
‘There is one thing I can do immediately,’ said Peter, rising to his feet. ‘I’ll go to the Bevington Hotel.’
‘But we already know that Mrs Mallory is not staying there.’
‘She may well have done so in the past, sir. Why pick that particular hotel if she was not familiar with it? If she has used it before, they will certainly recognise her from the description you’ve given to me.’
‘That’s true, Mr Skillen.’
‘The other avenue open to us, of course, is Mr Picton. How could the lady have a letter purportedly written by him if she didn’t have some contact with the man? Correspondence of some sort must have passed between them.’
‘I never thought of that.’
‘Out of courtesy,’ Peter told him, ‘Mr Picton ought to be made aware of the way that his name was misused. He’ll be very annoyed.’
‘He’ll be very annoyed with me, I know that.’
‘I’d suggest that he be allowed to see the forged bond.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Impey, opening a drawer in his desk. ‘I have it here.’
‘Of equal interest to Mr Picton, of course, is the letter of introdu
ction he is supposed to have drafted, but I daresay that Mrs Mallory was careful to retain that.’
‘She was, Mr Skillen.’ Coming around his desk, he handed over the bond. ‘Thank you so much for responding to my call. You’ve already given me some comfort.’
‘When you spoke of the lady,’ remembered Peter, ‘you spoke of her dainty feet. No matter how dainty, they’ll have left large footprints for me to follow. And there may be another source of comfort for you, sir.’
‘I’m in sore need of it.’
‘You will not be the only victim of her guile.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘We are dealing with a greedy woman,’ said Peter. ‘If the bond had been for a much smaller amount, your chief clerk would not have been quite so suspicious. Mrs Mallory’s demand was excessive. And since she was given money so willingly by you, she’ll go in search of other amenable bank managers.’
When she heard that Paul Skillen had called on her again, Laetitia Somerville was eager to see him and to hear if his investigation had borne fruit. She therefore had him shown into the drawing room where she was reclining on a sofa. Head bowed in grief, Laetitia was wearing her black dress.
‘I’m sorry to intrude, Miss Somerville,’ he said, gently. ‘I know that you’re not in the mood for visitors.’
‘I’m not in the mood for anything at the moment, Mr Skillen.’
‘I wish that I was able to bring you good news for a change. While I’m still bent on locating the man who killed Mr Bowerman, I have no real progress to report.’
‘He must be caught and hanged,’ she said.
‘He will be. I give you my word.’
‘Thank you, sir. I have every faith in you.’
‘What I can tell you, however, is that the inquest will take place tomorrow. I was told of the arrangements just before I came here.’
She was flustered. ‘Am I expected to be present?’
‘That won’t be necessary.’
‘There’s nothing I’d have to say.’
‘Nobody will call upon you.’
‘I’d find it too distressing to bear, Mr Skillen.’
‘Then you must stay away. It will, perforce, be a relatively short event. The coroner’s verdict is easy to predict. Mr Bowerman was killed by a person or persons unknown.’
‘Someone must be called to account,’ she insisted.
‘They will be.’
He looked at her more closely. Sorrow had veiled her beauty, aged her visibly and left a rather unprepossessing visage in its place. Her eyes were dead, her cheeks hollowed and the corners of her mouth turned down. Paul compared her unfavourably with Hannah Granville. Whatever the situation, she never lost her essential loveliness. If she was angry or sad, excited or passive, her beauty continued to dominate. Indeed, when her temper flared and her eyes blazed, she was at her most alluring.
‘May I ask if Captain Hamer has been in touch with you?’ he said.
‘I’ve not heard a word from him.’
‘Not even a letter of condolence?’
‘He knows that my door is barred to him.’
‘We’ve been finding out curious details about him,’ said Paul. ‘It turns out that he never held a captaincy and, after a court martial, he was ejected from his regiment.’
She sat up in astonishment. ‘Where did you learn this?’
‘It came from the most reliable source – the War Office.’
‘Well, well,’ she said, ‘that does come as a shock. Are you certain of this?’
‘I am, Miss Somerville. Something about the fellow struck a jarring note.’
‘Then I’m glad I’ve done with him.’ She appraised him for a moment. ‘You are a clever man, Mr Skillen. You are also very thorough.’
‘It’s a tool of my trade,’ he explained. ‘There’s something else you should know about the former Lieutenant Hamer.’
‘What is it?’
‘He’s trying to scare me away.’
Paul told her about the raid on the gallery and how he was convinced it was the work of Hamer and Carr. Having confronted them, he was certain that they’d make another attempt to hamper his investigation. Listening carefully to every word, Laetitia was especially interested to hear that he had a twin brother.
‘To whom am I speaking at the moment?’ she asked.
‘I’m Paul Skillen.’
‘How can I be sure of that?’
‘My brother had no dealings with Mr Bowerman. He was a client of mine who became a good friend. Peter never even met him.’
‘Yet he’s prepared to search for his killer.’
‘In an emergency like this, we always help each other.’
‘That’s … reassuring to know,’ she said, slowly.
‘At the moment, of course, it’s your assistance I seek.’
She drew back slightly. ‘What can I possibly tell you?’
‘You can explain how you came to meet Sir Geoffrey Melrose.’ He saw the confusion in her eyes. ‘You surely remember him, Miss Somerville. I met him myself this morning. Sir Geoffrey is a man who makes a lasting impression. It was at his dinner party that you first met Mr Bowerman.’
‘Of course,’ she said, recovering quickly. ‘I did meet him but it was only on that one occasion. All I recall of that dinner is the fact that Mark came into my life. That blotted everything else out.’
‘How did you come to be invited to Sir Geoffrey’s house?’
‘As it happens, I went there with a friend.’
‘May I ask his name?’
‘It was a woman friend,’ she said.
‘Could you provide me with her name and address?’
She was guarded. ‘Why should you wish to speak to her?’
‘I’d like to hear her memories of that dinner party as well.’
‘That may be difficult,’ said Laetitia. ‘Some time ago, I heard that she’d moved to France and was seriously ill. She may not still be alive.’
Irritated at first that the Runners should dare to call on them, Hamer and Carr were glad that they’d spoken to them. They’d learnt that Yeomans and Hale were not the complete buffoons they’d imagined. They had a good record of arrests and – judging by the quality of their apparel – they contrived to make policing the city a lucrative task. Their antipathy towards the Skillen brothers had pleased Rawdon Carr. He wanted to know everything they could tell him about the way their rivals operated. In particular, he’d wanted to know what their weak points were. Hamer, on the other hand, was still trying to digest the information that a woman was responsible for the abandoned duel. As soon as their visitors had left, he rounded on Carr.
‘Did you hear what they said? We were thwarted by a woman.’
‘All that we know, Stephen, is that a woman wrote the letter. The most likely thing is that it was dictated to her by a man.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘What better way to hide his identity?’
‘A man could easily have scrawled the details in such a way as to disguise his hand completely. No, Rawdon, we made a startling discovery today. If for nothing else, I’m grateful to the Runners for that.’ His brow wrinkled in thought. ‘Who could it possibly have been?’
Carr smirked. ‘There are rather too many suspects,’ he said. ‘You’ve seduced and cast aside any number of women since you came to live in London. One of them wanted to get even with you.’
‘But how could she possibly know about the duel?’
‘Vengeful women will go to any lengths, Stephen. You should know that by now. The arrangements were secret but someone might have passed on the details if offered enough money. That would be my guess. One of your mistresses is behind this. She chose her moment with care.’
‘But what did she stand to gain?’
‘What women always crave. They want satisfaction.’
‘I can’t see that anyone would be satisfied with merely disrupting an event like that. The one explanation is that it was an ad
mirer of Bowerman, desperate to stop me putting a bullet inside his stupid head.’
‘Yes,’ said Carr, ‘that’s a possibility as well. In fact, now that I think about it, that may be a more convincing answer.’
‘What about the murder?’
‘No woman was capable of that, Stephen. It was a task for a man.’
‘Yet a woman was involved. Bowerman was tricked by a letter that seemed to come from Laetitia.’
‘In that case,’ decided Hamer, ‘we are looking for two women – one who cared enough for Bowerman to save him and another who wanted him dead. How could such a dry and humourless fellow interest two passionate women? It’s beyond my comprehension.’ About to walk across the room, he came to a dead halt. ‘There is one person capable of forging a letter, of course …’
‘You can rule her out at once.’
‘She’s a malicious little bitch.’
‘There’s just one problem,’ said Carr. ‘Rumour has it that she’s been struck down by a malady and is unlikely to recover. Besides, she moved to Paris months ago so we can definitely leave her out of our list of suspects.’
The Bevington Hotel was a relatively small but luxurious establishment in Park Lane. As soon as Peter laid eyes on it, his spirits rose. If he was visiting a large hotel with a multitude of guests moving in and out all the time, the woman he was tracking could have been lost in the crowd. There was no danger of that at the Bevington. When he spoke to the manager, he explained that he was acting on behalf of the bank.
‘We’ve already had someone here on the same errand,’ said the man.
‘Not quite,’ corrected Peter. ‘He was asking if a Mrs Mallory was staying here. My question is somewhat different. I’d like to know if someone currently posing under that name ever stayed as a guest at your hotel.’
‘When would this be, sir?’
‘How good is your memory?’
‘I flatter myself that it’s extremely good.’
The manager was an unusually tall, thin, pale-faced man with an almost patrician air about him. Resenting his condescension, Peter nevertheless needed his help so he forbore to confront the man.
A Date with the Executioner Page 13
