‘I gathered some useful information,’ he explained, ‘but I may have to return to the shop again at some point.’
‘It’s a pity we can’t close the place down altogether. Mrs Mandrake and her kind are nothing but excrescences.’
Yeomans bunched a fist. ‘Don’t you dare call her that, Alfred!’
‘I’ve heard you use the same word of dealers such as her.’
‘Mrs Mandrake is a lady. Treat her with respect.’
‘Only yesterday, you called her a whoremonger.’ Seeing the look in Yeomans’s eye, Hale held up apologetic palms. ‘I’ll never describe her as such again, I promise. You have met the woman – the lady, I should say – whereas we have not.’
‘If you have changed your mind about Mrs Mandrake,’ said Ruddock, ‘does that mean you think more kindly of the murder victim? Must we treat Mr Paige with respect as well?’
‘No,’ barked Yeomans, ‘we must not. I don’t give a trooper’s turd for Paige. I’m very glad that he was killed and I wish the same fate on those like him. But the murder must be solved and it falls to us to solve it.’
‘We’ve not been idle this morning,’ said Hale.
‘How many heads have you knocked together?’
‘More than I can remember, Micah. The first person we tackled again was Mokey Venables. I was much harsher on him than Chevy.’
‘You boxed his ears,’ said Ruddock.
‘It helps to clear the brain. Mokey gave us names of people we’d never heard of before, obnoxious maggots who infest Bloomsbury and know its darkest corners. We paid several of them a visit. One of them was very helpful.’
‘His name is Dirk Poyesdon,’ said Ruddock.
Yeomans glowered. ‘I told you to shut your gob.’
‘Then I’ll let Mr Hale do the talking,’ whispered the other.
‘Who is this Poyesdon?’
‘He works as a doorman at Doll Fortune’s house,’ said Hale, ‘and he’s used to seeing a stream of gentlemen going in and out there every night. Doll’s ladies are not common trulls. They are expensive company.’
‘I’m well aware of that.’
‘Last night, two unlikely visitors rolled up, drunken sailors with an urge to dip their wicks into quality for a change. Poyesdon was minded to turn them away but the bribe they gave him was generous enough to get them through the door. Once inside,’ Hale went on, ‘they paid for the two most exclusive rooms in the house.’
‘Where is this tale leading, Alfred?’ asked Yeomans, impatiently.
‘Hear me out. Poyesdon spoke to the two Cyprians afterwards. They’d each endured rough company. Each man had said the same. It was a day of celebration for them. They’d performed a service for someone and been handsomely rewarded. Instead of patronising the riverside brothels,’ said Hales, ‘they could at last afford the finest bawdy house in Covent Garden.’
‘What possible use is this tittle-tattle?’
‘One of them let slip why he was in such high spirits. He said that he was on fire because he’d enjoyed the rare thrill of actually killing someone.’
‘Men always make the most stupid boasts between the sheets.’
‘He frightened her, Micah, and the woman he’d bought for the night is not easily scared. She took him at his word. He left her covered in bites and bruises. She told Doll Fortune she’d never share a bed with him again at any price.’
Yeomans was suddenly interested. ‘This fellow is coming back?’
‘He vowed that he’d return one day this week. His friend did the same.’
‘How trustworthy is this Poyesdon?’
‘I think we can rely on what he told us.’
‘Then we have the place watched until these two sailors roll up again.’ He rounded on Ruddock. ‘That’s work for you.’
‘I can’t stand outside a brothel all night,’ complained the other. ‘I’m a married man. What will my wife say?’
‘She’ll think you were stupid to tell her in the first place – and so do we.’
‘Micah and I are both married,’ said Hale, ‘and we’ve done more than our share of standing guard outside houses of ill repute.’
‘Then you’re much more experienced,’ urged Ruddock.
‘It’s your turn now, lad. It will be an education for you.’
‘Will I be on my own?’
‘Dirk Poyesdon will be there to point the rogues out.’
Ruddock was anxious. ‘What can I do against two killers?’
Yeomans laughed crudely. ‘I can see that you’ve never been inside a place like that, Ruddock. When they’ve drunk their fill and taken their pleasure, this pair will barely have the strength to stagger off to their lodging. You don’t need to apprehend them at all. You simply follow them and bring us word of their whereabouts. We’ll storm the place in numbers and haul them off in chains.’
‘This is a big chance for you, Chevy,’ said Hale, patting him on the back. ‘Serve us well and you’ll get a feather in your cap. As for your wife, tell her that you’re being paid to stand guard over someone’s valuables. There’s a degree of truth in that. The ladies that Doll employs are like the Crown Jewels to her.’
‘I don’t believe it!’ cried Diane Mandrake, clapping her hands. ‘It’s remarkable. You are like two peas in a pod.’
When he arrived at the gallery, Peter Skillen stood beside his brother and she was unable to tell them apart until she scrutinised them more carefully. There was a contented quality about Peter that spoke of a happily married man. Paul, on the other hand, seemed more lonely and unsettled. With no more ado, she handed the package to Peter and waved away his protests. When he opened it, he saw that he was holding the print that featured Sir Humphrey Coote. Peter burst out laughing and showed it to his brother and to Ackford, pointing out the figure of the Runner in the background. Both men shook with mirth.
‘You obviously recognised Micah Yeomans?’ said Peter.
‘I did so instantly,’ said Ackford.
‘And so did I,’ added Paul. ‘I can see why he wanted to buy this print from the shop. It portrays him as the bloated fool he is.’
‘I couldn’t wait to get him out of my shop,’ said Diane. ‘He thinks that Leo Paige was the artist and I didn’t disillusion him. Why should I? Let him think that Virgo is lying on a slab at the morgue.’
‘Your reminder is timely, Mrs Mandrake,’ said Ackford. ‘I must find a moment to pay my respects to my old friend.’ A bell rang outside. ‘That will be Mr Cordery ready to test my mettle in the boxing ring again.’
After excusing himself, he went out of the office and left her to marvel again at the brothers. Peter offered to pay for the drawing but she refused to take any money. The fact that he and the others had sworn to hunt down Paige’s killer was reward enough to her.
‘Thank you so much for this,’ said Peter. ‘This will be treasured. Thanks, also, for those copies of Paige’s Chronicle. It afforded us endless amusement.’
‘More to the point,’ said Paul, ‘they gave us names to ponder.’
‘I have the list here.’ Peter produced a sheet of paper from inside his coat and showed it Diane. ‘You’ll know these august gentlemen because they’ve all been portrayed in your prints.’ She looked at the five suspects. ‘Well? Which of these men is most likely to engage an assassin?’
‘All five of them, I’d say,’ she replied. ‘Wait, I’d draw the line at Lord Elphinstone. I know that he’s a grasping landlord but he’s also a man of delicate sensibilities. He’d never be party to a murder.’
‘That reduces the number to four, then.’
‘One moment,’ said Paul, ‘there’s something that neither of you know as yet. It may well make you look at those names somewhat differently.’
He told them about Ackford’s conversation with the fishmonger and how the man had been shown the record book that morning. Thanks to Charlotte’s deft skills, Quint had been able to pick out one of the men waiting outside the gallery while Paige was inside
. They now had both a name and a description of him.
‘That’s a wonderful discovery,’ said Diane with delight. ‘All that we have to do is to link this man, Fearon, with one of the people on this list.’
‘That won’t be easy,’ warned Paul. ‘There are over a million people in this city. Trying to find one man among a population like that could take a long time. And don’t forget,’ he continued, ‘that we need to look for Fearon’s accomplice as well, and we have no idea who he is.’
‘What can I do, Mr Skillen?’
‘There’s not much that I can suggest, to be honest.’
‘But I want to be used.’
‘Then there’s something that would be helpful,’ said Peter. ‘You’ve told me a great deal about Mr Paige, I know, but there are probably small details that have been overlooked so far. The more we learn about his life and habits, the better we’ll be able to understand why he was the target of an assassin. His landlord told Paul that only three people ever visited the house,’ he remembered. ‘There was an older woman, a younger one and a tall, straight-backed man with the look of a soldier.’
‘I can identify two of them, Peter. The old lady was the widow of a friend of Leo’s. Whenever she needed money, he gave her a little. He was kind-hearted to a fault. As for the younger woman,’ she said, striking pose, ‘you are looking at her. I may not be in the full flush of youth but, apparently, I seemed so beside the widow.’
‘That leaves the soldier,’ said Paul. ‘Who is he?’
‘The likelihood is that he’s an old comrade of Paige’s,’ said Peter. ‘Did he ever mention this friend to you, Mrs Mandrake?’
‘No,’ she replied. ‘All I can tell you is that Leo only let three of us know where he was living. I’ve accounted for two of us. The third is a mystery.’
Tall, gaunt and upright, the man had a long, urgent stride that belied his age. When he came to a corner, he took the precaution of stopping to look in every direction. Reassured that nobody was watching him, he marched on briskly until he came to the house. There was a disturbing amount of debris on the ground and, when he looked up, he saw that the pane of glass was missing from the bedchamber at the front of the house. He used the knocker to rouse the occupants. Gregory Lomas opened the door. Recognising the visitor, he gave a gesture of despair.
‘Is he at home?’ asked the man.
‘No, sir, and he’s never likely to be here again.’
‘Why not – has he moved his lodging?’
‘He no longer has need of one, sir.’
‘Stop talking in riddles, man.’
‘Mr Paige is dead,’ explained the landlord, ‘and not of natural causes, alas. He was murdered here only yesterday and his room was set alight.’
The newcomer was shocked. ‘Who killed him?’
‘Some villain strangled him to death.’
‘But he was going to employ a bodyguard. He swore that he would.’
‘There was nobody protecting him yesterday, sir.’
‘And you say that there was a fire?’
‘It was a bad one,’ replied the other. ‘If it hadn’t been for my neighbours, the whole place could have burnt to the ground.’ Shoving him aside, the man rushed into the house and up the staircase. ‘You can’t do that, sir. Come back!’
Lomas went after him but he was far too slow to stop him reaching the room and flinging open the door. The visitor stood there in horror. Fire had blackened everything and ash lay everywhere. The place was uninhabitable. When the landlord came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder, the man shrugged him off and rushed across to an old oak chest in the corner. Flinging open the lid, he looked in and saw that it was empty. He spun round to challenge Lomas.
‘How did you let this happen?’
‘We were not at home, sir.’
‘What about the servants?’
‘They’d gone to the market. Mr Paige was alone in here.’
‘There was something in this chest,’ said the man, pointing at it. ‘Did you take it out?’ Lomas shook his head. ‘I want the truth, man. If you try to deceive me in any way, I’ll beat you black and blue.’
‘Don’t hurt me, sir,’ said Lomas, shrinking back. ‘As God’s my witness, I never touched anything of Mr Paige’s. He wanted privacy and that’s what we gave him. I’ve no idea what he kept in that chest because I never once looked in it. Who knows?’ he went on, gibbering. ‘Perhaps the villain who killed him took whatever was hidden in there. What was it?’
‘Never you mind,’ snapped the other. ‘Where’s the body?’
‘They took it away, sir. It was in a terrible state.’
‘Has anyone been here to investigate the crime?’
‘Yes,’ said Lomas, ‘the Runners came yesterday. Before them, a stranger was here, asking all sorts of questions about Mr Paige. He never gave me his name but the Runners seemed to know who he was.’
‘Go on.’
‘They called him Peter Skillen.’
After a last look at the oak chest, the man brushed Lomas aside, clattered down the stairs, left the house and strode purposefully away. As he joined the main street, he was soon swallowed up in the crowd.
Drawn back to the print shop by some ineluctable force, Yeomans walked up and down Middle Row like a nervous suitor. Every time he passed it, he kept looking through Mrs Mandrake’s bay window in the hope that he might catch a glimpse of her. But she never appeared. He was still debating whether to go into the shop or to walk away altogether when Benjamin Tite emerged into the street.
‘Did you want something, Mr Yeomans?’ he asked.
‘No, no, I was on my way back to Bow Street.’
‘If you came to see Mrs Mandrake, you’ll be disappointed. She’s not here.’
‘Oh,’ said Yeomans, head sinking to his chest. It jerked back up again. ‘Then perhaps I could speak to Mr Mandrake.’
‘There’s no such person any longer,’ said Tite, sadly.
The Runner’s hopes stirred. The woman he’d come to admire so fervently had no husband. Palpably, she was free and unencumbered. His long perambulation in Holborn had been more than justified. Yeomans smiled for the first time that day.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Accustomed to living solely with men, Jem Huckvale was disconcerted to be left alone in the house with nobody for company but women. The fact that they were all concerned for his health made it even more uncomfortable. Meg Rooke was the real problem. His affection for her was stronger than ever but it was replaced by diffidence and hesitation whenever she was actually close to him. What irked him most, of course, was that he was trapped in bed when there was a murder to solve and when the person who’d attacked him was still on the loose. Instead of staying as a guest at the home of Peter and Charlotte Skillen, he wanted to be involved in the hunt for the culprits. Such was his eagerness to join the others that he elected to ignore the dull ache in his head and manoeuvred himself slowly out of bed. Unsteady on his feet at first, he soon regained his balance and crossed to the chair over which his clothing had been draped. Huckvale was just about to dress himself when he heard footsteps ascending the stairs. Panic-stricken in case Meg caught him with bare feet exposed, he tried to clamber into bed again.
Instead of the usual timid knock, however, there was a resounding thud before the door swung open. Gully Ackford stepped into the room in time to see his friend pulling the bedclothes protectively up to his chest.
‘You’re in no danger from me, Jem,’ he said, amused. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m bored to death.’
‘What – with a comely girl like Meg at your command?’
‘I want to be with you and the others.’
‘There’s time enough for that.’
‘What’s happened, Gully?’
‘A great deal – some of it is bad and some of it good.’ He perched on the edge of the bed. ‘Let me tell you the worst news first. I’ve just come back from viewing Leo’s body. If I hadn’t been told it wa
s him, I’d never have recognised my old friend. Fire ravages the human body in cruel ways.’
‘When is the inquest?’
‘It will be very soon and very short. There are no witnesses to offer evidence. The verdict is thus obvious. Leo was killed by person or persons unknown. Except,’ he added with a smile, ‘one of them, we believe, is known now.’
Huckvale was excited. ‘You’ve put a name to him?’
‘Strictly, speaking, it was Charlotte who did that. Her record book helped to unmask the rogue. It was someone we once arrested for starting an affray and causing damage to the Hope and Anchor.’
He went on to tell the full story of their discovery. It only served to make Huckvale even more eager to return to the gallery and take part in the investigation. Convinced that Abel Fearon must have been his attacker, he was desperate for a second encounter with the man. On the next occasion, however, he vowed to wreak his revenge on the former sailor. Thrilled by most of what he heard, he was jolted by the news that they had a self-appointed assistant.
‘This is no work for a woman, Gully,’ he said.
‘Mrs Mandrake insists.’
‘What can she possibly do?’
‘To begin with, she can fire a gun. I let her have use of our targets and she hit them every time without any difficulty. Her real value, however, is that she knew Leo very well and is able to tell us a lot about him. When she heard that he was being stalked, it was Mrs Mandrake who badgered him into finding a bodyguard.’
‘Do you mean that this lady sent him to us?’
‘She didn’t exactly recommend the gallery because she’d never heard of it. When he made enquiries, Leo learnt of our reputation and that’s what brought him back into my life.’ Ackford heaved a sigh. ‘It was an all too brief reunion.’
‘I’ve heard enough,’ said Huckvale, throwing back the sheets.
‘Hey, you must stay in bed, Jem.’
‘Not while there’s work to do. That’s the best remedy for me.’
Ackford stood up. ‘Are you sure you feel well enough?’
Steps to the Gallows Page 8
