Paul laughed. ‘You love every moment of their attentions, Hannah. Indeed, you float upon it like a bird on the wing. Adoration is your natural habitat.’
‘Then why do you not lavish it upon me?’
‘I will do so when I return.’
‘From where?’ she snapped, petulantly. ‘Or should it be from whom?’ Her voice became a growl. ‘I’ll not take second place to another woman.’
‘None could hold a candle to you,’ he said, caressing her thigh as he sat on the bed. ‘All women are invisible beside you. It was the first thing I noticed at the theatre. You were the unrivalled cynosure. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.’
‘Yet you will happily do so this evening.’
‘I do it with the utmost reluctance, my darling. And once my business has been discharged, I will get here as soon as is humanly possible.’
‘How do you know I will let you in?’
‘Keep me outside and I’ll howl like a dog all night. Is that what you would prefer?’ he teased, nestling against her. ‘Would you rather have me out there in the dark or in here beside you?’
She allowed him to kiss her hand. ‘I’ll think about it.’
They were in the house that had been rented for her during the period when she was engaged to perform at the theatre. Hannah Granville had conquered London. Audiences had been overwhelmed by her beauty and by the irresistible talent that accompanied it. Those who’d seen her shine as Belvidera realised that any of the great female roles were within her scope. She was seen as having taken up the mantle that Sarah Siddons had put aside a few years earlier and was expected to enjoy an equally illustrious career. Paul Skillen was no mean actor himself and he’d employed his talents judiciously. Having contrived an introduction to her, he’d used his charm to secure Hannah’s interest, his declaration of love to bring her within reach and his patent virility to excite her. There was also a sense of danger about him that none of her other admirers could offer.
‘Where are you going this evening?’ she demanded.
‘I told you – I have duties to perform.’
‘What kind of duties?’
He waved a hand. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘It does to me, Paul. I want to know where you’re going and who you are intending to see in place of me.’
‘It’s not in place of you, Hannah. Work, however, must come before pleasure.’
‘What sort of work?’
‘We have to protect a property in Mayfair.’
‘We?’ she echoed, sitting up. ‘Who is this “we” you talk about?’
‘I was referring to my brother and myself.’
‘You never told me that you had a brother.’
‘Well, I do,’ he said. ‘His name is Peter.’
‘Am I to meet him?’
‘There’s no need for that.’
‘Why not – are you ashamed of me? Are you afraid that your brother will look askance at me?’
He grinned. ‘No man would ever look askance at you, Hannah.’
‘What sort of a person is Peter?’
‘He’s very similar to me in some ways and the complete opposite in others. On balance, I’m not at all sure that you’d like my brother.’
‘Is he handsome?’
‘Peter’s as handsome as me, certainly.’
‘Is he tall, manly and courteous?’
‘He’s all of those things, my love.’
‘Then I should meet him. He sounds like a paragon of virtue.’
‘That’s his weakness,’ said Paul with a smile. ‘He’s brimming with virtue. It glows inside him. He’d never meet your requirements, my darling. For a lady like you, he has one glaring defect.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘He’s irrecoverably married.’
Charlotte Skillen had seen her husband leave on a number of perilous assignments and, even though he’d always returned safely, she’d never learnt to control her fears. In the course of his work, he’d picked up a succession of cuts, gashes, bruises, grazes, sprains, dislocations and black eyes, as well as a few more serious wounds. Charlotte worried that he and his brother took unnecessary risks. Sooner or later, she felt, one or both of them would be killed. As she saw him off, she put her arms around him.
‘You will be careful this evening, won’t you?’ she implored.
‘I’m always careful.’
‘That’s not true, Peter. You have a rash streak in you sometimes.’
He laughed. ‘I think you’re confusing me with Paul.’
‘I’m the one person who’d never make that mistake.’
‘Take that worried look off your face,’ he said, pulling her close. ‘We’ll be in no jeopardy this time. I won’t even need to go armed.’
‘All I want is for my husband to come home to me in one piece.’
‘I can guarantee it.’ He planted a kiss on her lips before detaching himself from the embrace. ‘To be quite frank, what happens this evening concerns me far less than the inquiry in which I’m also engaged. It’s very puzzling. A woman who is content to do all the drudgery at the Home Office unaccountably disappears. Where on earth can she be?’
‘There’s one obvious explanation, Peter.’
‘I’ve discounted that one.’
‘Well, I haven’t,’ she said, seriously. ‘Mrs Horner does much of her work at night then has to walk home unattended. London is full of hazards during the day. You, of all people, know how much worse it is after dark. Trouble lurks at every corner. Evidently, the poor woman has fallen prey to a footpad or been assaulted by some drunkard. I’d wager money on it.’
‘Then you must brace yourself to lose it, my sweet.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Mrs Horner has been doing this job for years,’ he pointed out. ‘That means she’s well acquainted with the dangers that abound at night. She knows them and has obviously learnt to avoid them. Her landlady told me that she was no shrinking violet. Anyone who tried to harass her would get a raw reception.’
‘What can a woman do when face-to-face with a desperate villain?’
‘She can do what you did, Charlotte – and marry him.’
She burst into laughter then followed him into the hall. When she had been wooed simultaneously by both brothers, it had been a strange and heady experience for a young woman. Yet it did not take her long to make her choice. Paul Skillen was exhilarating company but it was Peter who had the qualities and attitudes she sought in a husband. Charlotte had never regretted the decision she’d made.
‘I’m looking forward to meeting the mysterious Mrs Horner,’ he said.
‘Instinct tells me that she’s already dead.’
‘Then why has her body not been found?’
‘Perhaps she was killed beside the river then thrown into it.’
‘Corpses never stay beneath the water indefinitely. If she were hurled into the Thames, she’d have bobbed back up to the surface by now. No, she’s very much alive and I fancy that her disappearance is linked in some way to that money I discovered at her lodging. How could a woman of slender means come by such an amount?’
‘She might have inherited it.’
‘From whom?’ he asked. ‘According to her sister, she had no wealthy relatives and her husband was in debt when he died.’
‘Then I have no idea how she acquired that little treasure trove,’ she admitted. ‘What about you, Peter?’
‘Oh, I can envisage three ways in which the money made its way to that box under the bed. The problem is that none of them reflects well on the character of Anne Horner.’ He heard the clock strike the hour. ‘I must away, my love.’ He kissed her before moving towards the front door. ‘Other business calls me now. The missing woman will have to take her turn in the queue.’
For a big man, Micah Yeomans had an amazing ability to shrink into insignificance in the dark. He could somehow melt into a doorway or ooze behind a pillar. The only way that Alfred Hale could detect his wher
eabouts was by looking for the faint glow of his pipe. When he reached the Runner, he was given a grunt of welcome.
‘Well?’
‘They’re both inside, Micah.’
‘Are you certain it was Peter and Paul?’
‘Yes,’ said Hale, ‘but don’t ask me which is which. They’re like two peas in a pod. All I know is that Paul is the worse of the pair.’
‘Peter’s the more cunning. He does the thinking for them.’
‘It’s a pity we haven’t got Gully Ackford in there as well.’
‘Don’t worry – he’ll be hauled before the magistrate to speak his piece.’ After drawing on his pipe for the last time, he tapped out the ash on the bottom of his boot. ‘We’ve set this up well, Alfred. They’ll think they’re alone in the house when, all the time, Simon Medlow is tucked away up in the attic. He’ll give the signal for us to move in and arrest them.’ He spat into the road. ‘Is everyone ready?’
‘I’ve put men at either end of the street and others have been stationed in the adjoining streets. Quite honestly, Micah, we’ve got far too many people. When all is said and done,’ said Hale, ‘there are only two Skillens.’
‘Yes, but they’re like bars of soap. Just when you think you’ve caught one of them, he slips out of your fingers.’
‘Who will actually make the arrest?’
Yeomans inflated his chest. ‘I will. The snare is all my doing. I want to see them straining to escape from it.’
‘What if they suspect a trap?’
‘If that were the case, they wouldn’t have gone so readily into Mr Hobday’s house. Have no fear, Alfred. They take their orders from Ackford and he was well and truly gulled by Medlow. So were a lot of other people, mind you,’ he added with a chuckle. ‘Did you know that Medlow once persuaded a wealthy simpleton to buy the River Thames?’ Hale cackled. ‘Then there was the time when he sold tickets to a banquet in Brighton Pavilion hosted by His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent. Those stupid enough to buy them – and there were more than a few – had a nasty shock when they turned up. Simon Medlow is a silver-tongued wizard. He cast his spell on Ackford.’
‘He’s a brave man to stay alone in the house with the two brothers.’
‘He’s perfectly safe,’ said Yeomans. ‘We know he’s there but they don’t.’
‘It’s just as well.’
There was a long wait ahead of them. While Yeomans refilled and lit his pipe, Hale slipped off into a corner to urinate against a wall. He then walked around the entire area and checked that the men they’d recruited from the foot patrol were in position. Many of them were restive, wondering how long they’d have to hang about in the dark. When he suggested that they took their complaints directly to Yeomans, however, they fell silent. Nobody had the courage to tackle him.
A couple of hours drifted past before the lights in the windows of Hobday’s house were snuffed out. The brothers had clearly retired to bed. It was only a matter of time before a candle would appear in the attic window to confirm that Peter and Paul Skillen were asleep. Yeomans and Hale moved in and those at either end of Upper Brook Street instinctively did the same. The net tightened inexorably.
The delay, however, was longer than they’d anticipated.
‘Why doesn’t Medlow give the signal?’ asked Yeomans, impatiently.
‘Perhaps he’s trying to sell them tickets to a banquet in Brighton Pavilion,’ said Hale, collecting a contemptuous glare that made him apologise at once. ‘I’m sorry, Micah.’
‘Shut up!’
‘It was only a joke.’
‘Can you hear me laughing?’
‘I’m just trying to kill time,’ bleated Hale.
He gasped in pain as he was elbowed in the ribs. Yeomans was watching the attic window without blinking an eyelid. When the light finally appeared, he led the charge towards the house. Using a key to open the door, he went furtively inside with Hale at his heels. A cluster of men guarded the exit. Yeomans lifted the shutter on his lantern and created a pool of light. It enabled him and his companion to search the whole of the ground floor. Confident that their quarry were slumbering upstairs, they ascended the steps as quietly as they could and went from bedroom to bedroom, opening each door wide in the hope of finding the two brothers.
But there wasn’t the slightest hint that they’d even been inside the property. Something had gone wrong and Yeomans was quick to apportion blame. He rounded on Hale and hissed a demand at him.
‘Are you sure they were here, Alfred?’
‘I’d swear it on the Good Book.’
‘Did you recognise the two of them?’
‘Yes, Micah – they were as large as life and no more than twenty yards away.’
‘That’s too far in the dark.’
‘I know their gait as well as my own. Peter is bolt upright when he marches along. Paul is more leisurely and has a shorter stride.’ He removed his hat to scratch his head. ‘Or maybe it’s the other way round.’
‘Be quiet.’
‘It was them, Micah. I’m certain of it.’
‘Hold your tongue, man,’ said Yeomans, grabbing him by the throat. ‘Just listen, will you?’
‘What am I supposed to hear?’ croaked Hale.
‘Listen!’
Cocking their heads, they strained their ears. The noise was faint but insistent. It was a regular knocking sound and they soon guessed that it came from above. Charging out of the bedroom, they rushed along a corridor to the staircase that led to the attic. With Hale in his wake, Yeomans thundered up it with the lantern held high. When he turned the knob, he pushed the door wide open and shuddered at the sight that greeted them. Simon Medlow had been stripped naked then bound and gagged before being strung up naked by his feet to a thick beam. By swinging to and fro, he’d been able to hit a table with his head and summon help.
‘Where in the world are they?’ yelled Yeomans, puce with rage.
‘They won’t get far, Micah,’ said Hale. ‘We’ve got the place surrounded.’
But another fifty men would not have been enough to catch Peter and Paul Skillen. Having escaped over the roofs of the adjacent houses, they’d already climbed down to the ground and were calmly making their way back to those awaiting them.
Fortune favoured the sailors. Though much smaller than the vessels to which they were accustomed, it was well built and scudded through the waves. A stiff breeze helped them to maintain good speed, so they were able to watch the shore move steadily past them. Moses Dagg was concerned.
‘You said we’d complain to the Prime Minister, didn’t you?’
‘That’s right.’
‘We don’t even know his name.’
‘I do,’ said Tom O’Gara. ‘I asked one of the soldiers. It’s Lord Liverpool.’
‘Why should a lord bother with a couple of escaped prisoners?’
‘We haven’t really escaped, Moses. As soon as the peace treaty was signed, it was our right to be released. They shouldn’t have kept us in Dartmoor. It’s a point we’ll make when we write to Lord Liverpool.’
‘I think we’ll just be pissing in the wind.’
‘Well, we’ve done enough of that in our time,’ said O’Gara with a laugh. ‘Trust me. The British have got their faults – and lots of them – but they believe in justice. That’s all we’re asking for. We may be free but all of our friends are still there, being punished by Captain Shortland and his men. The governor is cruel. He enjoys throwing prisoners in the Black Hole. I should know – I was one of them.’
‘Jake Hendrick was another. He went mad when they locked him away in the dark for a couple of weeks. When they let him out, he was still screaming.’
‘I walked out of there with a smile on my face,’ boasted O’Gara. ‘I wasn’t going to let the governor think he’d hurt me.’
Having sailed throughout the first night, they’d kept going until they came in sight of the Isle of Wight. Since they hadn’t eaten for over twenty-four hours, they looked for some
where to land. A deserted cove allowed them to slip unseen ashore and to haul their craft onto the beach. They then climbed a rock face and took their bearings. There was a farmstead in the distance. After waiting until light began to fade, they approached stealthily and watched until their chance came. While O’Gara stole food from the kitchen with practised deftness, Dagg grabbed a bucket of water that stood beside the pump. They went hundreds of yards before they dared to fill their bellies and slake their thirst. Keeping some of the stolen rations, they made their way back to the boat and set sail once more.
Fate was less kind to them on their second night. Without warning, the wind dropped so they were forced to float for much of the time. More worryingly, dark clouds obscured the moon and stars so that they had no idea where they were or in what direction they were moving. When the wind suddenly freshened, it brought driving rain at its back and the two combined to create a storm of gathering ferocity. During their years in the navy, O’Gara and Dagg had weathered many a tempest but only in a frigate with a trained crew to battle the elements. This was a much more threatening experience altogether. Buffeted by the wind, lashed by the rain and tossed helplessly up and down by the heavy swell, they were effectively sailing blind. Neither man had the slightest idea that another vessel was bearing down on them in the inky darkness. One moment, the sailors were bravely coping with their multiple problems; the next, they were struck by something large and powerful enough to smash their boat in two.
Flung into the sea, O’Gara and Dagg were soon swimming for their lives.
They gathered at the shooting gallery to discuss the events of the previous night. When Peter Skillen explained what had happened, Gully Ackford and Jem Huckvale shook with mirth as they envisaged Medlow dangling from a beam. Charlotte, however, was less amused by the account of her husband’s nocturnal exploits. She had already heard one version of it and repetition did not impress her any the more.
‘You’re courting danger if you take on the Bow Street Runners.’
Shadow of the Hangman Page 5
