Rage of the Assassin

by Edward Marston

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.

  ‘He’s on his way to resume the search,’ said Hale, gesturing for Ruddock to get out. ‘He called in to apologise for the mistake he made yesterday. He regrets it now, Micah. Don’t you, Chevy?’

  Ruddock’s resolve weakened. ‘Yes,’ he said, meekly. ‘I do.’

  But he was saying something very different to himself.

  It was a complete change of tack for Harry Scattergood. Having spent his entire life dodging magistrates, he was now sitting in the office of the most senior one of them all. Eldon Kirkwood would accept nothing until he’d interrogated his visitor with his customary thoroughness. Scattergood answered every thorny question to the chief magistrate’s satisfaction. Kirkwood gave an approving nod.

  ‘Is there anything you wish to ask me, Mr Clearwater?’ he said.

  ‘As a matter of fact, there is.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘If I divulge the information I’ve taken such trouble to gather, can you confirm that I will get the credit for the arrest of the man?’

  ‘You have my word.’

  ‘May I also have your guarantee that I will be able to claim the reward and that you won’t allow any of your Runners to try to take it from me?’

  ‘I give you my guarantee readily.’

  ‘Then it’s time to proceed,’ said Scattergood. ‘The man who shot dead Sir Roger Mellanby is named Charles Mifflin. He doesn’t live in London but comes here regularly and always stays at the same hotel.’

  ‘Do you know which one it is?’

  ‘I do, sir. Naturally, I’ll make the arrest myself with your men in support. It will need a group of us – perhaps ten or more – to surround the hotel once we know that he’s inside. Can you recommend Runners who are well versed in such operations?’

  ‘The best men at my disposal are Yeomans and Hale.’

  Scattergood pulled a face. ‘I’d sooner anyone than them,’ he protested. ‘When I first approached the pair with my evidence, they refused to believe that it had any significance. That’s why I came to you instead. I knew that your judgement would be less affected by the desire for personal gain. Yeomans and Hale want the glory of capturing this man without taking the trouble of hunting and unmasking him.’

  ‘You’ve done that in exemplary fashion, Mr Clearwater.’

  ‘I want Sir Roger’s death avenged.’

  ‘So do we all,’ said Kirkwood, ‘but I can’t have you dictating how I should deploy my men. If I choose Yeomans and Hale, you must respect my decision.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Scattergood, ruefully.

  ‘They are experienced officers and – if violence is involved – you couldn’t have two better men at your side.’

  ‘Then I withdraw my objection, sir.’

  ‘Good – when will the operation begin?’

  ‘I’ll have to wait until Mr Mifflin returns to his hotel,’ said Scattergood. ‘Once he’s safely inside, I’ll send word and we can surround the building. Led by me,’ he emphasised, ‘we’ll enter the hotel to make the arrest.’

  Kirkwood rose to his feet. ‘I’ll be the first to congratulate you.’

  Peter and Paul arrived at the shooting gallery at more or less the same time. Charlotte was delighted to see them back and listened to what they had to say. She was astonished to hear that Peter had called on Edmund Mellanby at his hotel.

  ‘You surely don’t consider him as a suspect, do you?’ she said.

  ‘As the son of a murder victim,’ replied Peter, ‘he’s behaving in a strange way. I wondered why.’

  ‘What sort of reception did you get?’

  ‘It was frosty. Anyway, after I’d left him, I decided to have a look at Mr Ferriday for myself.’

  ‘I’ll warrant that he slammed the door in your face,’ said Paul.

  Peter laughed. ‘By the time I left, he wished that he had.’

  He gave them an account of the conversation he’d had with the politician and said that Ferriday’s name should certainly remain amongst their suspects. It was Paul’s turn to talk about his visits to Dr Quine and Captain Golightly, respectively.

  ‘I met the doctor as a total stranger,’ he explained, ‘but left as a friend. He was as interested in our work as I was in his. Quine will be a useful man in any future murder investigations, Peter. He’s a genuine find.’

  ‘What did you do after you’d seen Captain Golightly?’ asked Charlotte.

  ‘I went back to Covent Garden,’ said Paul. ‘I walked down that alleyway where Orsino Price was stabbed to death. After that, I went around to the stage door where Sir Roger met his death. It was rather eerie being back there. In less than a minute, a man was shot dead, the Prince Regent was rushed to safety inside the theatre and everyone else ran for their life. After that experience, escorting Hannah out of the stage door will feel rather dull.’

  ‘What was eerie about going back there?’ said Peter.

  ‘I saw two men there, shuffling about for some reason. One was giving the other one some orders. They stopped when they saw me and rushed away. The weird thing was that I knew one of them but couldn’t remember who he was. It was maddening. I’ve been trying to place him ever since.’

  ‘Do you think he recognised you, Paul?’

  ‘Oh, I’m certain of it.’

  ‘Then it might have been someone you arrested.’

  ‘I have a good memory for faces, Peter, but I failed this time.’

  ‘The theatre is dark at the moment,’ observed Charlotte, ‘so what were they doing there? Hannah wasn’t going to come out of the stage door and neither was anybody else.’

  ‘You should have challenged them, Paul,’ said his brother.

  ‘I didn’t get the chance. The moment he saw me, the man who’d been giving the orders dragged his friend away. I was left wondering,’ said Paul, brow corrugated, ‘who the devil was he?’

  The distance between Brighton and London was less than fifty miles, as the crow flies, but the messenger dispatched by the Prince Regent was riding a horse that didn’t have the benefit of wings. Nevertheless, he pressed on hard and, by changing his mount at intervals, he made good time. He reached his destination and tethered his horse at the gate. He then took out his letter and walked up to the front door. Hearing the doorbell, a maidservant opened the door to see the man standing there.

  ‘I have a message for Miss Granville,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll be happy to give it to her,’ she said, extending her hand.

  ‘My orders are to deliver it in person. I’ve travelled here from Brighton.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ she said, flustered. ‘In that case, I’ll fetch her.’ She hurried off to the drawing room and knocked before entering. Hannah looked up from the book she was reading.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘There’s someone here with an important message for you.’

  ‘How do you know it’s important?’

  ‘He’s ridden all the way from Brighton.’

  Hannah was shaken but recovered her composure very quickly and went to the front door to find the man standing there. He handed her the letter.

  ‘This is from His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent.’

  ‘Thank you very much,’ she said. ‘I’ll read it in due course.’

  He was insistent. ‘I’m to wait for an answer, Miss Granville.’

  It was Hannah’s turn to be flustered.

  Despite boasting about the way that he’d won the confidence of the chief magistrate, Harry Scattergood was also ready to chide himself.

  ‘It was a mistake to go back to the theatre in daylight,’ he admitted.

  ‘We needed to go through it all one more time, Harry.’

  ‘Yes, but we should have done it after dark. Nobody would have seen us then, especially Paul Skillen.’

  ‘How do you know it was him?’ asked Kinnaird. ‘You told me that he has a twin brother who looks identical.’

  ‘Paul is the one with a good reason to visit th
e Covent Garden Theatre,’ said Scattergood. ‘In fact, it’s the best reason possible. He is Hannah Granville’s beau. That makes him the envy of every red-blooded man in London.’

  ‘But he didn’t recognise you, did he?’

  ‘We didn’t stay long enough for him to take a good look at me.’

  ‘He still wouldn’t realise that it’s you. Didn’t you say that he looked you full in the face the night you mingled with the others outside the stage door?’

  ‘The light was poor on that occasion. That would have helped.’

  The two friends were in the hotel they’d chosen as the place where Charles Mifflin was going to be apprehended. Situated near Piccadilly, it was the kind of establishment where a wealthy visitor might be expected to stay during his time in the capital.

  ‘You’ve no need to worry,’ said Kinnaird, eyeing him up and down. ‘Even I didn’t recognise you when you chose to go up in the world. Besides, when you were caught by the Skillen brothers, you looked completely different. Paul Skillen could peer at you a hundred times and still not know who you were.’

  ‘You underestimate him, Alan.’

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘He only caught a glimpse of me this time but it was enough to make him stare. If we hadn’t bolted, he’d soon have worked out who I was. I’ll take no more chances,’ said Scattergood. ‘I’ve fooled him twice. Paul Skillen is not going to let me do it a third time.’

  Charlotte Skillen was not merely employed to handle the bookings at the shooting gallery. Ever since they’d offered their services as detectives, she had become their archivist, keeping details of every case in which they were involved. She was also a talented artist. Whenever she attended trials of those arrested by Peter and Paul, she drew sketches of the miscreants in the dock. Her record books therefore had the advantage of being illustrated. As a result, her brother-in-law was eager to leaf through her archives in a bid to identify the person he’d seen outside the theatre in Covent Garden.

  ‘Was it Ned Greet?’ asked Peter.

  ‘He’s still in prison,’ replied his brother.

  ‘What about Humphrey Iliffe?’

  ‘He was too short. This man was tall, lean and almost debonair.’

  ‘You’ve just described yourself, Paul.’

  Peter and Charlotte laughed. Seated beside Paul, she watched as he turned the pages over, marvelling at how many villains they’d caught and seen convicted. When she kept apologising for the defects in her sketches, Paul assured her that her portraits had caught the essence of each individual. As a new face appeared before him, he suddenly shouted in triumph.

  ‘That’s him!’

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Charlotte.

  ‘No wonder I couldn’t remember him at first. Harry Scattergood has changed so much. But he was definitely one of the men I saw in Covent Garden today.’

  ‘But you told us that they were both well dressed,’ said Peter, ‘and that was hardly typical of Harry. The last time we arrested him, it was in a brothel. He used to rub shoulders with low company.’

  ‘It was him, Peter. I swear it.’

  ‘Then why was he skulking around the theatre? The only reason Harry would go to see a play would be to pick the pockets of anyone foolish enough to get close to him. As a rule, your eyesight is remarkable, but not this time, Paul.’

  ‘I’d stake anything on it. Because I’m used to seeing him in seedy pubs and squalid leaping houses, that face of his never really registered with me. But it has now. Harry Scattergood has decided to rise in society.’

  ‘From what I recall,’ said Charlotte, ‘he was an exceptionally good thief.’

  ‘He was,’ agreed Peter. ‘Those light fingers of his made him rich. The only time we managed to get him in court, he escaped custody.’

  ‘How did he do that?’

  ‘We still haven’t worked it out. He’s very clever.’

  Paul’s mind was whirring. He knew that Scattergood wouldn’t do anything unless there was a prospect of gain in it. When he’d seen the two men outside the stage door of the theatre, they had been moving around to alter their positions. Had Paul stumbled upon some kind of rehearsal? If so, why did it take place in a deserted spot like that? More to the point, who was his companion? Since he was a friend of Scattergood’s, he had to be a criminal associate. Unfortunately, Paul didn’t have such a good look at the other man so there was no point in hunting for him in their archive. He was still puzzling over what had been going outside the theatre when there was a knock on the outer door.

  ‘I’ll go,’ said Peter, leaving the room.

  Unlocking the door, he opened it wide then stepped back in amazement. Standing outside with a valise in his hand was a man he never expected to see again. It was the Reverend David Mellanby.

  Alfred Hale was having second thoughts about what Ruddock had told him. As they waited in Bow Street Magistrates’ Court for the summons from Giles Clearwater, he dared to think that they might be making a mistake. Alone with Micah Yeomans, he took time to pluck up enough courage to raise a possibility.

  ‘I’ve been thinking, Micah,’ he said.

  ‘That’s a nasty habit – warps the mind.’

  ‘Chevy is an intelligent man. To be honest, I sometimes think that he may be more intelligent than us. I believe we should take him seriously.’

  ‘Ruddock is still a raw beginner in my book.’

  ‘That’s unfair. Look at the things he’s done for us. He got a letter of commendation from Kirkwood for the way he acted when there was an attempt to rescue a prisoner from a cell here.’ He sucked his teeth noisily. ‘That’s more than we ever got from him.’

  ‘I know,’ said Yeomans with vehemence, ‘and it’s just not right.’

  ‘Mr Kirkwood sees something in Chevy that we don’t.’

  ‘There’s nothing there to see. Ruddock is strong, willing and follows his orders. That’s all that can be said in his favour. On the debit side, he’s slow, clumsy, easily gulled by villains and prone to have wild ideas.’

  ‘His ideas are not all wild, Micah.’

  ‘What are you trying to say?’

  ‘Supposing that he’s right about Giles Clearwater?’

  ‘He’s not.’

  ‘But supposing that—’

  ‘Stop right there,’ ordered Yeomans, getting up to threaten him. ‘Don’t let that poisonous idea enter your brain. If you think that Ruddock is right, you’re saying that you, me and the chief magistrate are hopelessly wrong. Between us we’ve racked up over ninety years of dedication to law enforcement. Compare that to Ruddock’s experience. What is it – one, two, three years at most? As an officer, he’s still wet behind the ears.’

  ‘It’s just that he’s so … well, convinced.’

  ‘I’m even more convinced, Alfred. What we’re dealing with here is a simple coincidence. There’s more than one Giles Clearwater. If you went through the last census, you’d probably find that there are lots of them. There are certainly more people called Micah Yeomans in a city as big as this and you could probably form a cricket team out of all the Alfred Hales at large.’ He put his face close to that of his friend. ‘Does that answer your question?’

  ‘Yes, it does.’

  ‘And do you promise not to mention Chevy Ruddock again?’

  ‘I do, Micah – on my word of honour.’

  When Peter invited their visitor in, David was astonished to meet Paul. He looked from one brother to the other, wondering how they could be told apart. He was introduced to Charlotte and, from the look he gave her, clearly wondered what someone like her was doing in a shooting gallery. She read his mind.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said. ‘The answer is that I like it here. It means that I can work alongside my husband and my brother-in-law, sharing in the excitement of each new case we take on.’

  ‘You’re a brave woman,’ said David.

  ‘I’m sure that you and Peter have a lot to discuss,’ said Paul, moving to the door, �
�so we’ll leave you alone for a while.’

  ‘Please stay. I’d appreciate it. You were actually there when my father was shot dead. I’d like to hear exactly what happened.’

  ‘Then I’ll be happy to oblige you.’

  ‘I, meanwhile,’ said Charlotte, ‘will leave you alone. Please excuse me.’

  She let herself silently out of the room. Peter looked at their visitor.

  ‘What brought you all the way from Nottingham?’ he asked. ‘We’d like to think that our fame is spreading, but we don’t flatter ourselves that anyone outside London knows who we are.’

  ‘I know,’ said David, ‘and so does Seth Hooper. It was talking to him that made me decide to come here. He sends his regards, by the way.’

  ‘That’s good to hear. Please give him mine in return.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘I’d have thought the first person you’d wish to see would be your brother.’

  ‘Edmund can wait.’

  ‘I had a rather prickly conversation with him at his hotel,’ said Peter. ‘He took exception to one of the questions I put to him.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘I asked him when he’d start mourning your father. He certainly hasn’t done so yet. It’s almost as if he has no capacity for grief. Incidentally, he treats Mr Oxley with unconscionable rudeness. The latter was abruptly excluded from our conversation. He was deeply offended. Sir Roger clearly treated him differently.’

  ‘My father befriended people. Edmund uses them then casts them aside.’

  ‘That was my impression,’ said Peter, ‘but you mentioned news from Seth Hooper. What is it?’

  ‘As you know, my father was due to present a petition to the Prince Regent. The Hampden Club has selected someone else to do it.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘You are looking at him, Mr Skillen,’ said David, modestly. ‘I’m not a member of the club, of course, but it’s the least I can do in memory of my father. If Hooper and the others organise a march to London, they’ll be arrested before they get anywhere near it. I, however, have the power of the church to guard me,’ he went on, indicating his bands. ‘There’s another advantage I can boast. Hampden Clubs have been spied on regularly. Somehow I don’t think the Home Secretary’s agents have been keeping me under surveillance.’