Surprised by David’s passion, his brother looked embarrassed.
While she was waiting, Kitty Denley paced up and down the drawing room, pausing from time to time to stare through the window at the street outside. The servant who’d delivered her letter to the shooting gallery assured her that it had been put into a safe pair of hands. Yet there was still no sign of Paul Skillen. What could possibly be delaying him? Didn’t he realise that her plea was desperate? After more walking to and fro, Kitty had worked herself up into a state of high anxiety. It was then that she heard the approach of a horse. Rushing once more to the window, she saw the rider dismount and hand the reins to the servant who came out to greet him. Kitty ran to the front door and opened it.
‘Thank goodness you’ve come, Mr Skillen!’ she said, beckoning him in. ‘I was afraid that you’d let me down.’
‘I’d never knowingly do that, Mrs Denley,’ said Peter.
He was led along a passageway and into the drawing room. Kitty closed the door firmly behind them. When she tried to speak, her visitor motioned her into silence.
‘Let me begin with an apology,’ he said. ‘I know that you summoned Paul Skillen but he is not available today. I’ve come here in his stead.’
She was startled. ‘But you are Mr Skillen.’
‘Indeed, I am, Mrs Denley, but my name is Peter Skillen. I’m Paul’s twin brother. Since your letter was addressed to “Mr Skillen”, I opened it in error and, realising that there was no possibility that Paul could come here, I took the liberty of doing so myself.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Kitty, uneasily.
‘My brother and I have been retained to solve this murder, so we have pooled all the information we’ve gathered in relation to it. I am therefore fully cognisant of the meetings you’ve had with Paul. You’ve been very helpful to him.’
‘I tried to be, Mr Skillen.’
‘Why were you so desperate to speak to him?’
‘There’s been a … development,’ she said, ‘and it has left me deeply upset.’
‘Why don’t you sit down and tell me all about it?’
She took his advice. After waiting for her to sit on the sofa, Peter settled into a chair nearby. He saw how accurate Paul’s description of the woman had been and could easily understand why she’d attracted Sir Roger Mellanby. As Peter was appraising her, Kitty was in turn looking closely at him, trying to decide if he was trustworthy. At length, she spoke softly and rapidly.
‘Earlier today, my husband called on me. Though I had no wish to speak to him, I didn’t feel that I could turn him away. He’d come to accuse me of setting you and your brother on to him, whereas I had nothing to do with it. Well, I’d never even met you so how could I have urged you to question him?’
‘Was that the only reason that he called here?’
‘No, it wasn’t. He told me that he missed me.’
‘That’s understandable, Mrs Denley.’
‘He even dared to suggest that I might move back in with him,’ she said, ‘but that’s impossible. In fact, I’m planning to live in Dorset.’
‘That wouldn’t have pleased him.’
‘It shocked and angered him, Mr Skillen. But that discussion came later. As your brother will have told you, I left the family home because I was wrongly accused of welcoming Sir Roger’s advances. In point of fact,’ she stressed, ‘he never made any advances and, if he had, I would have ended our acquaintance on the spot.’
‘I see.’
She took a few moments to compose herself, then held his gaze.
‘Are you married, Mr Skillen?’
‘Yes, I’m very happily married.’
‘I enjoyed that same state of bliss years ago,’ she recalled, ‘but it soon began to fade. We didn’t so much as drift apart as let the wine trade come between us. Suffice it to say that I came to see how little we really had in common. However, married couples generally learn to read each other’s behaviour.’
‘My wife certainly does that to me,’ he said, fondly.
‘One sometimes knows exactly what a marital partner is thinking even if he or she is saying something quite different. That’s what happened with Hugh. When the news of Sir Roger’s death first became known, my immediate response was to fear that my husband had been involved.’
‘And what did you decide?’
‘I felt that I had to challenge him on the subject,’ she said. ‘When he called here earlier on, I did just that. Hugh couldn’t bring himself to say anything in praise of Sir Roger, of course, but he showed no sign of pleasure or satisfaction in what had occurred. It was as if he wanted to escape any discussion of it.’
‘What happened?’
‘I sensed that he hadn’t really come to accuse me of setting you and your brother on to him. He was unusually secretive. I could hear it in his voice and see it in his mannerisms. Hugh was concealing his feelings. So I accused him directly, Mr Skillen,’ she said. ‘I looked him straight in the eye and asked him if he had any connection whatsoever with the murder of Sir Roger.’
‘What was his answer?’
‘He didn’t reply. But his face gave him away.’
‘Do you think that he was in some way involved?’
‘I’ve been brooding on it for hours, Mr Skillen, and I came to the conclusion that he was. That’s why I dashed off that letter. It shook me,’ she said, seriously. ‘It shook me to the core. Without realising it, I had been living all that time with a man who is capable of stooping to murder.’
Paul Skillen was so certain that Harry Scattergood was somehow involved in the death of Sir Roger Mellanby that he went back to the place in Covent Garden where the murder had occurred. What had Scattergood been doing there and who was his companion? If they had nothing to hide, why had the two of them rushed off? As he went through the possibilities in his head, Paul wondered if he might get help from someone nearby. He walked quickly to the Golden Crown and went in.
Simeon Howlett was in his allotted seat but appeared to be fast asleep. Paul immediately bought the old man his favourite drink and set it down on the table in front of him. Howlett’s eyelids fluttered like the wings of a caged bird.
‘How wonderful!’ he cried. ‘I was just dreaming about a glass of wine and one has miraculously appeared.’ After a first sip, he looked up at Paul. ‘Thank you, kind sir. Have you come to talk about Orsino Price again?’
‘No, it’s another name that interests me now.’
‘What is it?’
‘Harry Scattergood.’
Howlett sniffed. ‘I’ve never heard of him. Is he an actor?’
‘He’s a thief but that often obliges him to take on a false name in order to lead his victims astray. In that sense, he is a kind of actor.’
‘Why do you seek him?’
‘He might have been involved in a recent murder.’
‘You’re not talking about Sir Roger Mellanby, by any chance?’
‘Indeed, I am.’
‘Then you should have been here when Mr Ruddock called in.’
‘Would that be Chevy Ruddock,’ asked Paul, interest immediately kindled. ‘He’s a tall, gangly man with a face like a large potato.’
‘That’s him.’
‘He works with the Runners.’
‘Actually,’ confided Howlett, ‘he’s working against them at the moment. He and I went to a great deal of trouble to obtain some information and it was rejected.’
‘What sort of information?’
‘It concerns Mr Giles Clearwater.’
‘Tell me more,’ urged Paul, sitting beside him. ‘I’ve heard mention of the man. Who exactly is he?’
‘He’s a character in The Provok’d Husband, a dreadful play that tried to ape Sir John Vanbrugh’s sublime comedy, The Provok’d Wife. The latter is solid gold while the former is base metal.’
‘Let me get this correct. Ruddock asked you about someone called Giles Clearwater and you remembered that he belonged in a play. What happened when you
told that to Chevy Ruddock?’
‘He was overjoyed at first.’
‘And then?’
‘The Runners slapped him down. It’s unfair on him. They still believe that Clearwater is a real person. In fact, he wants to claim the reward for telling them where Sir Roger’s killer is. It doesn’t make sense to me.’
‘It does to me,’ said Paul as he realised what had happened. ‘Chevy Ruddock used his intelligence and they’re treating him as if he’s a fool. I need to speak to him.’ He shook Howlett’s hand. ‘Enjoy your drink. You deserve it.’
Harry Scattergood went through his plan one more time. Alan Kinnaird repeated it line by line. They were in the hotel where the latter was due to be arrested shortly in the guise of Charles Mifflin. The event had to be choreographed so that it looked convincing. If the Runners simply raided the hotel and seized the man they believed to be the killer, it would be too easy. There had at least to be an attempt at escape and Scattergood had worked out exactly the route to take. Once they’d had a verbal rehearsal, the two of them walked through it, inch by inch. Scattergood’s task was to leave the hotel and tell those surrounding it in which room they could surprise the assassin. By the time Yeomans and Hale got there, Kinnaird would have taken to his heels. The chase would then be on.
Pleased with their final practice, Scattergood slapped his friend on the back.
‘Well done, Alan!’
‘What if I get clear?’
‘You won’t – there are far too many of them.’
‘Do you want me to fight back?’
‘Have you ever heard of a killer giving in easily?’
‘No, Harry. I haven’t.’
‘Then remember one last thing. My name is Giles Clearwater. If you call me “Harry” in front of them, then our whole plan will fall apart. I’ll probably end up in the same cell as you and we wouldn’t have a sniff of that reward money.’
‘I’ll do as you say, Mr Clearwater.’
‘That’s better.’
Kinnaird bit his lip. ‘Something still worries me.’
‘I’ve told you before. There’s no chance that the Runners will catch the real killer. We’re completely safe.’
‘But if they did arrest him, they’d know I was a fraud.’
‘It simply can’t happen.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Trust me,’ said Scattergood, brimming with confidence. ‘The assassin thinks the way I think. When you commit a serious crime, you disappear quickly.’
He had read the letter dozens of times and become increasingly agitated. What he was holding was his own death warrant. It had been sent to the man who’d hired him in the first place, and it contained a curt command. Now that he’d served his purpose, the assassin had to be killed. At the end of the letter was a scrawled signature impossible to decipher. Though he pored over it for hours, he couldn’t decide exactly what it was. Instead, he came up with four versions of what it might be. Of the quartet, one name was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t remember why.
His gathering fury was matched by his utter frustration. He’d found the name he wanted in the letter, yet the person who wrote it remained tantalisingly out of reach. It was so exasperating that his head began to pound and veins stood out on his temples. Hoping that fresh air might help to clear his brain, he stepped out into the street and strode uncaringly along a busy thoroughfare. Pedestrians, riders and carts brushed past him time and again but he hardly felt them. His mind was elsewhere. Then a wagon rumbled past and hit him with a glancing blow that made him stumble. He started to berate the driver when he noticed the wooden cases stacked on the vehicle. A name was painted on the side of them.
Paul’s brief return home had helped to calm Hannah down slightly, but she still remained bruised by the turn of events. A polite invitation from the Prince Regent was very acceptable; a demand that she reached a prompt decision was not. She was never at her best under pressure and, in this case, the pressure had been intense. When she told Dorothea Glenn what had happened, the latter was incensed.
‘What a terrible thing to do to you, Miss Granville!’ she said.
‘He’s getting impatient.’
‘That’s no excuse. You were entitled to take your time before you made up your mind. Instead of waiting, the Prince Regent has forced you into making a decision that you might regret in time.’
‘I’m already regretting it, Dorothea.’
‘What did Mr Skillen say?’
‘He was livid. He said I’d been treated disrespectfully. If it had been anyone else but the Prince Regent, he would have confronted him. Paul is very protective of me. Anyway,’ said Hannah, ‘that’s enough about me and my worries. What have you been doing? When you go off to your room like that, I never know if you’ve been resting or brooding unnecessarily on what happened.’
‘I’ve finally stopped doing that,’ said Dorothea, determinedly. ‘After looking back at everything that happened between us, I finally accepted that Orsino was abusing my friendship. It took a huge effort for me to admit that I was so naive but, when I did finally do it, I felt a wonderful sense of relief. Orsino held me in thrall. I haven’t lost him at all. Someone helped me to escape his clutches. I mourn his death, naturally. Nobody deserves to die so young and in such a brutal manner. But I refuse to let him exercise influence over me from the grave.’
‘That was a courageous decision to make, Dorothea.’
‘You were the one who helped me to make it. When I was still in the grip of the illusion that Orsino and I were meant for each other, you let me talk for hours on end, even though you must have had reservations about the friendship that had arisen between us.’
‘I strove to keep my thoughts to myself.’
‘I can’t thank you enough for that, Miss Granville. All in all,’ said Dorothea with a weak smile, ‘it’s been a painful experience. However, I feel that it’s given me a new strength and a determination to be more careful in the choice of my friends.’
‘You’ll have plenty of those,’ said Hannah. ‘Talent such as yours will bring admirers coming to you in droves. That’s what happened to me. I had to learn very quickly how to separate true friends from those wishing to exploit me.’
‘I’m learning that same lesson now.’
‘Then something good has come out of all that sorrow and remorse you endured.’ Hannah took a deep breath. ‘I’m the one struggling with sorrow and remorse now. I was foolish to let myself be bullied into accepting that invitation from Brighton Pavilion. I simply don’t wish to meet the Prince Regent again.’
Chevy Ruddock and William Filbert were part of a group waiting in Bow Street for the summons to arrest the assassin. Ordinarily, the promise of action made Ruddock’s blood race. He loved the idea of being involved in a significant event because it would help his chances of promotion. This time the excitement was missing. He felt cheated, ignored and belittled.
‘It’s wrong, Bill,’ he said to his friend. ‘I did what they told me to do and found out that this man is an impostor. They didn’t believe me. Mr Yeomans was vicious. It was like being horsewhipped.’
‘Ignore him, Chevy.’
‘It was unkind.’
‘Yeomans and Hale are monsters. Look at today. While we’re shivering out here in the cold, they’re sitting in the warmth of the chief magistrate’s office. It’s one rule for them and one for us.’
‘It makes me feel as if I don’t want to do this job any more. Have you ever had that urge to walk away and forget all about the foot patrol?’
‘Yes,’ said Filbert, chortling. ‘I have it every day.’
‘I’m serious, Bill. I don’t feel appreciated.’
‘That’s the way it is for people like us.’
‘What do I have to do to make them take notice of me?’
‘Don’t ask me, Chevy. I take pains to make sure that they don’t notice me. I keep my head down. It’s the best way.’
‘Well, it wouldn’t wor
k for me. I need to have pride in what I do. Where is the pride in being rebuked by Mr Yeomans when I actually uncover evidence of a fraud? Why can’t they see that I tried to save them from making a terrible mistake?’
Unable to mask his anger, Ruddock apologised to his friend and moved away from the group. He needed to be alone for a while.
Paul had ridden to Bow Street in the hope that he might find Ruddock there. After tethering his horse, he’d crept up to the group and was in time to hear the latter’s complaints. As soon as Ruddock drifted away from the other members of the foot patrol, Paul moved in and took him by the arm.
‘I need to speak to you in private,’ he whispered.
Ruddock was alarmed. ‘I can’t talk to you, Mr Skillen. You’re our rival. Mr Yeomans will kill me if he sees me with you.’
‘That’s why we need to be out of sight,’ said Paul.
He took Ruddock around the corner, then tried to still his companion’s fears.
‘I’m on your side, Chevy,’ he said. ‘I’ve spoken to Simeon Howlett and I admire what you did. Giles Clearwater is an impostor.’
Ruddock was thrilled. ‘You believe it as well?’
‘I know it to be true.’
‘Oh, it’s so kind of you to say so, Mr Skillen. After I was shouted at by Mr Yeomans and Mr Hale, I began to wonder if I’d made a mistake. But I haven’t. You found out the truth as well.’
‘Why are you all waiting here?’
‘We’re supposed to be on our way to arrest the man who killed Sir Roger Mellanby. The assassin has been tracked by this so-called Giles Clearwater. But how can he do that when he’s just a character in a bad play?’
‘I think I know the explanation for that,’ said Paul. He heard the rasping voice of Micah Yeomans calling his men together. ‘You’d better go, Chevy. Don’t mention that you saw me and don’t be downhearted.’
Rage of the Assassin Page 26
