‘Only that we’re proud to do our duty, sir.’
‘What about you, Hale?’
‘I agree with what Micah just told you, sir,’ said Hale. ‘It’s an honour to uphold the law.’
‘Then why can’t you do it with at least a modicum of honesty?’
‘We always do, Mr Kirkwood.’
‘Honesty is our touchstone,’ affirmed Yeomans.
‘Yet your version of events is wildly at variance with the other one that I was given. Both accounts can’t be right. What you clearly don’t know,’ said Kirkwood, ‘is that Mr Peter Skillen gave me his report of what occurred.’
‘Don’t believe a word of it, sir.’
‘He’ll tell you anything,’ warned Hale.
‘We captured those two men.’
‘Mr Skillen doesn’t deny that you made the actual arrests,’ said Kirkwood, ‘but it was he who led you to the tavern where the two men were found. He, after all, had a personal interest in catching them because they’d abducted a close friend of his and left him trussed up in a coal cellar. It now transpires that Swait and Cooper were also responsible for knocking down doors and releasing two dogs at the shooting gallery in the middle of the night.’
‘We were unaware of that, sir,’ confessed Yeomans.
‘You seem unaware of most things.’
‘That’s unfair. We made significant arrests.’
‘Unfortunately,’ said Kirkwood, ‘you never got anywhere near their true significance because you never established who actually paid these ruffians. Mr Skillen clearly did. He was exuding quiet satisfaction. In essence,’ he went on, ‘this case has demonstrated why the Skillen brothers can out-think, outmanoeuvre and outrun you at every turn. Two prisoners are in custody and I applaud your role in putting them there. But you failed utterly to connect their activities with the murder of Mr Mark Bowerman. That is what Mr Skillen did and why he left here with such celerity.’
Yeomans gasped. ‘He knows who hired those two rogues?’
‘He’s gone off to confront the man.’
‘Who is he?’ asked Hale. ‘We must get to him first.’
‘Yet again,’ said Kirkwood, scornfully, ‘you are far too slow. Instead of deserving the name of Runners, you should have another appellation altogether. You and Yeomans are Bow Street Snails. You can only crawl while the Skillen brothers do the actual running.’ Yeomans and Hale were thunderstruck. ‘Don’t just stand there like a pair of marble statues. Get after them!’
Hannah Granville had improved markedly. On the journey between the gallery and the house, she showed no sign of fear and didn’t once look out of the carriage window with trepidation. Seated beside her, Charlotte was pleased that her friend was no longer frightened of her own shadow. In place of her normal garrulity, Hannah was also remarkably quiet, not to say contemplative. The ride was conducted in silence for the most part. Charlotte waited until they were safely inside the house before she made any comment.
‘I’m so pleased that you’ve regained your confidence,’ she said.
Hannah looked bemused. ‘Have I?’
‘You’re refusing to let anyone unsettle you.’
‘That’s because I’m unsettled enough as it is, Charlotte. The truth of it is that I behaved atrociously at the theatre. Mr Fleet was begging us to find a middle way and I stayed rooted to an extreme position.’
‘According to you, Mr Mundy did likewise.’
‘That was only in response to the stance I took,’ admitted Hannah. ‘If I’d been less demanding and more persuasive, we’d never have been in this mess. Yes, he was to blame as well. What he alleged about my performance was unpardonable. I despise him for it. But I offended him deeply. I hurt his pride so much that his only defence was to denigrate my talent.’
‘It’s beyond reproach,’ said Charlotte. ‘Everyone accepts that.’
There was another sign of improvement. Without even thinking, Hannah had led the way into the drawing room, the very place where the window had been smashed only feet away from her. It held no terrors for her now. Beside the prospect of the cancellation of the play, it was now a minor consideration.
Through a part of the window not boarded up, Charlotte saw a carriage draw up outside and wondered who the visitor might be. It was Hannah who identified him first. As the waddling figure of Lemuel Fleet alighted from the vehicle, she braced herself for the inevitable.
‘It’s the manager,’ she said. ‘He’s come to tell me that The Piccadilly Opera has been replaced by another play and that I’ve been replaced in the company.’
‘He can’t do that. You have a contract.’
‘In behaving the way I did, I effectively renounced it.’
‘It would be madness to dispense with you, Hannah.’
‘He might think it a greater lunacy to retain my services.’
Charlotte stood up. ‘Would you like me to leave you alone with him?’
‘No, no, I may need your support.’
‘I don’t wish to be in your way.’
‘Without you, Charlotte, I’d be lost.’
She reached out to take her friend’s hand and pull her back down onto the sofa. The doorbell rang and Lemuel Fleet was soon ushered into the room. In sweeping off his hat, he dislodged his wig, pushing it forward so that it covered one eye. He quickly readjusted it. After an exchange of greetings, he was offered a seat.
‘How are you, Miss Granville?’ he enquired.
‘I am not at my best, sir.’
‘Yet you seem considerably more serene now.’
‘That’s the serenity of exhaustion, Mr Fleet. I am so tired.’
‘Then I won’t keep you long from your slumber.’
There was an uncomfortable pause. Charlotte tried to lighten the atmosphere.
‘Would you like some refreshment?’ she asked.
‘No, thank you.’
‘I know that I’m intruding but only at Hannah’s insistence.’
‘I’ve no objection to your presence, Mrs Skillen,’ he said. ‘Miss Granville has oftentimes told me how staunch a friend you are. This is a time when we all need to lean on our friends.’
‘Break it to me, Mr Fleet,’ said Hannah, unable to stand the suspense. ‘If I am to be dismissed, do it swiftly and without malice.’
The manager was shocked. ‘How can you even suggest such a thing?’
‘It would be no less than justice.’
‘I’m not here to dismiss anybody,’ he told her, reaching into his pocket to take out a scroll. ‘I came to deliver this for your consideration.’
‘What is it?’
‘It’s one of the songs that Mr Tregarne has composed for you. Strictly speaking, he did not have you in mind when he first worked on it but I think you’ll find that it captures the mood perfectly in Act Five.’ He handed her the scroll. ‘Peruse it at your leisure. Do you have a piano here?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘There’s one at our house,’ volunteered Charlotte, ‘and I’d be happy to accompany Miss Granville. But if this is a song for the play, are you saying that it might still be staged?’
‘That’s in the lap of the gods, Mrs Skillen. I say no more.’
He got up, bade them farewell and left the room. Hannah was motionless.
‘Well, go on,’ urged Charlotte. ‘See what he brought for you. You have an opportunity to sing a new-minted song by no less a composer than Mr Tregarne. Every singer in the country will be green with envy.’
On his previous visit to the house, Peter Skillen and his brother had charged in without invitation. He was more patient this time. Arriving on his own, he asked the servant to tell her master that he’d called on a matter of urgency. After a long wait, he was allowed in. Stephen Hamer was alone in the room where he kept his souvenirs. Peter was shown in. There was a muted exchange of greetings.
‘It seems that you’ve learnt some manners at last,’ said Hamer.
‘I’ve come with a simple request.’
/> ‘What is it?’
‘I need the address of Mr Carr.’
‘Why? What’s your business with him?’
‘I have to pass on some bad news,’ said Peter. ‘The two men he hired to abduct our friend are now in custody. As it happens, they were also behind the attack on the shooting gallery when the doors were battered down and dogs allowed in.’
‘I’ve said before that I know nothing of that.’
‘Mr Carr does. He paid them handsomely.’
‘That’s highly unlikely,’ said the other, mustering some indignation. ‘I’ve known Rawdon Carr for many years. He’s a man of principle. If two villains are making allegations against him, I’d advise you to ignore them.’
‘It may well be that Mr Carr is innocent of the charges. At all events, he deserves the right to defend himself against them. That’s why I need his address. You are most welcome to accompany me, Lieutenant Hamer.’
Hamer winced. ‘I was worthy of a captaincy,’ he said.
‘Your military career must bring you a lot of satisfaction,’ said Peter, looking around the collection. ‘It obviously meant a great deal to you. What a shame it is that you chose to throw it all away.’
‘I fought for my country, Mr Skillen. It’s more than you can claim.’
‘That’s debatable. For the record, I worked as an agent behind enemy lines for a number of years and was answerable directly to the Home Secretary. It was because of my relationship with him that I was able to obtain details of your service record from the War Office.’ He indicated a weapon in a glass case. ‘I carried a pistol just like that,’ said Peter, ‘and I had a dagger similar to those on display here secreted about my person in case of emergencies. They often cropped up. In our different ways, Lieutenant Hamer, we both fought for our country.’
Hamer studied him with a grudging respect. He and Carr were up against a more formidable opponent than they’d imagined. His immediate problem was how to buy time in order to warn his friend.
‘You have come to the wrong place, Mr Skillen,’ he said. ‘The truth is that I don’t know where Mr Carr lives. He never stays anywhere long. He will rent a house for a few months then move to another temporary abode. There’s a touch of the nomad about Rawdon Carr.’
‘Then all you have to do is to name the company from whom he rents his houses. Is it the same agency as the one looking after that house of yours where the murder of Mr Bowerman occurred?’
‘It could be,’ muttered the other.
‘Then why didn’t you give him free access to it? If Mr Carr is such a revered friend, why didn’t you offer him the empty property that you own? That’s what I’d have done in your position.’
‘You’re not in my position, Mr Skillen.’
‘I’m sincerely grateful for that, sir.’
There was a moment of high tension. Hamer bristled and Peter got ready to repulse an attack. In a room full of weapons, it would have been easy to reach out and grab one. That was exactly what Hamer seemed on the point of doing. What held him back was the discovery that Peter had worked as a British spy in France and must therefore have endured many hazards. Evidently, he would defend himself well.
‘I’m afraid that I can’t help you,’ said Hamer at length.
‘I had a feeling you’d say that.’
‘As for these preposterous charges against my friend, I’d dismiss them out of hand. He would never be party to a kidnap.’
‘You have a rather higher opinion of Mr Carr than I do.’
‘He’s stood by me through some very difficult times,’ asserted Hamer, ‘so I’m well aware of his strength of character. I’d trust him with my life.’
‘Forgive me,’ said Peter, ‘but the only life that concerns me at the moment is that of our friend, Jem Huckvale, who was tied up in a coal cellar and could well have perished there – thanks to Mr Carr.’
‘This is nothing to do with him.’
‘We shall see.’
‘You are relying on the word of two mendacious ruffians.’
‘They’re hoping to win favour by telling the truth for once,’ said Peter. ‘However, I can see that I’m wasting my time here. Since you seem strangely unaware of where your friend resides, we’ll have to find his address by other means. Goodbye, Lieutenant.’
Turning on his heel, Peter walked to the front door and let himself out of the house. Hamer, meanwhile, was throbbing with anger. Going to the window, he watched his visitor mount his horse and ride away. Hamer rushed to the library, sat down at his desk and dashed off a letter before summoning a servant. He thrust the missive into the man’s hands.
‘Take this to Mr Carr immediately.’
As the man left the house at speed, he soon went past an alleyway without looking down it. The diminutive figure of Jem Huckvale stepped cautiously into view then set off in pursuit.
While his brother had gone to Stephen Hamer’s house, Paul Skillen went in search of the same information at the home of Laetitia Somerville. Though he was admitted at once, he was kept waiting for a long time in the drawing room. He surmised that she was rehearsing her role as a bereaved widow. Even though she’d never married Mark Bowerman, she was behaving as if she’d been his loving wife. Paul wished that Hannah had been with him. In the presence of a real actress, Laetitia might wilt into the patent impostor she was.
When she eventually appeared, it was once again in mourning attire. She apologised for keeping him waiting but had a warning for him.
‘State your business and leave,’ she said, brusquely. ‘Since Mr Bowerman’s death, I have not slept a wink. A physician will be arriving shortly with a much-needed sleeping draught for me.’
‘Oh, I’d wager you’ve been dozing happily enough,’ said Paul.
‘I find that remark insulting, Mr Skillen.’
‘It will save time if you drop the pretence of being grief-stricken. We both know that Mr Bowerman was an unfortunate gull at the mercy of a clever plot. I’ve spoken to Sir Geoffrey Melrose and to Mr Winters, disreputable company for a putative lady like you to keep. You are a predator, Miss Somerville,’ he said, ‘but that’s not why I’m here.’
‘I’ve already heard enough,’ she said, haughtily. ‘Leave at once, sir, or I’ll have you thrown out of this house.’
‘Your manservant and I have tussled before. He’ll need three or four others to help if he’s to dislodge me. Threaten all you wish. It’s pointless. I’ll not move until you’ve answered the question that brought me here.’
‘And what is that, pray?’
‘Where is Mr Carr?’
She laughed. ‘How on earth should I know?’
‘You and he and Lieutenant Hamer are bosom friends.’
‘I deny that.’
‘Spare me your denials and furnish me with the address.’
‘I cannot give you what I don’t possess, Mr Skillen.’
‘Are you claiming that you’ve never been to his house?’
‘I’ve no reason whatsoever to do so.’
‘Mr Carr strikes me as a hospitable man. He must have invited you there.’
‘Rawdon Carr is no friend of mine,’ she said with sudden force, ‘and he never will be. I have no idea where he lives and no wish to do so. Really, Mr Skillen, you and your brother seem to have an alarming penchant for slander. If you persist in making groundless accusations, it will land both of you in court.’
‘Litigation will certainly come in due course,’ said Paul, blithely, ‘and we’ll welcome it. Mr Bowerman was my friend. To preserve his good name, I feel duty-bound to contest his will.’ She paled visibly. ‘I see that you understand my meaning.’
‘Get out!’ she yelled.
‘I’m staying until you give me that address.’
Walking to a table, she picked up a small bell and rang it loudly. Within seconds, a manservant came into the room and levelled a pistol at Paul. The visitor gave a philosophical shrug.
‘It seems that I may have to leave, after all,�
�� he said.
Encouraged by the reception he’d received at her hands, Fleet left Hannah Granville to study the new song and went straight to the house where Abel Mundy was staying. He was dismayed to learn that the playwright was not available.
‘My husband has taken to his bed,’ explained Marion.
‘Is he ill?’
‘He’s exhausted by all this spitefulness and uncertainty.’
‘As, indeed, am I, Mrs Mundy.’
‘Do you have a message for him?’
‘I’d hoped to have a proper conversation,’ said Fleet. ‘Time is running out. A final decision must be made about the future of The Piccadilly Opera. The whole company is imploring me to save it from cancellation. Such a course of action would be a huge disappointment to the theatre-going public.’
‘All that I care about is my husband’s health.’
‘He would surely recover if his play were to reach the stage at last.’
‘That prospect seems less likely by the day. My husband has not given me the full details of the latest outburst by Miss Granville. Judging by the state in which it left him, I can only conclude that it was vile.’
‘There were, alas, unkind epithets hurled on both sides.’
‘I refuse to believe that Abel is capable of descending to outright abuse.’
Fleet thought better of disillusioning her. Marion Mundy had a vision of her husband that featured a reasonable voice and an angelic disposition. She didn’t realise that, when provoked, he could lose his temper with violent effect.
‘How is he, Mrs Mundy?’ he asked, probing gently.
‘He is in despair, sir. We spent some time praying together.’
‘Then I wish the Lord had been more attentive to your pleas,’ he said under his breath. ‘If this play falters,’ he added aloud, ‘I stand to lose a lot of money and I’ll sustain serious damage to my reputation as a manager.’
By way of a reply, she lowered her head. He accepted that it was no use asking her to intercede on his behalf. Concern for her husband’s health took precedence over anything else. In her opinion, he was without fault. The problems all arose from the employment of Hannah Granville. Nothing would convince her otherwise. The manager was about to take his leave when the playwright came into the room.
A Date with the Executioner Page 25