A Date with the Executioner

by Edward Marston

  She stretched out a tentative hand. ‘Do you forgive me?’

  ‘I can do that easily, Marion. But there’s someone I can’t forgive.’

  ‘Miss Granville?’

  ‘No, my dear,’ he said, penitently. ‘I can’t forgive myself for turning you from the true Christian you are into a vengeful harridan. That’s a terrible thing for any man to do to his wife.’

  Yeomans waved an arm and the ring tightened around the house. He could catch both of them together now, he thought, and return to Bow Street to bask in the approbation of the chief magistrate. When everyone was in position, he and Hale walked slowly up to the front door. After ringing the bell, he stood back, one hand fingering the butt of his pistol. The door was opened by a manservant. Thrusting him aside, Yeomans charged into the drawing room with Hale. They came to a sudden halt. Laetitia was sitting calmly in a corner, reading a book. She looked up with interest.

  ‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ she said. ‘Did you want something?’

  ‘We’ve come on police business, Miss Somerville,’ said Yeomans, gruffly. ‘You are under arrest.’

  She arched her back. ‘On what possible grounds, I pray?’

  ‘Mr Carr has given us several to choose from. We’ve received a deposition from him regarding you and your brother.’ She was startled into jumping to her feet. ‘Yes, we know who and what he is now. Mr Carr’s letter told us everything.’

  ‘Rawdon Carr is a notorious liar,’ she said.

  ‘You’ll be able to make that point in court.’

  He nodded to Hale and the latter moved to stand beside Laetitia, holding her arm. Though she tried to shake him off, his grasp was too firm. Yeomans took the pistol from his belt.

  ‘Where is your brother, Miss Somerville?’ he asked.

  ‘Stephen is not here.’

  ‘Yes, he is. We’ve been to his house. He received a summons from you and rode here at a gallop. Where are you hiding him?’

  ‘He left before you arrived,’ she snapped.

  ‘Take her out to the carriage, Alfred. I’ll lead the search.’

  Struggling in vain to get away, she was almost carried out into the street then shoved into a waiting carriage. Hale got in after her. Yeomans, meanwhile, called in four of his men and began a systematic search of the house. If Hamer was there, he reasoned, he was likely to be armed so Yeomans kept his weapon at the ready. The search, however, was fruitless. Since they’d been over every inch of the property with excessive care, they had to accept that Hamer was not there. Going back out into the street, Yeomans climbed into the carriage and it set off.

  Stephen Hamer watched it from his hiding place behind one of the chimneys. It was a precarious refuge but it had helped him to evade arrest. The Runners had gone and the members of the foot patrol went after them. It would soon be possible to descend. While he was waiting, he wondered how he could possibly rescue his sister.

  Peter and Paul Skillen had put urgency before comfort and travelled in a bumpy coach for most of the night. The recent dry spell of weather had left the roads hard and rutted, making the vehicle rock from side to side and, every now and then, plunge into a deep pothole that jarred every bone. It was not until they stopped for refreshment at a wayside tavern that they could talk properly. During the journey, the presence of other passengers had made any meaningful conversation well-nigh impossible. The privacy they now enjoyed was a relief.

  Peter harboured doubts. ‘This could be a calamitous mistake, Paul.’

  ‘They’re going to Scotland. I’m convinced of it.’

  ‘That may be so but are they going there directly? What if they stop off for a few days here and there? Scarborough, for instance, would be one of many agreeable places to stay at this time of year. They might not get to their ultimate destination for weeks.’

  ‘In that case, we wait for weeks.’

  ‘That won’t make us popular back at home.’

  ‘You were away for longer periods during the war, Peter, and so was I. Are you prepared to let Carr and his accomplice commit murder and remain unpunished?’

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  ‘There’s a secondary reason why you should want to arrest his accomplice and take her back to London. She’ll be carrying the money she swindled from the bank.’

  ‘I’d forgotten that. Mr Impey will be overjoyed if I return it to him. She was using the name of Hester Mallory at the time. I daresay that she’s passing herself off as Mrs Carr at the moment.’

  ‘She’s an interesting lady. I look forward to meeting her.’

  ‘So am I,’ said Peter, looking up at the clock on the wall. ‘Well, I know what Charlotte is doing at the moment. She’ll have had breakfast and will be setting off for the gallery very soon.’ He looked at his brother. ‘What about Hannah?’

  ‘She’s so pleased that the play has been rescued that she won’t even notice that I’m not there. When I took my leave of her last night, all she could talk about was the fact that rehearsals would start in earnest this morning.’

  ‘It looks as if we’ll both have to miss the first performance.’

  ‘Don’t give up hope. Carr’s boat may reach Edinburgh sooner than you think,’ said Paul. ‘The Piccadilly Opera has caused so much turmoil that I despaired of it ever being performed. Now that it will, I promised Hannah that I’d be there on the opening night and I fully intend to honour that promise.’

  The sense of relief was palpable. As she walked into the room, the rest of the company not only gave her a round of applause, they rushed across to thank her individually. In their eyes, she’d saved the play and ensured that they’d be paid for its duration. Fleet explained to them what changes would be made and how they needed to extend the length of rehearsals in order to make up for lost time. None of the actors had a complete copy of the play. All they were given were the pages containing their respective scenes. It was only when they watched the drama unfold before them that they realised how radical some of the alterations had been. The play began to flower for the first time. Freed from the glowering presence of Abel Mundy, the actors felt able to breathe properly at last and it showed in their improved performances.

  During a brief pause, Fleet took the opportunity to speak to Hannah.

  ‘What do you think of the play now, Miss Granville?’

  ‘It’s a work of genius,’ she replied.

  ‘That’s what I said from the very start.’

  ‘Its genius was too well hidden, then. We’ve brought it out and let it shine. I’m so gratified that Mr Mundy finally saw the wisdom behind my criticism.’

  ‘That isn’t quite what happened,’ said Fleet.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘But it’s close enough to the truth. Mr Tregarne’s intervention was a great help to us and his ariettas will provide an additional sparkle to the play. However, I bought the rights to stage The Piccadilly Opera with you in mind, Miss Granville. I have every confidence that, in its new form, it will even win unstinting applause from the man who first conceived it.’

  Laetitia had had to suffer the indignity of being squashed between the Runners as the carriage rolled towards Bow Street. Having woken up in a fragrant boudoir and been surrounded by domestic luxury, she’d been arrested by men whose breath stank and whose clothing smelt of the beer carelessly spilt over it. At a stroke, she’d lost her wealth, her position in society and her prospects. She was fearful that her life would be forfeit as well. When they reached Bow Street, she was formally charged and locked in a small, dank, fetid cell with barely room to move. It was insufferable.

  Rawdon Carr, their friend and mentor, had been responsible for her arrest but his wickedness was too appalling to contemplate. She therefore fixed her thoughts on her brother. Her one hope was that he would somehow come to her rescue. He would certainly not let her down. As long as he was at liberty, there was a chance of escape for her. Holding her nose to keep out the stench, she perched on the rough stool in her cell and closed her eyes.

&
nbsp; It was the best part of an hour before they came to fetch her. The cell door was unlocked and she was hustled along a corridor and into the chief magistrate’s office by Yeomans and Hale. They made her stand in front of the desk while Kirkwood read out the letter he’d received from Carr. It made her pulse with fury. The charges against her and Stephen Hamer were all there, laid out in chronological sequence.

  ‘What have you to say for yourself, Miss Somerville?’ asked Kirkwood.

  ‘That letter is nothing but a farrago of spite, hatred and lies,’ she said.

  ‘Given what my officers have told me, I’m inclined to believe every last word written here.’

  ‘And will Mr Carr be in court to justify his calumny?’

  ‘I’m not sure that he has to be. Certain facts are irrefutable.’

  He was about to deliver his standard homily to a person guilty of serious crimes when he was diverted by the sound of a commotion outside. Crossing to the door, Kirkwood opened it wide, only to be knocked back into the room by the solid frame of Chevy Ruddock.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said Ruddock. ‘He made me do that.’

  Held by his collar, he had a pistol pointed at his skull by Stephen Hamer.

  ‘If anyone so much as moves,’ warned Hamer, ‘I’ll blow his head apart. My sister is leaving with me right now. Stand back, all of you!’

  The Runners flattened themselves against the wall and Kirkwood squirmed his way into a corner. None of them doubted that the newcomer would shoot if necessary, and they were all too aware that he had a second pistol thrust into his belt. After killing Ruddock, he’d shoot one of them as well.

  Thrilled by her brother’s daring, Laetitia ran to his side. They began to back out of the room with Ruddock as their hostage. After finding their way to the main door, they went out quickly. A gig was waiting for them. Hamer helped his sister into the vehicle then clambered up beside her, snatching up the whip in order to crack it. The moment that Ruddock was released, however, he came to life. Instead of letting them ride off, he jumped on the gig from behind and got an arm around Hamer’s neck. There was a fierce struggle and Yeomans and Hale came out to watch it. Ruddock was bravely trying to wrest the pistol off Hamer. For her part, Laetitia was screaming abuse and using both fists to pound away at Ruddock. The Runners moved in swiftly. Hale grabbed the bridle so that the horse could not bolt and Yeomans joined the fight with Hamer. As the three of them twisted and turned and threshed away, the pistol suddenly went off and Hamer let out a howl of pain. He’d shot himself in the leg. Yeomans relieved him of the other weapon and dragged him uncaringly from the gig. Ignoring her imprecations, Ruddock soon overpowered the hysterical Laetitia.

  The attempted rescue had failed. They were doomed.

  The rehearsals were not always conducted in a spirit of jollity. There were inevitable setbacks. Minor squabbles broke out between actors, the scenery did not at first conform to the original designs and there was further upset when costumes didn’t fit. Lemuel Fleet presided over it all with avuncular tolerance. The main thing was that the play itself had acquired real quality in its new form and the contribution of Benjamin Tregarne added a wonderful operatic sheen. Words and music blended perfectly throughout. It was a pleasure to take part in it.

  ‘It’s very tiring,’ said Hannah, ‘but, at the same time, very refreshing.’

  ‘Don’t tell me too much about it,’ warned her friend, ‘or there’ll be no surprises left for me. Are you happy with the ariettas?’

  ‘Oh, yes. No disrespect to you and your piano, Charlotte, but the songs are so much better when sung in the auditorium for which they were written.’

  ‘Have you seen any sign of Mr Mundy?’

  ‘We’ve not had a peep out of him.’

  ‘He’s keeping to his promise, then.’

  ‘He’s finally realised that we work best when he’s not there.’

  It was almost a week since rehearsals had started again and they were dining together at Charlotte’s house. They’d heard of the arrests of Stephen Hamer and Laetitia Somerville and were shocked to discover that they were siblings. Charlotte had saved a newspaper that carried a full report of their arrests.

  ‘Peter will be so interested to read it,’ she said. ‘I know that we ridicule the Runners sometimes, but they have their triumphs just as we do.’

  ‘My triumph will be on the stage in ten days. Paul swore to me that he’d be there on the first night to support me but he could be marooned in Scotland for ages.’ Hannah clicked her tongue. ‘Why did he have to go all that way?’

  ‘He wants to catch Mr Carr – and so does Peter.’

  ‘But they have no idea if and when he’ll actually go to Edinburgh.’

  ‘Paul is certain of it.’

  ‘What about Peter?’

  ‘He’s less certain, to be honest,’ admitted Charlotte, ‘but he knows that his brother’s instincts are usually very reliable.’

  ‘I don’t like what I heard about this Mr Carr. Paul says that he’s a cold and calculating man. He’s the one who stabbed Mr Bowerman in the back.’

  ‘That tells us everything about him.’

  ‘He’s going to be slippery.’

  ‘Mr Carr will be off guard,’ said Charlotte. ‘When he sailed from London, he was confident that he and his accomplice had escaped justice. Who would bother to go such a long distance in pursuit of him? That’s what he’ll ask.’

  ‘And he’ll get his answer,’ said Hannah.

  The voyage had been relatively untroubled. As the boat sailed up the coast, they got a fascinating view of the geography of their country. The captain put into port now and then to buy supplies and to give his passengers the opportunity to feel dry land beneath their feet for a while. Then the vessel was soon on its way again. Expecting some discomfort, Carr and Edith were surprised by how well they felt. Their appetites were unimpaired and they remained in good health.

  ‘How much further is it, Rawdon?’

  ‘The captain says that we should dock early in the morning.’

  ‘Would that be Captain Hamer?’ she asked with a teasing smile.

  ‘No, it’s the skipper of this boat, as you know only too well. In any case, Stephen was never really a captain, remember. The court martial disposed of that ambition. It meant that he was blackballed at his club so came as a guest to mine.’

  ‘Where do you think he and Laetitia are?’

  ‘They’ll be awaiting sentence,’ said Carr, complacently. ‘The letter I sent to the chief magistrate was their death warrant. They’re no threat to us now.’

  ‘And what about those other men you told me about – the twins?’

  ‘Their names are Peter and Paul Skillen and they were embarrassingly clever. I’m glad we’ve sailed away from their clutches. Their chances of catching us are non-existent because they don’t have the slightest idea where we’re going.’

  Neither of them was temperamentally suited to a long, tedious wait but it had to be endured. For day after day, Peter and Paul had lurked in the harbour and watched vessels coming in or setting sail. Even at night they didn’t relinquish their surveillance. Taking it in turns to stay on sentry duty, they checked each boat that docked in the darkness. As a new day dawned, they were seated beside the Firth of Forth once again. Peter was fretful.

  ‘It’s a crying shame,’ he said. ‘Carr was right to say that this is a beautiful city but we’ve had no time at all to appreciate it. All that we’ve seen is water lapping the wharves as the fishing boats bring in their catch.’

  ‘It’s only a matter of time, Peter.’

  ‘You’ve been saying that for days.’

  ‘I say it and I believe it. They’ll come soon, mark my words.’

  ‘Edinburgh’s a fine place but some say that Glasgow will soon be bigger. What if Carr decides to go there instead?’

  ‘This is where he was born,’ said Paul, ‘and this is where he’ll come.’

  Buoyed up yet again by his brother’s certain
ty, Peter returned to his vigil. They’d come prepared. They’d brought a telescope with them. Since they’d been in Scotland, it had enabled them to study boat after boat as it approached.

  The first gestures of day slowly gave way to a rising blanket of light. As their eyes scanned the water, they saw two vessels heading their way. The larger was clearly a fishing smack and, even from that distance, they could pick out members of the crew moving about the deck. The second boat was the one that interested them. By using the telescope, Paul could see a man standing on the deck with his arm around a woman. He handed the instrument to his brother.

  ‘What can you see?’

  Peter peered through the telescope. ‘They’re here at last!’

  Legs braced against the swell, Rawdon Carr was pointing out some of the distinctive silhouettes of Edinburgh. He was thrilled to be back in his home town again. Edith listened to him patiently but there was far too much information to take in at once. What she was looking forward to was stepping off the boat for the last time. The excitement of the early stages of the voyage had palled and she needed something more stable beneath her feet. Because the boat was moving at only a moderate speed, there was plenty of time to admire their new home. Carr had told her so much about Edinburgh that she couldn’t wait to explore it. When the boat finally reached the wharf, it bounced against the timbers. While one of the crew tossed a rope, another jumped nimbly ashore to secure it to a bollard. When a second rope was in place, the vessel was safely moored. Carr and Edith thanked the captain and left a generous tip for him and his crew. They were then helped carefully off the boat.

  A few carriages stood nearby. Two men in large hats and long capes stepped forward to pick up the luggage that was unloaded from the boat. They carried it up to the vehicle at the front of the queue. Opening the door and keeping his head down, one of the men helped Edith into the carriage then stood back so that Carr could climb in beside her. The couple looked weary but contented. Holding hands they sat back in their seats. As he barked an order, Carr was imperious.