Fugitive From the Grave

by Edward Marston

  She saw the tears forming in the other woman’s eyes.

  Paul Skillen was delighted to hear that the afternoon’s rehearsal had gone well. Though he still nursed doubts about the wisdom of allowing Elinor Ingram to continue as a member of the company, he saw virtue in the result.

  ‘Mr Teale is grateful for your acceptance of his decision,’ he said. ‘This is his way of thanking you, Hannah,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘Because you didn’t try to get Miss Ingram ousted again, he’s rewarding you by inviting us to dinner.’

  ‘That’s not true at all,’ she argued. ‘He issued the invitation for two reasons. The first is that I’m his leading lady and deserve the honour. The second is that his wife happens to be a great admirer of my work.’

  ‘Then she’s an unusual woman.’

  ‘Why do you say that? Mrs Teale clearly appreciates the finer points of theatrical talent.’

  ‘Most wives think that you should be feared rather than applauded, my love. You beguile their husbands so much. The manager is a perfect instance. Teale is clearly in thrall to you.’

  ‘Then why didn’t he agree to my demand?’

  ‘Ah,’ said Paul, ‘that’s a fair point.’

  ‘And if he is really entranced by me,’ she added, ‘he’d hardly be so eager for me to meet his wife. Married men who take a real interest in me suddenly become lusty bachelors.’

  ‘That’s what sets me apart from the herd, Hannah. I’m a lusty bachelor who’d prefer to be a married man.’

  She laughed. ‘This is no time to make another proposal,’ she said, kissing him lightly. ‘I’ve told you before that I’m not ready to become Mrs Skillen just yet. I will do so in time, I promise you, but my career must come first. You accepted that.’

  ‘I did so readily because I’m happy with our arrangement.’

  ‘Is that true?’

  ‘You know full well it is.’

  ‘Your behaviour will be censored accordingly. You risk the disapproval of the public and the condemnation of the Church.’

  Paul grinned. ‘That’s what makes it so infinitely appealing.’

  Peter went back to the gallery to find that Huckvale had just returned and was talking with Ackford. They gave Peter a warm welcome. Huckvale gave an account of his visit to Southwark and told them that Neville Taylor was far more personable than his father. They waited for him to finish his report before offering any comments.

  ‘I think that you should go to Mrs van Emden to pass on Taylor’s regards,’ said Ackford. ‘Her reaction will be interesting.’

  ‘I don’t believe that she should be provoked,’ said Peter.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Jem will get the same adverse response as Charlotte. All that she did was ask a harmless question about the past and Mrs van Emden flounced off. It was something she refused even to discuss.’

  ‘Perhaps she should be forced to discuss it.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Huckvale. ‘If there’s something in her past that we ought to know about, we must try to wheedle it out of her.’

  ‘There’s something you’re both forgetting,’ said Peter, reasonably. ‘She is a client of ours. Our task is to protect her from anything that might cause distress.’

  ‘What am I to do, then?’

  ‘Bide your time, Jem. There may be a moment when it’s safe to mention Neville Taylor to her, but this is definitely not it. Let me pick on something else you told us,’ he went on. ‘You mentioned a pump.’

  ‘Yes, it was an amazing contraption. It was getting water out of the garden faster than I could have done with a bucket.’

  ‘And you say it was designed by Mr Parry?’ asked Ackford.

  ‘Yes, Gully. Like his father, young Mr Taylor has the greatest respect for him.’

  ‘That was my point,’ said Peter. ‘If he was such a prolific inventor, what happened to all the patents? I can imagine him losing his money and, in a moment of despair, sacrificing his home in an ill-judged venture into gambling. That experience would have sobered anyone.’

  ‘He must have reached the point where he could no longer afford to drink,’ said Ackford.

  ‘Yet he’d still have his pride. Those patents were proof of his rare abilities as an engineer. I don’t think he’d ever have parted with them.’

  ‘Then where are they?’

  ‘And who has them now? That’s my question.’

  The dinner party was an unqualified success. It was held at the home of Vernon Teale, whose wife turned out to be a delightful hostess. A plump woman with radiant features, she’d abandoned a career in the theatre to look after her husband and raise their three children. Her passion for her old profession was without limit. She kept returning to her recitation of Hannah’s achievements onstage. Paul was delighted that she was held in high esteem by both husband and wife, not least because their praise obliterated all memory of the highway robbery and the man who was stalking her.

  ‘You truly are a second Sarah Siddons,’ said Amanda Teale.

  Hannah glowed. ‘Thank you, Mrs Teale.’

  ‘You’ve played all the Shakespearean heroines for which she became so renowned – Desdemona, Ophelia, Volumnia and Lady Macbeth. And you’re about to add Rosalind, another triumphant role for Mrs Siddons.’

  ‘Whatever Miss Granville touches,’ said Teale, ‘she turns to gold.’

  ‘Is that how you intend to pay her?’ teased Paul. ‘In solid gold?’

  ‘Would it were possible, I’d gladly do so.’

  ‘I’m not complaining,’ said Hannah. ‘Money is always a secondary consideration. Being allowed to serve my art is recompense in itself.’

  The conversation flowed freely all evening along with the wine. Time seemed to ripple past. By the time that they had to leave, both Paul and Hannah knew that they had just spent their most enjoyable hours in the city. If it was an example of what they could expect, it would make As You Like It a memorable experience. Hannah was transported. As they strolled back arm in arm towards their hotel, Paul felt that she was floating along beside him.

  It was when the hotel loomed up in front of them that the mood was rudely shattered. A woman screamed off to their left, causing them both to swing round in that direction. At the same moment, a man dashed out of the shadows on the other side of them, pressed something into Hannah’s palm, then fled. It was her turn to scream now. Paul swung round, saw the figure sprinting away and made to go after him, but Hannah clung hard to him.

  ‘Don’t leave me, Paul!’

  ‘But he’ll get away.’

  ‘Take me back to our room, I beg you.’

  Putting an arm around her shoulders, he hustled her along the street, then opened the door of the hotel so that she could go in. He followed her. Once inside, she opened her hand to see what she’d been given. It was an opal pendant. Hannah was at once pleased and disturbed; thrilled that she’d got back her favourite gift from Paul yet so unsettled by its touch that she wanted to toss it away. The opals sparkled under the light of the candles.

  ‘It’s your pendant,’ she said, holding it up for his inspection.

  ‘Look more closely,’ he advised. ‘It’s very much like it, I agree, but that is not the gift that I bought you.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  It was dark when they entered the churchyard and they needed a lantern to guide them to the shed that was to be their accommodation for the night. Chevy Ruddock stepped into it first, then emerged immediately to gulp in some fresh air.

  ‘It’s worse than ever in there, Bill.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ said Filbert. ‘Before I joined the foot patrol, I worked for a butcher. If you think that stench is bad, you should smell rancid meat or game that’s been hung far too long with the innards still inside the animal. The stink is enough to kill you. Go back in.’

  ‘I’ll let you do that.’

  ‘You need to get used to it, Chevy.’

  ‘If I stay in there too l
ong, I’ll keel over.’

  ‘Not if you take a swig of this,’ said Filbert, holding up a large stone bottle. ‘This will take away the smell.’

  ‘We’re not supposed to drink on duty.’

  ‘Who’s going to stop us?’

  ‘Mr Yeomans might take it into his mind to call in here.’

  ‘I know Micah Yeomans better than you,’ said Filbert, ‘and he won’t come here when he can sit in the Peacock Inn with Alfred Hale and drink himself into a stupor.’ He patted the bottle. ‘That’s what I’m going to do. Let’s step inside and have a first swig.’

  ‘After you …’

  Filbert cackled. ‘Coward!’

  When the older man had disappeared into the shed, Ruddock filled his lungs before he followed. He then sat on an upturned wooden bucket with both hands over his face. Minutes later, he found that the unpleasant odour had abated slightly, and realised that Filbert had lit his pipe and was puffing happily away. Before Ruddock knew it, the shed almost became inhabitable. Thanks to the tobacco, they were able to have a conversation without retching. Ruddock became so relaxed that he even had a swig from the stone bottle.

  ‘Listen,’ said Filbert, grabbing his arm.

  ‘I can’t hear anything, Bill.’

  ‘Open your lugholes.’

  Ruddock pricked up both ears and heard the faint sound of digging.

  Filbert was agitated. ‘They’ve come for the body already.’

  ‘Then they’re in for a surprise,’ said Ruddock, with a laugh. ‘What you hear isn’t the sound of a body being dug up – it’s the sound of one being lowered into the grave and covered up. If anyone did ride past today and saw the open grave, he’ll know that there’ll soon be a funeral. That means he’ll make a point of riding past the churchyard until he sees that the burial has taken place.’

  ‘Nobody told me that, Chevy.’

  ‘Yes, they did – this is the second time. I told you earlier.’

  Filbert was upset. ‘You did? That means my memory’s going.’

  ‘The earliest that anyone will come here on the prowl is tomorrow night. All we’re doing tonight is getting used to keeping vigil.’

  ‘Did I really forget what you told me?’ asked Filbert, with alarm. After a while, he let out his distinctive cackle. ‘Mind you, I remembered to bring the drink and the baccy, didn’t I? So my memory is still good for important things.’

  Arriving back in their room, they found the curtains drawn and candles burning. Hannah held the opal pendant close to a flame so that she could examine it carefully.

  ‘You’re right, Paul,’ she said. ‘It’s not your pendant at all.’

  ‘I could see that straight away.’

  ‘So why did he send it?’

  ‘I think he’s trying to trick you into believing that he’s restoring something of great value to you. This pendant must have come from a previous haul and he just plucked it out.’

  ‘I don’t want stolen goods from other robberies.’

  ‘But you do want the pendant that I gave you, surely?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Hannah, ‘but I’d hate to have it thrust into my hand the way that this one was. He flashed past me before I even knew that he was there. It’s frightening that he can get so close to me.’

  ‘It won’t happen again.’

  ‘You said that before.’

  ‘I’ll guard you around the clock, Hannah.’

  ‘You were guarding me this evening, but he still managed to reach me. We were both distracted by that woman’s scream.’

  ‘That taught us something new about the man. He has a female accomplice. She screamed at just the right time.’

  ‘If she’s his mistress,’ said Hannah, in distress, ‘he might have given her my pendant.’

  ‘We don’t know what his relationship is with her,’ said Paul, ‘but I very much doubt that she’s his mistress or his wife. Had she been either, she’d be far too jealous to help him ensnare another woman – if that’s what he’s trying to do.’

  ‘What he’s trying to do is to terrify me.’

  ‘He probably doesn’t see it that way, Hannah.’

  ‘That’s because he has a twisted mind.’

  ‘He spared you, my love – always remember that. But for his intervention, those other highwaymen would have molested you. Their leader knew who and what you were. Unfortunately, your talent attracts men of all kinds, bad as well as good. It’s the price of fame.’

  ‘How much longer must I go on paying for it?’ she asked, woefully.

  ‘He’ll keep on pestering you until I catch him.’

  ‘And when will that be?’

  ‘It will be as soon as is possible.’

  She sighed. ‘So, until then, I must go on suffering.’

  ‘I suffer as well, Hannah,’ he pointed out. ‘When you’re upset in any way, I share that suffering because I love you. I can’t bear to see you under such strain.’ He took her into his arms and held her tight. ‘What tortures me is that it’s partly my fault. I should have insisted on travelling with you in that coach to protect you.’

  ‘I had Mr Cosgrove to do that.’

  ‘He was too slow and only carried one pistol. I teach people how to shoot, remember. After all the time I’ve spent at the gallery, I can hit any target every time without fail. Had I been in that coach, I’d have shot two of those men from the saddle and the third would have bolted.’

  ‘I don’t blame you, Paul,’ she said, ‘but I would appreciate it if you rode with the coach when we have to return to London.’

  ‘There’s no need to ask, my love. It was already my intention.’ He held her away from him and gave an encouraging smile. ‘Now, let’s get ready for bed, shall we, and banish these troublesome thoughts.’

  ‘There’s one that won’t be so easily banished.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘He set a clever little trap for us,’ she said. ‘They were waiting for us. How did he know that we’d be returning to the hotel this evening?’

  Harry Scattergood’s greatest asset was his ability to escape from any danger. On the rare occasions when he couldn’t evade arrest, he always managed to escape from custody. Indeed, there had been times in his younger days when he’d deliberately allowed someone to apprehend him for the pleasure of slipping out of their hands and laughing derisively as he ran away. Having had one productive night in St Albans, he planned to enjoy another. He’d singled out one of the largest houses in town. Getting inside it was simplicity itself because he’d long since mastered the art of picking a lock. His other strength was his ability to move around in absolute silence. Creaking boards never creaked under the tender tread of his feet and sleeping dogs somehow remained resolutely asleep. He floated from room to room like a phantom.

  When he was ready to strike, he tethered his horse in a copse fairly close to the house and approached on foot. No light showed in any window, so he reasoned that the whole household was abed. After walking slowly around the property, he chose to enter by means of a rear door, picking the lock deftly and easing the door open enough for him to glide in. He then left it ajar in case he had to make a quick exit. He waited until his eyes eventually became accustomed to the dark, then he quickly identified the dining room and felt his way into it. A house of that size and splendour, he’d already decided, would have ample silver plate and tableware. The sack which he’d brought with him was swiftly and soundlessly filled. Back in London, he knew where he could get a good price for his haul and for the items garnered on the previous evening. Scattergood smiled at his good fortune. St Albans was ridiculously easy to rob.

  It was an opinion that was hastily revised. Before he could quit the premises, he heard heavy footsteps coming down the staircase. A spill of light came into view under the door. Scattergood immediately ducked out of sight beneath the table. The footsteps went past the dining room, then stopped at the rear door. He heard it being slammed shut and locked, cutting off his escape by tha
t means. A systematic search of the downstairs rooms followed. When the light finally burst into the dining room, he could see the sturdy legs of a manservant and assumed that he was holding a candelabrum. What he couldn’t see was that there was a stout walking stick in the man’s other hand.

  Scattergood stayed where he was, hardly breathing. When the legs walked around the table, he was convinced that his hiding place was safe. The walking stick was then suddenly wielded with great force, catching him on the thigh and making him yelp in pain. He crawled out of his refuge, stood up and saw a stocky man in a dressing gown, ready to take a second swing at him. Scattergood parried the blow with the sack of stolen silver, but it was knocked clean out of his hand. As it crashed to the ground, it made such a frightful clatter that it woke up the entire house. Voices began to shout angrily upstairs. The servant responded.

  ‘There’s an intruder in the dining room!’ he yelled.

  Scattergood tried to dart for the door, but was hampered by the pain in his thigh. Reduced to an agonising limp, he came into the hall only to see another figure lurching towards him with a stick in his hand. The little thief took to his heels and was chased around the entire ground floor. Scattergood was handicapped by the fact that his two pursuers knew the geography of the place far better than he did. When they thought they’d finally cornered him, he dodged past them and fled upstairs, only to find other weapons ready to belabour him. Having been buffeted on all sides, he was dazed by a woman who hit him across the back of his head with an empty warming pan. Scattergood just had sufficient strength to dive into a bedroom and turn the key in the lock.

  Mercifully, the room was unoccupied, but he couldn’t possibly stay there. Servants were already hammering on the door. He flung open the window and jumped straight through it. Though he made a soft landing on grass, his leg was on fire, the bruises on his body were smarting and his head still pounding. It was all he could do to drag himself to the copse without being seen. There was a final indignity. When he reached the clearing where he’d left his horse, he saw that the animal was no longer there. It had been stolen.