Peter drew comfort from something else. Having learnt so much in such a short time, they must have made more progress than the Runners. Yet he was not complacent. Yeomans and his men would be working hard to solve the case. In order to trounce their rivals, Peter and the others needed to push themselves to the limit.
His first port of call was the Home Office. Though Parliament was not in session, he knew that Viscount Sidmouth, the Home Secretary, would be at his desk, grappling with the many problems that landed on it at random. They were old friends who shared a mutual respect. Working as an agent in France during the war, Peter had reported directly to Sidmouth. The previous year he’d been engaged to find the Home Office cleaner when she mysteriously disappeared. In tracking the woman down, Peter had exposed a plot to strike at the very heart of government as the nation celebrated its victory at the Battle of Waterloo. Given his run of success, therefore, Peter felt that he’d earned the right to have privileged access to Sidmouth.
It was the ideal place to start.
‘How long have you been here?’ asked Paul.
‘I’ve lost count.’
‘Don’t you have enough money to buy your way out?’
‘As it happens, Mr Skillen, I do.’
‘Then why stay here?’
‘It’s my home.’
‘Do you actually enjoy rotting in a debtors’ prison?’
‘I don’t rot, my friend. I thrive.’
‘Life would be far better in more comfortable surroundings.’
‘I’d have too many distractions.’
‘It’s so unhealthy in here. The place stinks.’
‘You get used to things like that.’
Virgo was quite unlike the man Paul had envisaged. Tall, sinewy and with a livid scar on his cheek, he was obviously the person who’d called at Paige’s lodging and heard of his death. There were well over two hundred rooms in the prison and Virgo had secured one of the best of them, enjoying the luxury of being its sole occupant. Yet the room was cold, bare, featureless and short of natural light. The only thing that brightened it was the selection of his prints on the walls. On the table was a box of candles. Evidently, he needed extra illumination when he was at work. As well as paper, paint and writing materials, he had some engraver’s tools.
Conscious that he was still being weighed in the balance, Paul tried to win him over by telling him about the investigation. Virgo was grateful.
‘You’re doing all this for Leo?’ he asked.
‘He came to us for help. Since we couldn’t provide it before he died, we’re doing it after his death. That help, of course, extends to you.’
‘Why do I need help?’
‘We’re assuming that you’d like to stay alive.’
‘Nobody knows who I am.’
‘What if someone finds out?’
‘I know how to defend myself, Mr Skillen.’
‘I daresay that Mr Paige felt the same.’
When Paul had asked him for his real name, the man had declined to give it. Evidently, there was no point in trying to force it out of him. There was a tough, decisive, unrelenting quality about Virgo. If he wanted to confide in anyone, he’d do so at a time of his choosing.
‘If you’re locked in here,’ said Paul, ‘how could you visit Mr Paige?’
‘Fortunately, I can afford to buy Freedom of the Rules,’ explained Virgo. ‘That means I can venture out into the three square miles surrounding the prison. Were I to wish it – and, frankly, I do not – I could visit any tavern or place of entertainment I chose. My work absorbs me. Here at the King’s Bench things are very lax. As you know, it’s largely a place for debtors and for people convicted of defamation. That’s why it’s my spiritual home. I’m the prince of vilification.’
‘I’ve seen and admired your work. The wonder is that you and Mr Paige managed to escape being arraigned for libel.’
‘Leo and I came within inches of that fate many times. Nearly fifty years ago,’ he went on, reflectively, ‘John Wilkes was put in here for writing an article in the North Briton that dared to criticise the king. A mob assembled outside with the object of escorting Wilkes to the House of Commons where they felt their hero belonged. When they refused to disperse, the crowd was fired on by soldiers.’
‘I’ve heard tell of the massacre.’
‘It was an example of the common people rising up to defend a man they believed had simply told the truth. Leo and I have followed in Wilkes’s footsteps. We show no respect to people in authority. We strip them of their finery and display them naked to the public.’
‘You are both artist and engraver, I see.’
‘My task was to turn Leo’s wonderful words into memorable pictures.’
‘What was kept in the oak chest at his lodging?’
Virgo was surprised. ‘You heard about my visit?’
‘The landlord reported that someone had forced his way into his lodger’s room. What were you looking for?’
‘That’s my business.’
‘Why do you have to be so secretive?’
The man smiled. ‘For the same reason that you have to be so inquisitive, Mr Skillen,’ he said. ‘It’s in our natures.’ He glanced towards the door. ‘What did you think of my young messenger?’
‘Snappy? I liked him.’
‘He’s a clever boy. Snappy runs errands for me.’
‘He’s looking after my horse at the moment.’
‘If I know him, he’ll be riding it around the courtyard to the envy of all the other children. We’ve whole families in here. Snappy’s family has been here for years. In fact, his youngest sister was born here. Poverty is a crime – that’s what the law tells us. So they put people in the one place where they have little chance of paying off their debts. What money they do have goes on food and accommodation. The system has been skilfully devised to keep poor people even poorer.’ He ran his eye over Paul. ‘If you work at the shooting gallery, you must be proficient in all forms of fighting. Leo and I were the same at one time, but I traded my sword for an artist’s tools.’
‘Art can be a very powerful weapon. You’ve proved that.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Why won’t you tell me your name?’
‘I’m biding my time.’
‘What made you pick the name of “Virgo” as your sobriquet?’
‘When I feel I can trust you,’ said the other, ‘I might explain.’
‘Who are your sources of intelligence about leading politicians?’
Virgo sat back in his chair and subjected him to close scrutiny.
‘Tell me a little about yourself, Mr Skillen. You interest me.’
Having heard so much about her, Charlotte Skillen had some idea what to expect when she met the owner of the print shop. In the event, Diane Mandrake exceeded those expectations. When she came into the gallery, she seemed to fill it with her presence and with the bewitching odour of her perfume. What Charlotte saw was a woman of substance, authority and independent spirit. Neither Peter nor Paul had told her how extremely handsome Diane was. It took Charlotte a few moments to adjust her opinion of the woman. For her part, the newcomer was delighted to meet her, embracing Charlotte as if they were old friends, then standing back to appraise her.
‘We are two of a kind, Charlotte,’ she said, dispensing with formalities. ‘We are purposeful women, making our way in a man’s world. I have my print shop and you, I see, have a small kingdom here.’
‘I’d hardly call it that, Mrs Mandrake.’
‘Diane, please,’ corrected the other.
‘I simply work in here behind the scenes while the others deal with our clients and take on dangerous assignments.’
‘You’re an important member of the team. Gully Ackford said as much.’
‘That was kind of him.’
‘And so did Jem Huckvale. Not that he stayed long enough to explain why,’ added Diane with a laugh. ‘For some reason, he seemed frightened of me. I never thought of myself
as intimidating.’
‘Jem is very shy.’
‘He’s also very courageous. In taking on the task of guarding Leo, he was putting himself in jeopardy.’
‘He’s done that sort of thing many times, Diane. So, of course, have Peter, Paul and Gully. We live in a violent city, alas. One has to be on guard all the time. Whenever he took on hazardous assignments,’ she confessed, ‘I used to fear for Peter’s life. But I’ve learnt to trust in his abilities now.’
‘And so you should.’
‘He and Paul have remarkable talents.’
‘I know. Incidentally, how on earth do you tell them apart?’
Charlotte smiled. ‘It’s a question of instinct.’
‘My instinct would be to favour the wilder of the two.’
‘Then you’d have to pick Paul.’
‘Yet I couldn’t think of turning Peter down,’ said Diane, chortling. ‘If I was not constrained by the laws of decency, I’d marry the pair of them and have the best of both worlds. Paul’s madcap tendency would then be counterbalanced by Peter’s steadiness.’
‘Paul is less of a madcap since he fell in love.’
‘Really – who is the lady?’
Charlotte told her about her brother-in-law’s romance with Hannah Granville and how he’d pined for her ever since she went off to Paris. Diane listened with great interest. Feeling that she could confide in Charlotte, she broached a topic that had been on her mind all night.
‘Are you able to keep a secret?’ she asked.
‘I like to think so, Diane.’
‘This is not something I wish to be common property. Men would only snigger whereas a woman like you, I suspect, would understand.’
‘I’m all ears.’
‘You are, I take it, familiar with Mr Yeomans.’
‘It’s in the nature of our work to meet the Bow Street Runners all the time, Micah Yeomans, in particular.’
‘What do you think of him, Charlotte?’
‘I think he does his job to the best of his limited abilities.’
‘I was talking about his appearance and character. Be candid, please.’
‘Then I have to admit that I find him ugly, unpleasant and overbearing.’
‘How would you cope if he took an interest in you?’
‘That would never happen.’
‘It’s happened to me.’
Charlotte gaped. ‘Are you saying that …?’
‘So it appears,’ said Diane, grimacing. ‘When he came to the shop, he was far less hostile than Runners often are. He kept staring at me as if I were a celestial being. Ben Tite, who works for me, said that Yeomans came back later on and walked up and down the street so that he could peer into the shop. Tiring of the fellow, Ben went out and asked him if he wanted anything.’
‘What was his answer?’
‘Hearing that I was not there, he asked if Mr Mandrake was at home. When he was told that I no longer had a husband, Yeomans was plainly delighted. Can you think of anything worse than attracting an insufferable boor like that?’
‘No,’ said Charlotte, amazed at the news. ‘You may no longer be married but he certainly is. What would his wife think of his behaviour?’
‘If he bothers me too much, she may get to hear about it.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m not entirely sure, Charlotte,’ admitted the other. ‘How would you deal with unwanted advances from a man you despised?’
‘Oddly enough, I’ve been in a parallel situation. Not that the advances were exactly unwanted and I couldn’t possibly have despised the man. But,’ Charlotte went on, ‘I was in something of a dilemma.’
‘How did you resolve the situation?’
‘I married his brother, Peter.’
The visit to the Home Office had been productive. Sidmouth had been glad to see Peter Skillen and given freely of his time. A degree of tact and diplomacy was involved. Peter took care to say nothing about the Parliament of Foibles because he knew that Sidmouth was rather sensitive on the subject of satire. When he’d been a rather undistinguished prime minister years earlier, he’d been the target of vicious caricatures. Peter recalled seeing one that showed Britannia in a sickbed – the country’s economy being in a parlous state at the time – with the prime minister being kicked unceremoniously out of office through the door. After over a decade, he felt it must still rankle with Sidmouth.
While admitting that he’d been drawn into a murder investigation, therefore, Peter gave few details but turned the conversation around to a discussion of what politicians did when Parliament was not in session. Sidmouth was happy to regale him with anecdotes about his colleagues and about his political opponents. Peter had been able to slip the names of Sir Humphrey Coote and Gerard Brunt into the conversation, discovering that the former had a passion for cricket and that the latter was always trying to present his latest Private Members Bill in the Commons. Sidmouth made mention of Dr Penhallurick of his own volition, revealing that he had parliamentary ambitions and that he would be standing at the next election. The one person about whom Peter learnt nothing new was Julian Harvester.
When talk turned to other matters, the conversation became slightly strained. Sidmouth insisted on the necessity of suppressing Luddite activity with maximum force. While he didn’t condone destruction of property, Peter had sympathy for those thrown out of work by the introduction of new machines into factories and wondered how such an essentially kind, tolerant, fair-minded man as Sidmouth could employ such brutal methods. Having gathered as much information as he’d hoped for, Peter excused himself and left. On the ride back to the gallery, he hoped that Paul was having an equally profitable visit.
Paul Skillen had always preferred to look to the future rather than dwell on the past. In order to win Virgo’s trust, however, he was compelled to talk about the various escapades in his career, recalling how many times he and his brother had taken enormous risks in the pursuit of criminals. Virgo eventually raised a hand.
‘That’s enough, Mr Skillen, that’s enough. Your life story would fill a dozen novels of adventure. The miracle is that you’ve survived it all unscathed.’
‘Not entirely,’ confessed Paul. ‘I have scars all over my body and some of the worst are in my mind. Memories can be more painful than wounds.’
‘You speak to one who is all too aware of that.’
‘Is it my turn to ask questions now?’
Virgo spread his arms. ‘Be my guest.’
‘How did you come to know so much about Parliament?’
‘What did you see when you first came through the prison gates?’
‘I saw that the courtyard was thronging with life,’ replied Paul. ‘There was no real sense of it being a place of detention. I saw tailors, hatters, barbers, chandlers, grocers, oyster sellers and twenty or thirty gin shops. It was a boisterous market.’
‘Take a closer look on your way out.’
‘Why should I do that?’
‘Because you will observe what a rich variety of people have ended up here. They’re not all impecunious souls who scratch a pathetic living. Some of them have enjoyed wealth or power or both. Last year, for instance, Lord Cochrane was in here for alleged complicity in fraud on the Stock Exchange. He was a peer of the realm and a naval hero yet he ended up in prison. So did a bookseller found guilty of selling prints and books likely to inflame the passions of the young and tender mind. In short,’ said Virgo, ‘he offered erotica to his customers, almost none of whom, by the way, had young and tender minds. Some of those who bought obscene material from him were ageing politicians with dull wives. They needed stimulus.’
‘I begin to see what happened,’ said Paul. ‘Your sources are actually in here.’
‘Exactly,’ replied the other. ‘I befriended Lord Cochrane and had long conversations with him. The bookseller and I were instant comrades. From them and from the dozens of others in here who’ve brushed shoulders with the government, Leo and
I amassed enough scandal to go on producing the Parliament of Foibles for years. Ignorant and unwitting electors have no idea how many monsters they send to the House of Commons. It was our duty to point that out to them.’
‘What will happen now Mr Paige is no longer with us?’
‘I don’t know, Mr Skillen. I’m no wordsmith.’
‘You could still go on creating those wonderful prints.’
‘But I can’t haggle over their selling price with Mrs Mandrake.’
‘Why not? She seems an amenable lady.’
Virgo laughed. ‘Leo found that out. She was very amenable.’
‘I believe that Mr Paige lodged with her for a time.’
‘He did rather more than that. Where women were concerned, Leo had a craggy charm. It obviously worked on Mrs Mandrake. Until she tired of his faults, she … indulged him.’
Paul was interested to hear of the intimacy. It explained why Diane Mandrake was so eager to be involved in the hunt for the killer. Paige was both a source of prints that were always in demand, and her former lover. The information cast the print shop owner in a new light. Behind the carapace of respectability was a woman of strong emotions and impulsive action, aspects of character that she shared with Hannah Granville. Both women, Paul noted, were ready to defy convention and follow their heart.
The visit to the King’s Bench Prison had been a revelation in many ways. Virgo had turned out to be a man who’d found peace of mind in the least likely place. He was happy with his lot and – until Paige’s murder – had been happy in his work. That happiness had come to an abrupt halt and thrown his future into doubt.
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