He faced them again. ‘Did these two men return there last night?’
‘No, sir,’ replied Yeomans.
‘You say that with confidence.’
‘One of my best officers had the property under surveillance.’
‘In the process,’ Hale put in, ‘he managed to arrest two thieves.’
‘A brace of thieves is a poor exchange for a brutal killer,’ said Kirkwood, acidly. ‘Thieves are ten a penny in London. Those who stoop to a deplorable act of homicide are, thankfully, in shorter supply.’
‘And they are usually more difficult to catch, sir.’
‘However,’ said Yeomans, eager for approval, ‘we have hopes of catching this one tonight. Information came to us this morning that the men we’re after did venture out last night. But instead of going to Doll Fortune’s house, they sought pleasure elsewhere.’
‘How do you know that it was the same men?’ asked Kirkwood.
‘It’s because they behaved in the same crude way, sir.’
‘Crudity is surely standard practice in such places.’
‘Violence is not,’ said Yeomans. ‘These men treated their whores so badly that the women had to be rescued.’
‘That sort of thing must happen on a nightly basis, Yeomans.’
‘There’s a telling detail in this instance.’
‘What is it?’
‘One of the men called himself Leonidas Paige again.’
‘Who else would do that but the killer?’ asked Hale.
The Runners had the pleasure of seeing a smile of congratulation flit across Kirkwood’s face. It was not translated into words. The chief magistrate resumed his seat and made a few notes in a ledger. He looked up again.
‘What’s your plan, Yeomans?’
‘I’m having every brothel in Covent Garden watched tonight, sir.’
‘Will they come back again?’
‘I’d bet my gold watch on it.’
‘You don’t have a gold watch, Micah,’ said Hale.
‘It was simply my way of saying that I’d place a large wager on it.’
‘I take your point,’ said Kirkwood. ‘Over the years, you’ve developed your instincts. In this case, I believe them to be sound.’ Yeomans winked at Hale. ‘That’s not to say you can’t be hopelessly mistaken, of course. Very well,’ he went on with a dismissive gesture. ‘Off you go. I don’t wish to see either of you until you can report the arrest of these two men. And if the Skillen brothers apprehend them before you do, I’d advise you not to come back to me at all.’
Returning to the gallery, Paul Skillen heard the latest news from Charlotte. The damage inflicted on the print shop upset and annoyed him. He felt that it was a prelude to even more serious attacks.
‘How far do you think they’ll go?’ asked Charlotte.
‘They’ll go as far as they judge necessary.’
‘Are you saying that they’d commit murder?’
‘One of them has already done so.’
‘In that case, Mrs Mandrake is in mortal danger.’
‘I don’t think she’d lose any sleep over that, somehow,’ he said.
‘I admire her bravado,’ she declared, ‘but I think it’s misplaced. Peter will think the same. I’m hoping that he can persuade her to move in with us until the case is solved.’
‘Your hopes may be dashed. Moving out of her own home would be in the nature of a defeat for her and Mrs Mandrake would never give ground.’
‘Then perhaps you or Peter should move in with her?’
Paul laughed. ‘Do you mean that one of us should share a bed with the lady?’ he said. ‘Neither of us would be equal to that test. Beside, Peter is married to you and I’m already spoken for.’
‘She needs protection, Paul. We failed Mr Paige. I’d hate to see us fail Mrs Mandrake as well. What can one woman do against a murderous villain and his accomplice?’
‘She can shoot straight, Charlotte.’
The door opened and Ackford came into the office. He asked for a report on the visit to the prison. As Paul described his visit to the King’s Bench, they were spellbound. One detail made Ackford slap the table hard.
‘So that’s the explanation,’ he said. ‘When I told Leo that you and Peter were brothers, he burst into laughter. I couldn’t understand why. What tickled him was the coincidence that, just as you and Peter work in harness, he and his brother were also yoked together. They were another family enterprise.’
‘Both began as soldiers,’ said Paul, ‘then decided to fight another war by very different means. As brothers, they’d have a sort of understanding.’
‘It could never be like the understanding that you and Peter share.’
‘That’s different, Gully. We’re twins.’
‘Should we tell Mrs Mandrake what you’ve discovered?’ asked Charlotte.
‘No,’ said Ackford, firmly, ‘we shouldn’t. Peter advised against it and I agree.’
‘We say nothing at all about Virgo,’ decreed Paul. ‘Mrs Mandrake has enough to worry about at the moment. She must be thinking the same thing as us. If someone is prepared to smash the shop window in broad daylight, what would he be prepared to do under the cover of darkness?’
Hauling himself up from the bed, Abel Fearon grabbed his hat from the hook on the back of the door. Sim Higlett looked up from the game of patience he was playing on the table.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked.
‘I’m going to collect my money.’
‘Our money,’ corrected Higlett. ‘You promised to split everything in two.’
‘I was the one who rode the horse and threw the stone.’
‘Who told you where you could hire the horse?’
‘You did, Sim.’
‘Then I deserve my share.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ grumbled Fearon.
‘How much will you get paid?’
‘Enough.’
‘Maybe I should come with you.’
‘Why – don’t you trust me?’
‘We’re partners, Abel. We’re in this together.’
‘Then you ought to be able to trust me. Have I ever let you down before?’ Higlett shook his head. ‘No, I haven’t – and I’m not going to start now.’
‘I know.’
‘Then why are you bleating about equal shares? I never stint you. Take what you get and be glad.’
‘How long will you be?’
‘That depends on how long he keeps me.’
‘Where are you seeing him?’
‘It will be in the usual place, Sim. He’s a man for taking precautions.’
‘I still wonder what his name is,’ said Higlett. ‘I like to know the person I’m working for. This man is a complete stranger.’
‘He got us out of Newgate. That’s all that matters.’
‘Yes, but why did he pick us?’
‘I’m a handsome man.’ Fearon grinned. ‘He liked the look of me.’
Peter Skillen’s search was futile. Several of the neighbours remembered seeing the man on the galloping horse but nobody could give a description of him because he’d flashed past them at such speed. Other shopkeepers in Middle Row were simply grateful that it had not been their windows that had been smashed in. Apart from expressing sympathy for Diane Mandrake, they had little to say about the incident. When he returned to the print shop, Peter found that the terrified servants had been flushed out of their room by Diane and ordered to get rid of the remaining debris. On their knees in the shop, they kept looking anxiously into the street as if expecting a second visit from the horseman.
Since the entire stock was now in the back room, Peter was able to look through all of the folders. They contained prints he’d never seen before. He hadn’t realised there were so many. It was an education for him. Virgo was well represented but there were many other excellent drawings, all with a sharp bite and many with grotesque obscenities. It was interesting to compare Virgo’s caricatures of certain politicians with ot
hers who chose the same targets. All had seized on a significant feature of each individual and magnified it to the point of absurdity. Peter noticed that Viscount Sidmouth still got some critical attention but it was the more flamboyant characters who tended to dominate the collection. Nothing he saw persuaded him to change his opinion of who the prime suspects should be. On the evidence of the prints, nobody’s name could either be added or taken away.
Sir Humphrey Coote was popular among all satirists, as was Gerard Brunt. Whenever Dr Penhallurick was introduced, he was always depicted offering bogus remedies to Lord Liverpool or to members of his Cabinet. Julian Harvester was also shown in the company of the prime minister, shovelling handfuls of money into Liverpool’s pockets by way of a bribe. Peter laughed out loud at some of the wicked comments and lewd innuendoes. When he looked at all of Virgo’s cartoons ridiculing Harvester, he saw something he hadn’t noticed before. Most of them had a sumptuous mansion in the background. Sketchily drawn, it nevertheless had a symbolic value.
Having calmed down Tite at long last, Diane peered over Peter’s shoulder.
‘What have you found?’ she asked.
‘It’s this mansion – at a glance, it tells you that Mr Harvester has immense wealth.’
‘I realise that every time I go past it.’
He looked up at her. ‘This place is real?’
‘It’s his London residence, Peter. He may be a commoner but Harvester lords it when he comes to town. Leo was enraged whenever he saw houses of that size. He thought it was disgraceful that a privileged few enjoyed such luxury while the masses lived in squalor and degradation. It’s what drove him on to pillory the idle rich.’
‘In fairness, some of them are far from idle.’
‘Yes, that’s true,’ she conceded, ‘they’re too busy making more money and seeking power over the rest of us. Leo wanted to call the series the Parliament of Fools but thought that it was too close to that poem by Chaucer, ‘Parliament of Fowls’. We scratched our heads for a long time before coming up with the title on which we settled. After all, the series is about the idiosyncrasies of politicians. Leo and Virgo mock their foibles.’
‘It’s an appropriate title for such astringent cartoons.’ Peter took a closer look at the print he was holding. ‘Do you happen to know how often Mr Harvester is in London?’
‘He spends most of his time here, by all accounts,’ she said, ‘and retires to the country for the winter. Virgo has drawn a good likeness of the mansion. He must obviously have seen it.’
‘I’d like to do so myself,’ he said. ‘Where exactly is it?’
‘I’ll take you there, Peter. It’s not far away. When you see the house, you’ll be overwhelmed by envy. Mr Harvester lives in a different world to us mere mortals.’
Abel Fearon was kept waiting for a long time. He began to wonder if he was in the wrong street. Yet it was where the previous meeting had taken place because it was a haven from the busier thoroughfares. He idled his time away by walking up and down and whistling tunelessly as he did so. The coach eventually veered into sight, drawn by four horses. Seeing Fearon, the driver hauled on the reins. When it came to a halt beside him, he removed his hat out of respect and opened the door of the vehicle. Beckoned inside, he sat opposite the sole passenger and pulled the door shut.
His companion was a middle-aged man in an impeccable suit and a hat with a tall, gleaming crown. Before he spoke, he removed a glove, plucked an enamelled box from his waistcoat pocket, flicked open the lid, took a pinch of snuff and inhaled it. While he was waiting, Fearon played with his hat and kept his head down. Putting the snuff box away, the man eventually deigned to look at him.
‘Well?’ he said.
‘I did as I was told, sir. I rode past the shop and threw a stone through the window. The glass was shattered.’
‘Was the woman there?’
‘I didn’t see her.’
‘What did you do next?’
‘I took the horse back to the stables I hired it from.’ He took out a stub of paper. ‘I have the receipt here.’
‘Throw it away.’
‘You told me to give it to you, sir. You said you’d give me fifty times the value of it for work well done.’
‘But your work was not well done, Fearon.’
‘Go to Holborn,’ urged the other. ‘See for yourself.’
‘There’s no need. I know you can be trusted to throw a stone through a window. My concern is with an area in which you can’t be trusted.’
Fearon was perplexed. ‘We’ve followed your orders to the letter, sir.’
‘Did you?’
‘Yes, we did.’
‘Then why will the Bow Street Runners be lying in wait for you this evening in Covent Garden?’ Fearon was startled. ‘I’ll tell you. It’s because you were stupid enough to draw attention to yourselves. My orders were to stay out of sight and wait until you were needed again. Instead of that, you and your greasy friend cause mayhem in a brothel run by Doll Fortune.’
‘We did no harm, sir.’
‘You did a lot of harm. You injured two of the women and got yourselves talked about. By extension, you’ve also wounded me and I take exception to that. I chose you and Higlett on the advice of someone at Newgate. They said that you were fearless and would do anything I ordered.’
‘We will, sir, I promise you.’
‘Then you must keep your breeches on and control your lust.’
‘Sim and I were only—’
‘I know what you were doing,’ said the other with asperity. ‘The money was burning a hole in your purses so you decided to spend it on pleasure. You couldn’t be discreet about it, though, could you? That would have been out of character. So you choose the most exclusive brothel in the city and behave like a pair of rutting stags.’
Fearon was cowed. ‘How do you know about it, sir?’
‘You admit it, then?’
‘We’d not had a woman for a long time.’
‘If you disobey orders again, I’ll make sure that you and Higlett will never be able to have a woman again.’ Fearon put a swift hand over his crotch. ‘How do I know about your disgusting antics? By chance, I’m a member of the same club as Mr Kirkwood. Does that name ring a bell?’
Fearon scowled. ‘He’s the chief magistrate. He sentenced me to prison.’
‘You’ll be sentenced to death if the Runners catch you. They were out watching Doll Fortune’s clients last night. Had you gone there a second time, you’d be in chains by now.’
‘Is this what Mr Kirkwood told you?’
‘It’s what I overheard him telling someone else. You can see why I took such an interest. I could guess who he was talking about – you and Higlett, two drunken idiots led astray by the twitching of their pricks.’
‘We wanted to celebrate, sir.’
‘Well, you won’t do it again,’ said the other, harshly. ‘You’ll lie low until I have further use for you. Disobey me again and you’ll wish you stayed in Newgate. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir, I do. I’m sorry, sir – we both are.’
‘Get out of the carriage.’
Fearon held up the stub. ‘What about this receipt?’
‘It’s worthless.’
‘But you promised to pay me, sir.’
‘You promised to do what you’re told.’
‘Don’t I get any reward?’
‘You’ve had it.’
‘Have I?’
‘Yes,’ snarled the other. ‘You and that halfwit are still alive.’
Fearon was shaken. ‘Are you telling me that …?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m telling you, man.’
‘We won’t let you down again, sir. I swear it. And Sim will swear it as well. Give us a chance to prove our worth, sir. That’s all we ask.’
‘Get out of the coach.’
‘I promise you that—’
‘Get out!’ roared the other. ‘And leave the door open when you do. I need some fresh
air in here to get rid of the stink.’
Paul Skillen was too impatient to wait until evening. Keen to find out if his trust in a one-legged old sailor had been misplaced, he set off for the tavern where they’d first met. Because he was not posing as a riverside habitué this time, there was no need for any disguise. He wore a light-blue coat with brass buttons and long tails, pantaloons strapped under the shoe, a dark-blue waistcoat, a frilled shirt and a large muslin cravat. On his previous search, he’d ended up at the Jolly Sailor. This time it was the first place he visited. To his delight, he saw the old man nursing a tankard in a corner. Paul went across at once and sat at the same table. The man was astonished to see such a debonair gentleman choosing to sit beside him.
‘What have you found out?’ asked Paul.
Legge was confused. ‘Who are you, sir?’
‘I asked you to make enquiries about Abel Fearon.’
‘Oh, I see … Bricklaying pays better than I thought.’
‘What did you discover?’
‘I asked lots and lots of people about Fearon.’
‘Did you find out where he is?’
‘No, sir,’ replied the other, ‘but I did learn something. I met a man who’d been in Newgate with the two of them.’
‘Two of them?’
‘They were devils, he said. Everyone was glad when they were let out.’
‘Are you talking about a friend of Fearon’s?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘It was Higlett, sir. Sim Higlett is just as bad as Fearon. That’s what I was told.’ He moved his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other. ‘I’m sorry, that’s all I can tell you.’
‘It’s a help,’ said Paul, slapping some coins on the table. ‘Thank you, my friend. We know who both of them are now.’
It was a mistake to let Diane Mandrake drive him there in her curricle. Peter would have been far safer in the saddle of his horse and he would have heard far fewer expletives on his journey. She drove as if she was trying to outrun a pack of highwaymen. He was grateful when they swung round a corner and she pulled on the reins. On the opposite side of the road was the mansion he’d seen in some of the prints. In reality, it was much bigger and more luxurious than he’d been led to believe. Set well back from the road, it had a semicircular drive. Julian Harvester owned one of the finest dwellings in London.
Steps to the Gallows Page 14