Steps to the Gallows

by Edward Marston

  ‘I’d have raised the alarm myself seconds later.’

  ‘A delay of a few seconds could have been fatal, Micah.’

  ‘I put that fire out yet Ruddock gets the credit.’

  ‘That’s not quite true. Mr Kirkwood congratulated you on the bravery and competence you showed. He just happened to think that Chevy Ruddock deserved some sort of acknowledgement.’

  ‘Why did you have to mention his blessed name to Kirkwood?’

  ‘You obviously forgot to do so, that’s why.’

  ‘I didn’t forget. He wasn’t really worthy of a mention.’

  ‘I disagree – and so did Mr Kirkwood. However,’ said Hale, moving on swiftly, ‘that’s irrelevant now. The fact is that the Skillen brothers caught the villains before we even had the slightest idea who they were. They won the first round but the contest is not yet over. If we win the second round, the real victory is ours.’

  ‘Well remembered, Alfred,’ said Yeomans, sitting upright. ‘The killers merely obeyed orders. Who gave them?’

  ‘It was someone who wanted Paige dead.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he’d either made fun of them in that newspaper of his or in that series called the Parliament of Foibles. You saw those prints in Mrs Mandrake’s window.’

  ‘I did,’ murmured the other.

  ‘Some of them were spiteful and malicious. Look at the one in which you appeared.’

  Yeomans tensed. ‘That was not me, I tell you.’

  ‘No, no, you’re right,’ said Hale with a smile of appeasement. ‘There’s no resemblance, especially since you had your eyebrows singed. It’s uncanny. You look like a new man, Micah.’

  ‘Forget me and concentrate. Who were Paige’s main targets?’

  Hale ran a hand across his chin. ‘Let me think …’

  ‘Mr Harvester popped up in quite a few of those prints. Everyone knows that he uses his money to influence decisions in Parliament. He has to be a suspect. And so does Gerard Brunt. He’s always sniffing around for favours from Cabinet members. Brunt and Harvester would be my choices.’

  ‘What do we do?’

  ‘We go and interview them right away.’

  ‘Supposing that neither of them is involved?’

  ‘Then we work our way through other likely names,’ said Yeomans, stirred into action and ignoring the rest of his ale. ‘We’ve got no time to sit in here, Alfred. The most important person in this whole affair has yet to be identified and arrested.’ He led the way to the door. ‘We have to get to him before those infernal twins do.’

  Gully Ackford found a moment between his appointments at the gallery to have a chat with Paul Skillen. He was astounded by the latter’s decision.

  ‘Paris!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Why ever do you want to go to Paris?’

  ‘Someone very dear to me is there, Gully.’

  ‘But the investigation is not over yet.’

  ‘It is for me,’ said Paul.

  ‘Don’t you want to be here when the man behind the murder is unmasked?’

  ‘I’d love to be but I’m needed in France.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Nothing has actually happened,’ confessed the other, ‘I just have this feeling that I’ve been sent for. I can’t refuse to go.’

  ‘Did Miss Granville actually beseech you?’

  ‘Well, no …’

  ‘Is she in some sort of jeopardy?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of …’

  ‘Then why are you leaving us in the lurch and going to Paris?’

  ‘I’ve told you,’ said Paul. ‘I have this feeling.’

  ‘I don’t know Miss Granville very well,’ said Ackford, levelly, ‘but she strikes me as the kind of lady who speaks in plain terms. If you were needed, she’d have called for you loud and clear. Yet that isn’t the case at all.’

  ‘Stop trying to talk me out of it, Gully.’

  ‘I’m simply asking you to see sense.’

  ‘In my position, you’d do exactly the same.’

  ‘That’s open to debate, I’m afraid. Unlike you, I’ve never been very lucky in love so I’ve no real experience of this sort of entanglement.’

  Paul jumped up. ‘It’s not an entanglement. It’s a commitment.’

  ‘The one leads to another.’

  ‘Will you please stop being so pig-headed?’

  Ackford confronted him. ‘I will – if you will.’

  There was a moment of tension that quickly disappeared. Realising that it was foolish of friends to bicker, they laughed. Peter Skillen entered the room in time to see them taking it in turns to apologise.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve just talked your brother out of going to France,’ said Ackford.

  ‘No, you haven’t,’ asserted Paul.

  ‘Well, I was getting very close to that point.’

  ‘My mind is made up, Gully, and nobody can change it.’ He looked at Peter. ‘I need to go to Paris and it’s not only because I’m missing Hannah. I feel as if I’ve been summoned. I’m sorry to leave you like this, Peter, but I’m confident that you can make the final arrest on your own.’

  ‘I’m sure that I can,’ said Peter.

  ‘What did the marshal say?’

  ‘Under duress, he admitted that someone did call at the prison yesterday to insist that Virgil Paige’s liberty be curtailed. The man in question, he told me, was Dr Penhallurick.’

  ‘I never thought that he was behind this,’ said Ackford.

  ‘Neither did I, Gully. I had favoured Mr Brunt. As it turned out, it was neither him nor the doctor.’

  ‘But you just told us that Penhallurick made sure that Virgil was kept inside the King’s Bench so that he could be easily got at.’

  ‘I was misled,’ explained Peter, ‘and so was the marshal. He was given a false name by the man who really devised the plot – Sir Humphrey Coote.’

  ‘So it was that old lecher all along,’ said Paul, grinning. ‘He’ll be hanged alongside the others. I’m just sorry I won’t be there when you arrest him.’

  ‘But you may well be at my side.’

  ‘I’ve just told you, Peter. I have to go to Paris.’

  ‘So have I. It took me some time to extract the information out of his butler but I succeeded in the end. Sir Humphrey left for France this very morning. Having caught wind of the arrest of Fearon and Higlett, he’s obviously decided to put the English Channel between himself and justice. His hope, I daresay,’ added Peter, ‘is that the danger will eventually blow over and he can return to England to watch cricket and indulge in his other favourite hobby.’

  Paul was stunned. ‘Sir Humphrey is going to Paris?’

  ‘According to his butler, he has friends there.’

  ‘You must both go after him,’ urged Ackford. ‘Your wish is granted Paul. Chance has contrived better than you could yourself. You now have a second good reason to go to France.’

  Paul was deaf to his comment. The words that he heard were spoken by Sir Humphrey about the woman he’d lusted after for a long time. Hannah Granville was in danger. The most degenerate man in London was on his way to Paris and Paul was not there to protect her from his overtures.

  ‘Let’s go, Peter,’ he declared. ‘Let’s go after that disgusting rake at once.’

  Sir Humphrey Coote was in luck. When he reached the port of Dover, he was just in time to board a small vessel about to set sail for France. The packet offered little in the way of comfort but he was not concerned about that. Since weather conditions were favourable, it would get him to Calais in five hours or so. Having shaken the dust of England from his feet, he’d escaped from any pursuit by those responsible for the arrest of his hired killers. He was safe. There was another reason why he was going to relish the voyage. On its journey from Calais to Dover, one of the passengers on the ship had bought a French newspaper and left it on board. Sir Humphrey pounc
ed on it to see what was happening in Paris. One of the first things that caught his eye was a glowing review of a production of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. A member of the cast was singled out for extravagant praise.

  Hannah Granville.

  It was a gift from the gods.

  Alfred Hale was still wary about approaching the print shop but Micah Yeomans led the way with a confident step. He had a legitimate reason to call there and a chance to meet Diane Mandrake again. That being the case, he was prepared to put up with any tart remarks from her. They arrived shortly after she and Benjamin Tite had finished unloading the boxes of cartoons from the curricle. Diane was pleased to see them for once because she could pour scorn on them.

  ‘You come, as usual, too late,’ she began. ‘The killers are already in custody.’

  Yeomans winced. ‘We crave a word with you, Mrs Mandrake.’

  ‘Let it be a short one. As you see, I have tradesmen to supervise and stock to put on display once the window is restored.’

  ‘It’s about your stock that we wish to speak.’

  ‘Two men may be caught,’ said Hale, ‘but there’s a third still at liberty and he’s the biggest villain of the three. We were about to confront the most likely suspects when we thought there might be a quicker way to identify the person we’re after. It’s highly likely that his name can be found somewhere among your caricatures.’

  Diane laughed. ‘You’ve realised that at last, have you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It was one of the first things that Peter Skillen suggested.’

  ‘Let’s keep him out of this,’ suggested Yeomans.

  ‘But he’s been at the very heart of the investigation.’

  ‘He had no authority to be involved, Mrs Mandrake.’

  ‘Oh yes, he did. He also had common sense and iron determination, two qualities that you so palpably lack. Between them, Peter and his brother have done far more than you and all your patrols to cleanse the city of crime.’

  Yeomans was stung. ‘Who saved the shop from being burnt down?’

  ‘You did, sir, and I’ve expressed my thanks more than once. I’ll not easily forget your precipitate action on that dreadful night – though I still hold that the greater share of gratitude should go to the man who first raised the alarm. His name has slipped my mind.’

  ‘It’s Chevy Ruddock,’ said Hale.

  ‘No need to bring him into this,’ complained Yeomans.

  ‘Give him his due, Micah.’

  ‘It was your behaviour after the fire that distressed me,’ said Diane. ‘I didn’t ask you to perambulate outside my shop all night, especially when I already had adequate protection inside the building in the shape of Peter Skillen. His is a soothing presence, Mr Yeomans, while yours is abrasive.’

  He was hurt. ‘That’s not by design, dear lady, I do assure you.’

  ‘You can be prickly at times,’ said Hale, before being nudged into silence.

  ‘The fault,’ said Yeomans, gently, ‘lies in the necessities of our profession. Since we deal with deep-dyed villains every day, we have perforce to develop a hardness that’s foreign to our true characters. Kind words and soft smiles are wasted on the rascals we encounter. Pain is the only language they understand.’

  ‘If that’s all you have to say to me,’ declared Diane, ‘I bid you farewell.’

  ‘But we need your help, Mrs Mandrake.’

  ‘Are you well versed in glazing?’

  ‘No, I’m not …’

  ‘Have you ever organised a window display?’

  ‘That, too, would be a novel undertaking.’

  ‘Then you are no use to me, I fear. I need a window to be repaired and my stock to be exhibited in it. People need to see that it’s a case of business as usual.’

  ‘Which cartoons arouse most interest?’ asked Hale.

  ‘Our best sales come from the Parliament of Foibles.’

  ‘I told you that should be our starting point, Micah.’

  ‘A politician instigating a murder?’ said Yeomans, dubiously. ‘No, it’s far too unlikely.’

  ‘You are wondrously ignorant of the ways of the world, sir,’ said Diane, crisply. ‘Politicians commit murder every time they draft legislation. They kill off our liberties, they smother us with taxes and they bore us to death with their empty rhetoric. That’s why I can always sell Virgo’s caricatures,’ she went on. ‘They prick self-important politicians until they explode like so many balloons.’

  ‘May we take a close look at your stock, please?’

  ‘No, Mr Yeomans – not unless you intend to buy some of it, that is.’

  ‘I couldn’t be caught in possession of anything satirical,’ he said, piously. ‘It would reflect badly on someone in my position.’

  ‘And yet you once tried to purchase a caricature from me.’

  ‘Did you, Micah?’ asked Hale. ‘You never told me that.’

  ‘It was actually featured Mr Yeomans.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember that one.’ He suffered a dig in the ribs this time. ‘But I didn’t recognise Mr Yeomans,’ he lied. ‘It was nothing at all like him. He’d never be seen herding harlots outside a brothel.’

  ‘Mrs Mandrake,’ said Yeomans, almost pleading, ‘it’s in your interests to help us. The man we want is the one who ordered the destruction of your property and, by extension, the death of your good self. Until he has been caught and convicted, you will never enjoy complete safety. All that we ask is a brief glance at your stock.’ He looked at the glaziers. ‘It would be folly to pay for new windows if someone is bent on burning your shop down. I would hate to lose you or your premises. Help us, dear lady, I implore you.’

  Diane was moved by the sincerity of his plea and by his simple logic. There was still a notional danger to her. The Runners might be a hindrance but there was no harm in letting them look through her prints.

  ‘Very well,’ she decided. ‘You may look your fill – and then depart.’

  Their preparations took time. They had to secure passports, pack their luggage, saddle their horses, give instructions to their respective servants and take their leave of everyone at the shooting gallery. Peter was sad to leave his wife in order to go to France again but it was unavoidable. Having identified the man behind murder, arson and attempted homicide, he wanted to be the person to arrest him. Paul was hoping to reserve that luxury for himself. As they cantered along the Dover Road, he stated his case.

  ‘Sir Humphrey is mine, Peter,’ he claimed. ‘I was the one who put up with his antics at the cricket match and who was forced to listen to his revolting suggestions with regard to Hannah.’

  ‘Yet I was the one who tore off his mask.’

  ‘You only see him as a despicable criminal.’

  ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘I view him as a threat to the woman I love.’

  ‘Someone as beautiful and self-possessed as Hannah is expert at keeping undesirable suitors at arm’s length.’

  ‘Sir Humphrey is no ordinary suitor,’ argued Paul. ‘What he can’t get by persuasion, he’ll take by other means. I heard him boasting about it.’

  ‘I still think that I should be the one to call him to account.’

  ‘You don’t even need to come to Paris.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I do,’ said Peter, laughing. ‘You have many talents, Paul, but you lack a real command of the French language and that’s going to be a necessity. You need an interpreter and a guide to the city of Paris. I’m the ideal choice in both roles.’

  Paul was grudging. ‘I accept that. Your time spent abroad as an agent gave you insights that I lack. But I still claim the right of arresting Sir Humphrey,’ he said.

  ‘It’s a question of which one of us gets to him first.’

  ‘So be it – we’ll make a competition out of it.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Peter. ‘When I catch him, you admit that I’m the better man.’

  ‘There’ll be nothing to admit,’ said Paul, laughing. ‘I have
more incentive to track him and more skill to corner him. I know the sort of man he is. That will give me an immediate advantage.’

  ‘Try saying that in French,’ suggested his brother. ‘By the time you’ve managed to do that, I’ll have Sir Humphrey well and truly under arrest.’

  Virgil Paige was glad to be back in King’s Bench Prison. Though his would-be assassins had been caught and his freedom of movement restored, he was still too cautious to venture outside. Having settled back into his room, he used Snapper to run errands for food or anything else he needed. Paige was reclining on his mattress when he heard the footsteps coming up the uncarpeted stairs and realised that two people were approaching. He got to his feet at once. There was a tap on the door. Snapper’s head appeared.

  ‘Ya gor a vis’ter,’ he announced.

  ‘Who is it?’

  The door swung open and Diane Mandrake sailed into the room.

  ‘Hello, Virgil,’ she said, beaming. ‘I thought that it was high time we met.’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The decisive Battle of Waterloo had brought France to its knees. The country was weakened, rudderless, demoralised and bereft of the dreams of glory that had inspired it to overthrow its monarchy and adopt a policy of military expansion. When the British army marched to Paris in the immediate aftermath of hostilities, they camped in the Bois de Boulogne. Once a beautiful and extensive garden, it became a wild, overgrown, pathless wood that resembled nothing so much as a swamp in places. The Prussians, who bivouacked nearby, added outright vandalism to neglect, cutting down the finest trees indiscriminately then burning groves to the ground. The city itself bore the scars of a long war and the crushing burden of defeat.

  Within a year, profound changes had taken place. Though unwelcome to many, the restoration of the Bourbon dynasty helped to rebuild and reinvigorate the nation’s capital. It began to recapture its reputation as the centre of European fashion and gaiety. Theatres flourished, restaurants abounded and visitors flocked in from other countries. Money, the essential lifeblood, was flowing freely once again.

  What had greeted Hannah Granville on her arrival there was a scene of sophisticated pleasure. Paris was once more pulsating with life. Like all major cities, it had its slums and its dark underbelly but its palaces, its civic buildings, its plethora of churches, its famous river and its long, wide, accommodating avenues were a sight to behold. Not having been there since she was a child, Hannah had been entranced. There was an unexpected delight. Her old governess, now in her eighties, was still alive. Though she could barely walk, Marie Boisseau had written to her former pupil to welcome her to the city and to offer her services should Hannah have any difficulty with the language. Well taught from a young age by a true Parisian, the actress felt more than able to portray Lady Macbeth in a French translation. What she did ask from her quondam governess was the pleasure of calling on her from time to time so that – liberated from the strain of rehearsals – she could reminisce about her childhood in a calmer atmosphere.