Old friends were the best kind in Hannah’s opinion. It was one of the main reasons that she’d retained Jenny Pye as her dresser over the years. A short, plump woman in her forties with a fierce loyalty and a capacity for adapting quickly to any situation, Jenny was much more than the person who helped her to change in and out of her costumes. She was a friend, helpmeet, hairdresser, counsellor and, on occasion, even acted as a kind of bodyguard. What Hannah liked about her was her defiant Englishness. Though they were in the French capital, Jenny had categorically refused to learn a single word of the language.
‘The house is full yet again, Miss Granville,’ she said.
‘That’s very gratifying.’
‘It’s a tribute to your talent. Paris is at your feet.’
‘Yes,’ said Hannah, ‘it’s strange, isn’t it? I portray a villainous woman who urges her husband to kill a king and the audiences applaud me for it. There must be a deeply engrained hatred of royalty in the French public. On the other hand,’ she went on, thoughtfully, ‘Macbeth wants to kill Duncan in order to replace him, so Scotland won’t actually get rid of a king. They’ll simply have a new one on the throne.’
‘You know how to enslave an audience,’ said Jenny, combing Hannah’s hair. ‘It’s the same with whatever part you play.’
‘Lady Macbeth is a monster.’
‘Yes, but you make her a lovable monster.’
They were in the dressing room two hours before the performance. Hannah was a tall, slim, lithe young woman with a natural grace and an arresting beauty. She liked to get to the theatre early so that she had plenty of time to rehearse her major speeches before going onstage to deliver them. Audiences had been kind to her and critics had been, for the most part, extremely complimentary but her stay in Paris was not entirely without its problems.
‘Will he be in the audience again tonight?’ she asked.
‘He’ll follow you wherever you go, Miss Granville.’
‘You make him sound like a dog, not a gentleman of distinction.’
‘A gentleman wouldn’t badger you the way that he does.’
‘He doesn’t exactly badger me, Jenny. He just wishes to worship from afar and turn this place into a perfumed garden for me.’ She indicated the baskets of flowers that surrounded her. ‘I don’t feel threatened by him in any way. Unlike so many of the others, he’s very benign. However, while admiration is always pleasing, a superfluity of it can get very tiresome.’
‘You could easily get him forbidden entry to the theatre.’
‘That would be cruel.’
‘It would save you the trouble of worrying about him.’
‘I don’t really worry,’ said Hannah. ‘I’m just very much aware of his presence, that’s all. In his letter, he told me that he sees himself as my guardian angel.’
Jenny rolled her eyes but held her peace. In her opinion, amorous Frenchmen were all the same. They needed to be watched carefully and kept firmly at bay.
‘We won’t be here much longer, Miss Granville.’
‘That’s what I keep telling myself.’
‘You’ll soon be playing Lady Macbeth in London,’ said Jenny, adding a last deft touch with the comb. ‘And it won’t be in this heathen language.’
Hannah laughed. ‘The magic of France has clearly failed to work on you.’
‘I want to be back in my own country.’
‘And so do I, Jenny – though it’s not only for the pleasure of portraying Lady Macbeth in the words that Shakespeare actually wrote for her. I have a much greater need to return to London.’ She sat back with a sigh. ‘Somebody very dear and wonderful is awaiting me.’
They picked up his trail at once. When they stopped at the inn to change horses, they learnt that a coach had called there earlier in the day and that its occupant had been so eager to get to Dover that he didn’t even alight for refreshment. Peter and Paul Skillen rode on with fresh mounts. Having seen it when it arrived at the cricket match, Paul was able to describe Sir Humphrey’s coach in detail. Every time they broke their journey, they found someone who had noticed the vehicle and who could give them an idea of the precise time when it had been there.
‘He’s hours ahead of us, Peter,’ complained his brother.
‘He may well be at sea by now.’
‘I was hoping to catch him before he embarked.’
‘There’s no chance of doing that. Besides,’ said Peter with a grin, ‘do you really want to miss the opportunity of going to Paris?’
‘No, I don’t. Whatever happens, I must see Hannah.’
‘His butler told me that Sir Humphrey had friends in the city. He’ll seek sanctuary there so it may be difficult to find him.’
‘We don’t need to find him, Peter.’
‘Why not?’
‘Hannah will do that for us,’ explained Paul. ‘When Sir Humphrey reaches the city, he’ll think that he’s perfectly safe. It won’t cross his evil mind that we’re on his heels. He’ll want to revel in the joys of Paris and – amongst other things – that means going to the theatre. Which play do you think he’ll choose first?’
‘It will be the one in which Miss Hannah Granville is appearing.’
‘That’s right. Unbeknownst to her, Lady Macbeth is our bait. It’s only a matter of time before Sir Humphrey arrives to gloat over her. That’s when we strike.’
Virgil Paige had been astonished when his unexpected visitor had popped up and he was not altogether pleased at first. He felt that his privacy had been invaded. Diane Mandrake’s warmth and amiability soon dispelled his reservations and he began to enjoy her company. Since he was now able to go outside the King’s Bench again, they adjourned to a tavern and got to know each other better over some refreshment.
‘I still can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘In all the years I knew Leo, he never once mentioned that he had a brother.’
‘That was on my instruction. I liked to be anonymous.’
‘Why?’
‘After a lifetime of service in the army, I sought peace and isolation.’
Her eyes twinkled. ‘You don’t look like a man with monkish inclinations.’
‘I’m not,’ he agreed with a chuckle. ‘I’ve always found the devil a more appealing deity. Drawing cartoons as Virgo gave me the chance to take on the role of a demon and cause mischief.’
‘There was a lot of demon in Leo as well.’
‘We worked well together. When it came to politicians, my brother and I thought and felt alike. Those who abuse their power should be exposed and flayed in public. The Parliament of Foibles was Leo’s creation.’
‘It was a brilliant concept that cost him his life.’
‘I came close to paying the same price, Mrs Mandrake.’
Sipping her drink, she sat back to scrutinise him. Physically, he looked very different to his brother but his voice and demeanour were the same. He also shared his brother’s passion and she liked him for that.
‘Do you really want to spend your life in a debtor’s prison?’ she asked.
‘It has its compensations.’
‘I didn’t notice any of them.’
‘Oh, they are there, believe me.’
‘Will you be able to continue your work there?’
‘There’s no point,’ he said, sadly. ‘Apart from anything else, my materials were stolen. I’m unable to draw or engrave. Virgo no longer exists.’
‘He could do.’
‘No, Mrs Mandrake. Without Leo, I’m useless. He supplied the clever ideas and the wicked words. They’re beyond me.’
‘I can’t believe that.’
‘I’m a self-taught artist who knows his limitations.’
‘Will you let Virgo’s work perish when he has such a following?’
‘I have no choice.’
‘What’s happened to the demon you enjoyed being?’ she taunted.
‘He’s lost his inspiration.’
‘I’ve an idea how it can be revived.’
‘N
ot without Leo – he supplied the fuel over which we could roast the political ogres who exploit us. When I drew a cartoon, I loved the smell of burning flesh that drifted into my nostrils.’
‘You could inhale that aroma again, Mr Paige.’
‘I think not.’
‘Hear me out,’ she said, leaning forward. ‘I have an idea to put to you and it may just help to change your mind …’
They had not stayed long at the print shop. Allowed to look through the entire stock, the Runners quickly identified the main targets of Virgo’s mordant satire. By the time they left, they’d settled on the same quartet chosen by Peter and Paul Skillen.
‘It has to be one of them,’ decided Yeomans.
‘Yes,’ said Hale, ‘but which one is it, Micah?’
‘I fancy that it has to be Gerard Brunt.’
‘Julian Harvester seems the more likely man to me.’
‘Let’s visit each in turn. We’ll start with Mr Brunt.’
‘Do you know his address?’
‘I know how to find it.’
Hale fell in beside him and they set off at a demanding pace.
‘Is it true what Mrs Mandrake said?’ asked Hale. ‘Did you really try to buy one of the caricatures from her?’
‘Of course not,’ growled Yeomans. ‘Why would I possibly want one?’
‘She seemed very certain about it.’
‘Diane – Mrs Mandrake to you – was confusing me with someone else. Let’s think about Gerard Brunt, shall we? In some of those cartoons we saw, he was turned into a laughing stock. How did he react to that …?’
He was there as usual. Seated in the same box, he rose to his feet and clapped his hands as Hannah came out onstage to acknowledge the ovation. English voices joined with those of the French to acclaim her performance. The audience was even rowdier than the one she usually faced in London but the man who’d elected himself as her guardian angel didn’t join in the raucous shouting. Short, compact, spruce and well into his sixties, he cut a dignified figure. When Hannah turned to look at him, he gave her a paternal smile.
It was not the last she saw of him. Leaving a theatre often posed a problem for a leading lady, especially for one as gorgeous and blessed with histrionic talent as Hannah. There was usually a large cluster of men at the stage door, ready to press their suits by offering her all manner of blandishments. Since Paul Skillen had come into her life, the problem had been more or less eliminated because he was always there to shepherd her past the waiting mob. Having no such protection now, she had to rely on her dresser and left the theatre on Jenny’s arm. Ardent admirers pushed forward to get a look at her or even to brush against her body. They buzzed around her like so many bees and Hannah found it distressing. Aid, however, was at hand.
‘Silence, messieurs!’ yelled a voice. ‘Silence, s’il vous plaît!’
Quelled by the rasping authority in the command, the noise died instantly and the crowd parted to let Hannah and her dresser through. She was able to see her saviour and recognised him as the dapper Frenchman with an aristocratic bearing who’d attended every performance of the play. He was using his silver-topped cane to hold back her admirers so that the women could reach the carriage waiting for them.
‘Bravo, mademoiselle!’ he said, doffing his hat as she went past.
‘Merci,’ she replied. ‘Merci, mon ange.’
Arriving at last at Dover, they discovered just how far ahead of them their quarry was. Paul Skillen was disappointed.
‘His ship left hours ago,’ he said. ‘He’s probably halfway to France by now. That’s maddening.’
‘It’s an irritation,’ said Peter, ‘but no more than that. After a hectic rush to the coast and a voyage across the Channel, he’ll be fatigued. Sir Humphrey will have need of a rest. If we can sail soon, we’ll make up ground on him.’
‘The next packet won’t be ready for some time.’
‘Then we take our ease here.’
‘I won’t be able to relax until I see Hannah again.’
Standing on the quayside, they felt the wind freshening enough to pluck at their clothes and threaten to lift off their hats. The gallop to Dover had given the brothers little time for conversation. Peter was glad that they had time for reflection.
‘I’ve always wanted to take Charlotte to Paris,’ he said.
‘Why haven’t you done so?’
‘We’ve always been too busy. London has first claim on my attention and it’s the capital city of crime. That’s not a complaint, by the way. I’m proud of the work we do and grateful that it brings in handsome rewards.’
‘How much will we get for the capture of Sir Humphrey Coote?’
‘Don’t count our chickens, Paul …’
‘There’s no way he can escape us.’
‘I can think of lots of ways. To start with, he may have powerful friends in France who’ll help him to resist extradition. Then again, he may have a small army on whom he can call. There are only the two of us.’
‘We’ll take him back to England somehow.’
‘I will, anyway,’ said Peter. ‘You might wish to linger in France to improve your knowledge of Shakespeare’s Macbeth.’
Paul was derogatory. ‘Not if the whole thing is in French.’
‘You’ll get a stirring drama and an education rolled into one. And don’t look down on our erstwhile enemies. France has a culture that can rival any in the civilised world. Granted, they may not have a Shakespeare but they’ve produced notable playwrights, authors, artists and composers galore.’
‘I’ll take your word for it, Peter.’ He turned to his brother. ‘Are you looking forward to going back there after all this time?’
‘Very much – it will be a change to walk through the streets of Paris without having to dodge patrols. The countryside around the city is beautiful, as you’ll see for yourself.’
‘I won’t be looking. All I’m interested in is seeing Hannah and arresting the man who plotted the murder of Mr Paige and his brother. He needs to be dragged back to England for an appointment with the hangman.’
‘They use the guillotine in France. It’s far quicker.’
‘Hanging is better. It draws out the suffering, and those men – Fearon and Higlett – deserve to suffer. So does Sir Humphrey.’
‘There’s no need to be so vindictive, Paul. I pity anyone who mounts the gallows in front of a howling mob. It’s a cruel way to die. As for France,’ continued Peter, ‘I predict that you’ll change your opinion of it when you’ve supped its splendours. You might even consider living there one day.’
‘That will never happen.’
‘How can you be so adamant?’
‘The French have one fatal defect, Peter – they don’t play cricket.’
It was very late when he finally climbed into bed but Micah Yeomans felt that his labours had been productive. Thanks to the names he’d gleaned from looking at caricatures in the print shop, he’d worked his way towards an important discovery. Meanwhile, he could luxuriate in dreams of Diane Mandrake. Early next morning, he went to court in order to deliver his report to the chief magistrate. Before he did so, he had to listen to some reports himself.
‘I was accosted at my club by Gerard Brunt,’ said Kirkwood, ‘and he didn’t mince his words. He complained that you called on him and more or less accused him of hiring men to kill Leonidas Paige.’
‘That’s not quite true, sir—’
‘I also had the same protest from Mr Harvester, who blamed me for sending two thugs – his actual description of you and Hale – to harass him in his own home. And there was a third outrage,’ he went on, waving a letter. ‘According to this, not content with enraging both Brunt and Harvester, you descended on Dr Penhallurick and challenged him to admit that he was part of a murder plot.’ He smacked the letter down on to the desk. ‘What, in the name of all that’s holy, have you been doing?’
‘Hale and I were making enquiries, sir.’
‘It sounds as
if you were deliberately trying to stain the reputation of the Bow Street Runners. Three persons of substantial influence have had cause to complain at your disrespectful treatment of them. Never – never, I say – make such allegations unless you have incontrovertible evidence to back them up.’
‘In the end,’ argued Yeomans, ‘our persistence yielded a dividend.’
‘Why – who else did you upset?’
‘The last person we called on was Sir Humphrey Coote.’
‘Dear God!’ cried the other. ‘I’ll have him on my back now.’
‘He’s gone to France.’
‘Did you frighten him that much?’
‘Please listen, sir. You’ll then understand.’
Yeomans explained that he and Hale had called in turn at the homes of three suspects they’d singled out. Each man was clearly innocent of any charge but the fourth was not. The circumstances of his departure suggested flight from arrest. Yeomans had bullied the truth out of the butler. His master had gone abroad.
‘It was Dr Penhallurick who confirmed it,’ said Yeomans. ‘He was furious that Sir Humphrey had asked a favour of the marshal of the King’s Bench while using the doctor’s name. His flight is a confession of guilt. In short, when Sir Humphrey is arrested, the whole investigation is over.’ He shuffled his feet. ‘There is, however, one problem,’ he admitted, sheepishly.
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