Steps to the Gallows (25 page)

When he reached the house, it was Meg who answered the door.

‘Oh, Mr Huckvale!’ she cried. ‘What a lovely surprise!’

‘There’s no need to be so formal. You know my name.’

‘Yes, I do, Jem. And you know mine.’

‘I know it very well.’ They shared a laugh.

‘Why are you here? Not that you need a reason,’ she went on, quickly. ‘You’re always welcome. That’s to say, it’s always a pleasure to see you.’

‘I’m here on an errand,’ he explained. ‘First, however, you must know that Mr Skillen and his brother have arrested the killers and they are now in custody.’

‘That’s wonderful news.’

‘As danger has now passed, Mrs Mandrake is going to collect all the stock that was left here in case there was another fire at the print shop. I thought that you should be warned she’s on her way.’

‘That’s very kind of you!’

‘I can lend a hand loading it.’

‘We can do it together.’

They grinned at each other until they heard the sound of a horse and curricle approaching at speed. Diane had come to collect her possessions. They didn’t mind the interruption in the least. The bond had already been formed.

Sir Humphrey Coote’s town house was in a tree-lined avenue in Mayfair. It was large without verging on the palatial and had a pleasing symmetry. Marble statuary stood either side on the portico. Since the nude females from antiquity were life-size, they were appropriate companions for the owner. Having tethered his horse, Peter rang the bell and waited for the front door to be opened by the butler.

‘May I help you, sir?’ asked the man, appraising him.

‘I’d like to speak with Sir Humphrey, please.’

‘The master is not at home.’

‘Can you tell me when he’s likely to return?’

‘I’m afraid that I can’t, sir. However, if you’d like to leave a message, I’ll make sure that he gets it.’

‘I need to see him in person,’ said Peter, forcefully.

‘That won’t be possible for some time.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Sir Humphrey has gone away for an indefinite period.’

‘Has he returned to his home in the country?’ The butler shook his head. ‘Then where
has
he gone?’

‘I’m not at liberty to tell you, sir.’

Tall, stout and aloof, the butler tried to close the door in his face. Peter was quick to put a foot in the way. He gave the man a challenging stare.

‘A choice confronts you,’ he said, icily. ‘I am involved in a murder enquiry that has the approval of the Home Secretary, so you can understand its importance. You can either tell me where your master is or, when you’ve been arrested – by force, if necessary – we can continue this discussion in front of a magistrate.’ He spread his arms interrogatively. ‘Which is it to be?’

Alfred Hale let him quaff half a pint of ale before daring to speak. They were at the Peacock Inn and Micah Yeomans was still trying to absorb the shock of being told that the Skillen brothers had made two significant arrests.

‘The worst of it is,’ he complained, ‘that Ruddock will get a letter of thanks from Kirkwood simply because he smelt smoke.’

‘He did so before anyone else,’ Hale reminded him.

‘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 pounced 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.’