Shadow of the Hangman (26 page)

‘It will be the end of my career!’ groaned Beyton before correcting himself quickly. ‘Mrs Horner’s predicament is far worse than mine, of course, and that should never be forgotten.’

‘Do exactly what you’re told, sir.’

‘Where will you be, Mr Skillen?’

‘It’s best if you don’t know.’

‘Why not?’

‘You won’t be tempted to look in my direction.’

‘That makes sense.’

‘Obey your orders, sir.’

Beyton was anxious. ‘But you will be nearby, won’t you?’

‘I won’t abandon you.’

‘And you still remain optimistic?’

‘Having seen the location they’ve chosen, I’m more than optimistic,’ said Peter with conviction. ‘It’s a part of London that I know extremely well. I’ll be at hand, I assure you and I’ll have assistance.’

‘From whom, may I ask?’

The question went unanswered.

Vincent Diamond and Jane Holstock rode along Park Lane in a trap and took note of the preparations being made in Hyde Park. Fences were being put up, platforms were being erected and hundreds of chairs were being unloaded from wagons. Tents and canopies were going up everywhere. Men were working into the evening to get everything ready for the forthcoming celebrations to mark the victory against Napoleon at the Battle of Waterloo.

‘We’ll take a stroll through the park tomorrow to get a closer look,’ said Diamond. ‘Everything seems well advanced.’

‘The Prince Regent will be pleased.’

‘He enjoys showing off and where better to flaunt than on an occasion like this when the eyes of London will be upon him?’

‘The Duke of Wellington will have pride of place, however.’

‘He’ll insist upon it, Jane. He, after all, is the conquering hero. That’s not what
I’d
call him, mark you,’ he said, darkly, ‘but it is how he’s perceived in England and, as we both know, perception is everything.’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’

He flicked the reins to draw a faster pace from the horse then turned to her.

‘What do you think Beyton will do?’ he asked.

‘I think we’ve brought him to heel this time, Vincent. We’ll get the money.’

‘We’ll ruin him if we don’t. Why on earth did he set his sights on someone like Mrs Horner?’ he asked in tones of disbelief. ‘It’s such a grotesque dalliance. Can you imagine the two of them together?’

‘I can’t imagine Beyton with
any
woman. He’s so unappealing.’

‘There’s a cruder word for it.’

‘I’d like to be there when they meet again,’ she said with relish. ‘If I’d had to undergo the privations that she’s suffering, I’d have a
few choice words to say to Mr Beyton, even if it meant that I’d lose my job.’

‘That’s not an issue, is it?’

‘I think that it might be.’

‘After all that’s happened,’ he said, ‘she won’t even consider going back to the Home Office, surely.’

‘Oh, I think that she will.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Well, a vacancy is about to occur, isn’t it?’

He went off into a peal of laughter and put an arm around her.

Ruth Levitt worked at twice her normal speed; cleaning each of the rooms in the order she’d set herself. The night watchman let himself into the Home Office at regular intervals to check that all was well before continuing his round of the other buildings in the vicinity. It meant that she knew exactly how much time she had at her disposal. When she’d dusted the last desk and emptied the last wastepaper basket, she hurried downstairs and went into the Home Secretary’s office. Placing the candelabrum on the desk, she took out a skeleton key and inserted it into the drawer. When it failed to engage with the lock, she jiggled it about as instructed and heard a satisfying click. The drawer now opened without resistance.

She knew exactly what she was looking for and did so as swiftly as she was able, sifting through a pile of documents until she came to one that had especial interest. Ruth had come prepared. Taking some paper from her bag, she put it on the desk then picked up the quill. She proceeded to copy something out in a neat hand. When that task was done, another remained and it required a second search through the documents. She soon found what she was after. There was far too much for her to copy out this time so
she made a series of notes instead, making sure that she included the pertinent details. She worked swiftly and with a sense of mounting excitement. Once her notes were finished, she put all the documents back in their original order and slipped them into the drawer before shutting it. The skeleton key worked instantly this time. She took the candelabrum into the hall, extinguished all but one candle then waited for the night watchman to arrive. Minutes later, he let himself in.

‘Have you finished, Mrs Levitt?’ he asked.

‘Yes, thank you. Mr Doggett.’

‘No problems to report?’

‘There are none at all.’

‘Then I bid you good night.’

‘Good night, Mr Doggett.’

He stood aside so that she could walk past him and out through the open door.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he called after her.

But she made no reply and, as she was swallowed up by the darkness, he could not see that she was smiling quietly to herself.

Anne Horner had gone through a whole range of emotions. The naked fear she’d felt during the abduction had changed to anger, moved on to indignation, settled briefly into a mood of defiance then declined slowly into a sense of hopelessness. She no longer even thought of release, still less of escape or even survival. There was simply no future to contemplate outside the narrow confines of the cellar. It was as if her mind had shrunk to the same dimensions as her little world. Except for the variation in the times of her meals, each day was the same. She ate, she moved about awkwardly, she sat in a state of utter boredom and she slept. She had even come to accept the basic sanitary arrangements as being the norm. Anne lacked the strength to protest and the pride to feel humiliation at her treatment.

It was Jane Holdstock who brought the meal that morning, setting down the tray in front of the prisoner. Her buoyancy came in sharp relief to the despair of the older woman.

‘Cheer up, Anne,’ she said. ‘Today might be a special one for you.’

‘Don’t taunt me.’

‘I am perfectly serious. If your friend behaves himself, you might see the last of this place.’

‘You said that before.’

‘He tried to deceive us,’ explained Jane, ‘and that was very silly. We’ve given him a second chance that is also his
last
chance.’ Anne gave no reaction. ‘There’s something that intrigues us. What attracted you to a man like that?’

‘Leave me alone.’

‘Or were you given no choice in the matter?’

Anne turned her head away. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘In effect,
he
put you in here and only he can get you out.’

‘Why do you have to hurt me so much?’ pleaded Anne. ‘Isn’t it enough to chain me up and keep me down here?’

‘It’s only for a certain length of time.’

‘You’re taunting me again.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘How would
you
like to be locked up?’ She rattled the chain. ‘How would you like to have this around your leg?’

Jane was annoyed. ‘I’m trying to help you,’ she said, irritably, ‘but you just don’t want to be helped, do you?’ She went back to the door. ‘Enjoy the meal. It may be your last in here.’

She walked out and slammed the bolt home. Anne sagged back into despair.

Tom O’Gara stood beside the bulwark and waited for his friend to surface. Moses Dagg had been for what he hoped would be a refreshing swim in the river but he was still weakened by the fight and not able to stay in there for long. Breaking the surface, he tossed his head then made for the ship. O’Gara threw the rope overboard and slowly hauled him back on deck. When he’d finally come
aboard, Dagg flopped down on his back. He was breathing heavily.

‘How do you feel, Moses?’

‘Half-dead.’

‘I hope you didn’t swallow any water. The Thames is an open sewer.’

‘I needed a swim, Tom. You should have come in with me.’

‘I’d rather stay here.’

Dagg could feel the warmth of the sun on his naked body slowly drying him off. After a couple of minutes, he made an effort to sit up and left a wet patch on the deck where his back had been. Having wallowed in the Thames, he’d been both cleansed and wearied. Though the injuries sustained during the fight still smarted a little, he felt less pain than before.

‘I want to go home, Tom,’ he said.

‘We both do.’

‘London is not the place for me. I could never settle here.’

‘We’re sailors. We can’t settle anywhere. We’re born to roam.’

‘How much longer must we stay?’

‘We’re here until we get satisfaction one way or the other,’ said O’Gara.

‘They’re still out looking for us. We’ve escaped from them twice now. We might not be so lucky the third time.’

‘It’s not luck, Moses; it’s a blend of skill and courage. We escaped from Dartmoor during a massacre. If the soldiers had been able to shoot straight, we’d have been killed. Dodging a few Runners is child’s play compared to that. Besides, we have Dermot on our side. He’ll look out for us.’

‘Why is he being so helpful?’

‘I’m his cousin.’

‘I think there’s more to it than that.’

‘There is,’ said O’Gara. ‘His father died in an English prison so
Dermot knows what it’s like to be caged. He only visited his father once. When he went there the second time, the prison doctor said that he’d died of smallpox. Dermot didn’t believe him. His father – my Uncle Harry, that is – was like you and me. He wouldn’t let anyone push him around. He’d have been a troublemaker in prison. It might have got him killed. That’s why my cousin has sympathy for us,’ he said. ‘We’re like my Uncle Harry. Now go and put some clothes on. Dermot will be here any moment.’

Hauling himself up, Dagg padded off towards the cabin, leaving his friend on deck. O’Gara looked down the river at a three-masted vessel that was making its way upstream towards him. The sight revived memories of his time in the navy and he longed to resume his life as a sailor. It was, however, an ambition that had to be set aside for the moment. The persistent yapping of a dog sent him to the other side of the deck and he looked down to see Fallon waiting to come aboard. He lowered the gangplank then stood aside as the dog raced past him. As soon as his cousin had stepped on deck, O’Gara pulled up the gangplank.

‘I’ve got bad news, Tom,’ said Fallon, waving a newspaper. ‘They’ve not delivered a verdict yet but it looks as if the commission has made up their mind.’

‘Did they read that account we sent them?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘That’s what actually happened, Dermot, word for word.’

‘It’s what you and Moses told them but you’re only two voices against a lot of others. The most important one is the governor’s. They were always likely to believe him instead of you.’

‘So what’s the decision?’

Fallon opened the newspaper. ‘This only says what they
think
will happen.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘Well, to start with, they call it a riot and not a massacre. Your name is mentioned as the person who started it.’

‘That’s a lie!’ shouted O’Gara, seizing the paper from him and reading it. ‘Justifiable homicide! Is that what they call it? Captain Shortland orders his men to fire on unarmed prisoners and it’s justifiable homicide?’

‘They’ve closed ranks against you, Tom.’

‘Didn’t they listen to
anything
we said?’

‘There’s worse to come,’ Fallon pointed out. ‘If you read to the end, you’ll see that the governor is not only cleared of any blame, he’s likely to win promotion.’

O’Gara was furious. ‘They’re going to reward him for inciting murder?’

Scrunching up the newspaper, he flung it to the deck and stamped on it in disgust, ridding himself of a torrent of bad language as he did so. Fallon waited until his cousin’s rage had cooled slightly.

‘You ought to read something else in there, Tom,’ he suggested. ‘It’s the details about those celebrations in Hyde Park. Viscount Sidmouth will be there.’

‘Then there’ll be another case of justifiable homicide!’ vowed O’Gara.

While he now had the money in his possession, David Beyton had had to endure another difficult meeting with the bank manager. The latter’s disapproval was put in forceful terms. Striking an episcopal pose, Holland had looked as if he was about to excommunicate his client. Beyton closed his ears to the criticism. All that he could think about was what lay ahead. Grosvenor Square was within walking distance of the bank but, when he set out, he suddenly felt vulnerable.
Peter Skillen had accompanied him to the first exchange and given him a sense of security. That no longer existed. Carrying a large amount of money in a leather pouch, he felt that the eyes of every thief in London were upon him and that he might be robbed before he even reached his destination. The consequences would be momentous. Anne Horner’s life would be imperilled, Beyton’s adultery would be made known to his wife and nearly all of their capital would disappear. His brisk walk suddenly became an undignified trot.

When he got to Grosvenor Square, he slowed down and tried to regain some poise. His instructions were to walk around the perimeter of the square until someone intercepted him. His head darted in all directions, searching for Peter Skillen as well as for the person who’d relieve him of the ransom. After walking around all four sides of the square, he began to wonder if he’d mistaken the instructions. Nobody came and there was no sense that anybody was watching him. A few pedestrians strolled past him and there was the occasional carriage and rumbling wagon. Beyton started a second peregrination but this, too, yielded no result. Losing his nerve, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. The long wait was agonising. Were they deliberately making him suffer?

It happened so fast that he was left in a state of confusion. A gig came round a corner at speed then the horse slid to a halt beside him. The driver leapt out to seize the bag from him then jumped back into the gig, snapping the reins to set the animal in motion again. When the vehicle disappeared around a corner, all that Beyton could hear was the rasping echo of its wheels.

It was over as quickly as that.

With the aid of a telescope, Peter Skillen had watched it all from the window of a house on a corner. Running into the square, he waved
his arms and the signal brought another gig into view. It was driven by Jem Huckvale with Charlotte Skillen by his side. Peter indicated the direction in which the first vehicle had gone and the other one went in pursuit. Beyton ran across the square to Peter.

‘Why didn’t you stop him?’ he demanded.

‘We want to catch both of them, sir, and we needed the man to think that you’d obeyed his orders. My wife is following him.’

‘With respect to Mrs Skillen, what use is a woman in this situation?’

‘She’s there to allay suspicion, sir. Had
I
been trailing the kidnapper, he’d know that I was after him because he’s seen me before. If he looks over his shoulder now, he’ll think he sees a lady being driven by a servant. But you must excuse me,’ he went on. ‘We don’t want them to get too far ahead.’

At that moment, Paul Skillen rode into the square with another horse in tow. When the two animals clattered to a halt, Peter was in the saddle at once. He and his brother set off together at a steady canter, leaving an open-mouthed Beyton staring after the twins in wonderment.

Huckvale was a skilful driver. Keeping the other gig in sight, he stayed well behind it so that he didn’t attract attention. When other vehicles got between him and the gig he was pursuing, however, his vision was obscured and he was forced to reduce speed. He thought he saw the vehicle turn into a side street but he couldn’t be sure. When he drove down the same narrow thoroughfare, he saw that the street was empty. Annoyed with himself, he pulled the horse to a halt.

‘We’ve lost them,’ he sighed.

‘They definitely came into this street,’ said Charlotte. ‘Perhaps they turned left at the far end. Go on slowly, Jem.’

Before he could drive on, Huckvale heard the sound of horses behind him. Peter and Paul trotted up to the trap.

‘Where are they?’ asked Peter.

‘We don’t know,’ admitted Huckvale.

‘They must have turned left off this street,’ said Charlotte.

‘Then we’re in luck,’ said Paul.

‘Why?’

‘I know it. It’s a cul-de-sac.’ He dismounted. ‘Let’s go on foot. Jem can look after the horses. If we go galloping up the street, we’ll give the game away.’

The first thing that Vincent Diamond did as he entered the house was to hold up the bag like a trophy. Jane Holdstock threw her arms around him and kissed him. Then the money was emptied onto the table and they gloated, each picking up a handful of banknotes and letting them cascade down again.

‘This will make our work much easier,’ said Diamond. ‘With this amount of money at our disposal, we can bribe almost anyone.’

‘Beyton obviously did as we instructed.’

‘There was no sign of anyone else in Grosvenor Square. When we’ve moved to the other house, we’ll send him word of where the prisoner is being held then he can come and release her.’

She laughed. ‘That will be a touching reunion. I’ll be sorry to miss it.’

‘What I’ll miss is seeing Beyton’s face when he realises that his indiscretions led to far more than a mere demand for money. In fact …’

He broke off. Standing beside the front window, he’d seen movement on the opposite side of the street. When he peered through the glass, he tensed.

‘We’ve got to go,’ he said, decisively.

‘Why?’

‘I was followed, after all. The man out there is the one we saw with Beyton in Hyde Park. That fool has double-crossed us. Quick – out through the back door.’

‘But we can’t just leave everything, Vincent.’

‘Run, woman!’

Gathering up handfuls of money, he stuffed them into the bag then led the way to the back of the house. A few seconds later, Peter Skillen crossed the street and looked in through the front window.

Paul Skillen, meanwhile, had worked his way round to the gate at the rear of the garden. When he tried to open it, he found that it was locked. The next moment, he heard hurried footsteps coming down the garden and stood back in readiness. The door was unbolted then opened and two figures appeared. Paul accosted them and told them that they were under arrest. The man was startled; unable to believe that the person he’d just seen in the street was now in the lane at the rear of the house. It seemed impossible. He recovered quickly. When he tried to push past, Paul grappled with him, knocking the bag from his arms and sending banknotes all over the ground. The fight was short-lived because Jane was armed. Taking a pistol from inside her coat, she knocked off Paul’s hat then used the butt of the weapon to strike the back of his skull. The blow was enough to daze him. Diamond threw him against the garden wall and Paul’s head struck the hard stone, knocking him unconscious at once.

Jane bent down to gather up the money but Diamond pulled her away.