Steps to the Gallows Read online

  ‘And then he set fire to the place?’

  ‘He obviously wanted to destroy Mr Paige’s papers. Among them, I suspect, were early designs for his next drawings.’

  ‘Leo was no artist, Mr Skillen. He just provided the words.’

  ‘Then who drew those exquisite caricatures?’

  ‘I wish I knew. Leo refused to tell me.’

  ‘Didn’t you find that odd?’

  ‘I’m used to oddities and eccentricities in this business,’ she explained. ‘If an artist wishes to remain anonymous, I accept that. All that concerned me was that the cartoons were drawn, engraved and embellished with Leo’s venomous pen. I sold the prints on Leo’s behalf. The Parliament of Foibles was very popular.’

  ‘The prints were signed by Virgo,’ he observed. ‘I thought that the name had been devised by Mr Paige. Virgo is the sign of the zodiac that comes after Leo. You must have noticed that.’

  ‘I taxed him with it once, Mr Skillen, but he brushed my questions aside. The mystery remains. To this day, I have no idea who Virgo is.’

  ‘You may do so very soon, Mrs Mandrake.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘He’s bound to become aware of his partner’s death. If he wishes to continue selling prints to you, he will have to reveal his identity.’

  ‘I never thought of that.’

  ‘When he does, I’d be grateful if you’d send word to me at once. Someone who worked hand in glove with Mr Paige will know a great deal about him. He might be able to point us in the direction of his partner’s enemies.’

  ‘I can do that,’ she said, confidently. ‘You simply have to visit the Houses of Parliament. I dare swear that several of its self-seeking denizens had a good reason to see Leo silenced.’

  ‘How many of them would condone murder?’

  ‘That depends on how thin their skins are. Some people can brush off ridicule like specks of dust on their sleeve, but it cuts deeper with others and pushes them to extremes. Study the prints that Leo worked on. Somewhere among them is the man who ordered his death.’

  ‘What about his newspaper? That, too, outraged many people.’

  ‘Paige’s Chronicle was a masterpiece,’ she said, chortling. ‘Its principal targets were scheming politicians and corrupt clergy. Leo held their feet to the fire good and proper. The Stamp Act was created to kill off newspapers like his.’

  ‘How often was it published?’

  ‘Once a week, as a rule.’

  ‘I don’t suppose that you have a copy, by any chance.’

  ‘I have every copy, Mr Skillen,’ she said, proudly. ‘I sometimes take one to bed with me. Leo’s prose is a joy. I never tire of reading it.’

  ‘May I see the collection?’ asked Peter.

  ‘I’ll insist upon it. I’ll also insist on paying for Leo’s funeral. He caused me endless trouble over the years, especially when he lodged above the shop for a while, but I loved him nevertheless. Everything I have is at your disposal,’ she continued, looking deep into his eyes. ‘I intend to be involved directly in the hunt for the killer. Don’t consider me to be the mere owner of a print shop. I am made of sterner stuff than that. What you see before you, Mr Skillen,’ she announced, arms spread wide, ‘is your willing confederate.’

  Peter wondered why the offer made him feel distinctly uneasy.

  Though he had a wife and six children, Eldon Kirkwood had little time for family life. Since his appointment as chief magistrate, he was rarely at home during a long day. Dedicated to his work, he was prepared to labour all hours and he expected others to do the same. When the Runners stood before him, therefore, they didn’t dare to yawn or show any sign of fatigue. If they did so, they knew that they’d be subjected to his scorn.

  Yeomans delivered his report and Hale contributed the occasional remark. Standing before him, they were anxious to get out of Kirkwood’s office as soon as possible so that they could repair to the Peacock Inn, their favourite establishment. After a session with the chief magistrate, they always felt in need of a reviving pint of ale. Kirkwood, by contrast, never touched alcoholic liquor and was always preaching the virtues of temperance. It only served to increase their respective thirst for a drink.

  Delivered ponderously, the report was short and halting. When Yeomans had finished, he gave a sigh of relief. Kirkwood raised a reproachful eyebrow.

  ‘Your report is woefully deficient in evidence,’ he said.

  ‘We’ve not really had time to gather it yet, sir,’ argued Yeomans. ‘It was not for want of trying. We spoke to all of the neighbours.’

  ‘Nobody saw anything untoward,’ added Hale.

  Kirkwood was sarcastic. ‘Murder and arson are committed under their noses yet they were completely unaware of the perpetrator? Are they all blind and deaf?’

  ‘They were frightened.’

  ‘Alfred is right, sir,’ said Yeomans. ‘If they did see or hear anything, they’re too scared to admit it in case it brings the wrath of the killer down on their head. It’s a common problem in the wake of a felony. People, in the main, don’t come forward as witnesses. They’re afraid that they’ll have to appear in court.’

  ‘But the villains will have been apprehended at that stage,’ said Kirkwood.

  ‘Villains always have villainous friends, sir. They seek retribution. Naked fear keeps the mouths of many witnesses firmly shut.’

  ‘There must be a way to open them.’

  ‘We could only do that by offering them protection, sir. That’s why some witnesses are struck dumb.’

  ‘How do you break through this conspiracy of silence?’

  ‘It takes time and patience.’

  ‘We don’t have unlimited quantities of either, Yeomans. I want results now. Some very important people live in Bloomsbury and they take offence at what happened in their midst. Intense pressure has already been put on me. Early arrests are demanded.’

  ‘We’ll be as quick as we can, sir.’

  ‘There is another avenue to explore,’ suggested Hale. ‘We happened upon the shop where Mr Paige’s prints were sold. It may be that the owner will be able to help us by disclosing the names of Mr Paige’s known enemies.’

  ‘I’d already intended to do that,’ said Yeomans, shooting him a hostile glance. ‘We will take every step needed to solve this murder.’

  Kirkwood stroked his beard. ‘What manner of man was Paige?’

  ‘The landlord said that he was secretive, sir.’

  ‘He might have been secretive about his private life but his excursions into the public domain were the very opposite. He did all he could to get attention and always at the expense of his latest victim.’

  ‘That may explain why he tried to cover his tracks,’ opined Yeomans. ‘Having raised a hullaballoo, Paige felt the need to sneak off and hide. Somebody eventually tracked him to his lair.’

  ‘Your task is to find that somebody,’ said Kirkwood. ‘Many eyes are upon you. Bear that in mind at all times.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Of course, sir,’ said Hale.

  ‘Will that be all, sir?’

  ‘No, it is not. You might care to know that a substantial reward has been offered. You both know what that means.’

  ‘Others will be tempted to join in the search,’ said Yeomans.

  ‘People like the Skillen brothers,’ said Kirkwood. ‘I don’t want them putting you in the shade yet again. This is an investigation for the Bow Street Runners and not for bold but misguided amateurs like Peter and Paul Skillen. Their one desire is to get their hands on that reward money.’

  ‘To be fair, sir,’ said Hale, ‘they have another reason to take an interest in this case. Paige’s death was not the only crime committed. Jem Huckvale, who works with the two brothers, was badly injured in a violent attack linked to the murder.’

  ‘That’s immaterial,’ scoffed Yeomans.

  ‘I don’t think so, Micah.’

  ‘Keep your opinions to yourself.’

 
‘Hale makes an important point,’ conceded Kirkwood. ‘I knew nothing of this secondary crime. How can we be certain that it has a bearing on the murder?’

  ‘Huckvale was acting as Mr Paige’s bodyguard at the time,’ said Hale. ‘That’s what we were told by Peter Skillen.’ He scratched his head. ‘Or was it Paul?’

  ‘You’ve interviewed the brothers, then?’

  ‘We visited the shooting gallery earlier, sir.’

  ‘It was not a social call, sir,’ Yeomans stressed. ‘We went to find out what they actually knew of the crimes and to warn them that it was not their place to try to solve them.’ He inhaled deeply through his nose. ‘By asserting my authority, I’ve frightened them off from any involvement whatsoever in this case. I think it’s safe to say – and Alfred will support this judgement – that there will be no more trouble from the Skillen family.’

  Kirkwood’s eyes shifted to Hale. ‘Do you agree?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said the other. ‘They have been well and truly muzzled.’

  It was not often that Charlotte had the two brothers at the house. She was delighted, therefore, to share a meal with them. Though Peter and Paul worked in harness, they rarely spent any leisure time in each other’s company. Their inclinations took them in opposite directions. Even when Paul’s friendship with Hannah Granville developed into a real commitment on both sides, Charlotte saw little of her brother-in-law. As the three of them sat over the remains of the meal, she reflected on what an appealing man he was. It was not because she had any regrets about marrying Peter. Life with him was far happier and steadier than it would have been with Paul. Both of them had courted her simultaneously and it had inevitably caused difficulties. To the naked eye, they were indistinguishable. In terms of their character, however, she’d very quickly learnt to tell them apart and it had helped her to make the crucial choice between them.

  ‘Tell us more about Mrs Mandrake,’ urged Paul.

  ‘I’ve told you everything,’ said Peter.

  ‘That’s not true. All we’ve heard is what she recalled about Paige. You said nothing about the lady herself. What sort of woman is she – young, old, serene, combative, rich, poor?’

  ‘Mrs Mandrake is clearly very resourceful, Paul. She’s run a profitable business in Middle Row for a decade and – while not wealthy, perhaps – she is very far from being poor.’

  ‘Paul asked about her age,’ said Charlotte.

  ‘He’ll have to meet her to determine that, my love. I take her to be older than any of us but younger than Gully. As for serenity, it’s not a characteristic that could ever be associated with her. I sensed a combative streak.’

  ‘Is there a Mr Mandrake?’

  ‘There must have been at some stage, Charlotte, but there’s no sign of him now. What happened to him, I know not. I didn’t go to the shop to enquire into her personal circumstances.’

  ‘I’d like to meet her,’ said Paul.

  ‘You won’t be able to avoid doing so.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘She’s appointed herself as our assistant in the hunt.’

  Paul was sceptical. ‘Can a woman be of any use in an investigation?’

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Charlotte with mock indignation. ‘In addition to working at the gallery and keeping the records, I like to think that I’ve helped to solve more than one crime.’

  ‘Indeed, you have, Charlotte,’ he agreed, readily. ‘Your contribution has been invaluable and I apologise for not acknowledging it. The fact is that you are an extraordinary woman.’

  ‘So is Mrs Mandrake in her own way,’ said Peter. ‘In lending me those copies of Paige’s Chronicle, she’s already given us an advantage over the Runners. They could be a veritable gold mine.’ There was a tap on the door, then Meg Rooke popped her head in to see if she should clear the table. Peter gave her a nod then addressed the others. ‘Why don’t we adjourn to the other room and start reading through them?’

  ‘That’s a splendid idea,’ said his wife, rising from the table.

  The three of them went into the drawing room where a pile of newspapers stood on a small table. Printed on perilously thin paper, most of them consisted of a single page that was filled on both sides. Handing one each to his wife and brother, Peter picked up a copy of his own and settled into a chair. He was soon laughing.

  ‘The fellow had a wickedly entertaining pen,’ he said with approval. ‘He’s using it to hilarious effect on a certain Well-done Churchwood.’

  ‘Who is that?’ asked Charlotte.

  ‘It can be none other than Eldon Kirkwood, my love.’

  ‘Then he’s a brave man,’ said Paul, looking up. ‘Many people will make fun of the chief magistrate at Bow Street behind his back but few would dare do it in print like Paige. That’s a case of skating on very thin ice.’

  ‘The ice eventually cracked, Paul, and he ended up in prison.’

  ‘I refuse to believe that Kirkwood is a suspect.’

  ‘Oh, it’s quite unthinkable. For all his faults, he’s a Christian gentleman who abides by the Ten Commandments as if they were designed specifically for him. He wants the killer apprehended and brought to book. That’s why he’s authorised Yeomans and his crony to go in pursuit of him.’

  ‘How do we keep ahead of them?’ asked Charlotte.

  ‘By doing things that they would never think of,’ replied Peter, ‘such as doing what we’re doing right now – looking for evidence in Paige’s Chronicle.’

  ‘There’s something else they might overlook,’ said Paul. ‘The landlord told me that only three people ever visited Paige at the house. Each one of them will get a shock when they call again. I asked the landlord to be sure to get their names and, if possible, to find out their addresses. Those close to Paige are the ones most likely to be of any real help to us.’

  ‘Will you call at the house again?’

  ‘I’ll do so every day, Peter.’

  ‘Gully told us that Paige was a very amiable and gregarious man. Did he not have more than three friends he’d invite to his lodging?’

  ‘If he did, he deliberately kept them away from there.’

  ‘It sounds to me as if he was in hiding,’ remarked Charlotte.

  ‘Can you blame him, my love? He knew that he was a marked man – and he may not be the only one, of course.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Paul, ‘there’s the artist who drew those cartoons. They’ll draw even more blood than Paige’s pen portraits. Who is this Virgo?’

  ‘Nobody seems to know.’

  ‘He needs to be warned, Peter.’

  ‘We’ll have to find him before we do that. I’m hoping that, sooner or later, he’ll turn up outside Mrs Mandrake’s shop.’

  ‘I’m still worried about her,’ confided Paul. ‘Having worked with us so often, Charlotte is a proven asset but I can’t imagine any other woman having her special qualities. Mrs Mandrake could be more of a hindrance than a help. She’s inexperienced and unable to defend herself in situations she may well stray into.’

  ‘We’ll have to give her the benefit of the doubt, Paul,’ said his brother. ‘To some extent, I share your reservations. Yet consider what she’s done. Any other woman would simply want to mourn the death of a friend. She, however, is set on hunting his killer. That shows resilience.’ His brow furrowed. ‘I have this strange feeling that Mrs Mandrake may turn out to surprise the whole lot of us.’

  When he first heard of the murder, Benjamin Tite didn’t faint nor did he express any deep sorrow. He accepted the fact of Paige’s death as if it had been a predictable event. His main concern was for the immediate consequences for the shop.

  ‘What do we do with our stock of prints?’ he asked.

  ‘We keep them and sell them, of course.’

  ‘But that will surely endanger us.’

  ‘It’s a danger I’m prepared to live with, Ben. Leo Paige and his partner made a lot of money for us. The Parliament of Foibles is always in demand. We’ll promote it until e
very print is sold.’

  ‘If they can kill Leo Paige, they can kill us.’

  ‘Forewarned is forearmed,’ she said, opening her reticule and taking out a small pistol. ‘I will have this weapon beside me night and day. I suggest that you take the same precaution.’

  Title quivered. ‘I’ve never fired a gun in my life.’

  ‘Well, I have and – to tell you the truth – I rather enjoyed it.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Still bruised from their meeting with the chief magistrate, the Runners were quaffing their third pint of ale at the Peacock Inn. They traded complaints about Kirkwood until they found a new target for their bile. Chevy Ruddock walked into the room and saw them seated in a corner. He was a tall, gawky young man with an unappealing face redeemed by a willing smile. Proud to become a member of one of the foot patrols, he’d been mocked for his wide-eyed innocence at first but he’d learnt quickly. Ruddock had turned into a plucky and resourceful officer. For that reason, he’d been given an important task.

  ‘Good evening,’ he said, sharing a smile between them. ‘I did what you asked of me, Mr Yeomans. I’ve spoken to a dozen of them.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I’ll go back in the morning to sound out even more.’

  ‘And?’ repeated Yeomans. ‘And – and – and?’

  Ruddock was bemused. ‘And what, sir?’

  ‘Did you bring back any evidence? Has anyone reported a sighting?’

  ‘One man did see someone lurking in the vicinity of the house,’ said Ruddock, ‘but thought him too old to be capable of strangling anybody.’

  ‘He could have been keeping an eye on the property,’ said Hale, thoughtfully. ‘Paige’s lodging must have been watched – no doubt about that. Who gave you this information?’

  ‘It was Mokey Venables, sir.’

  ‘That little weasel!’ said Yeomans with a snort. ‘I’ve lost count of the number of times I arrested him for picking pockets. In the end, he learnt that the best way to keep out of prison was to report crimes rather than commit them. Respect where it’s due, though. He’s got sharp eyes and he knows Bloomsbury as well as he knows the body of that scrawny hag he calls his wife.’