Rage of the Assassin Page 7

  ‘Mother needs you.’

  ‘The thing she needs even more is to hear of the arrest of the killer. That’s why I’m so anxious to help Mr Skillen in his search. The villain must be caught.’

  ‘There are at least three people involved,’ said Peter. ‘The assassin had an accomplice and, almost certainly, both were hired by a third person. It’s not impossible, however, that we’re dealing with a wider conspiracy. That’s why I came here.’

  Oxley clicked his tongue. ‘I’ve tried to explain to Mr Skillen that Sir Roger is viewed with the utmost respect in this part of the country. Nobody here would dare to harm him.’

  ‘Quite right,’ said Edmund.

  ‘He may have been called rude names during an election, perhaps, but he dismissed that as mindless banter. Every time he stood, he won the support of a clear majority of electors.’

  ‘But a vast number of people,’ Peter reminded them, ‘were not eligible to vote. Sir Roger took up their cause. That must have angered those of more traditional views. Is it not possible that one or more of them objected to the way that his oratory was stirring up the local population?’

  Edmund Mellanby walked across to Peter and loomed over him.

  ‘Who are you, Mr Skillen?’

  ‘I’m here in order to solve this heinous crime.’

  ‘Who sent you?’

  ‘I came of my own volition.’

  ‘Do you have any credentials?’

  ‘I have a record of success in such investigations.’

  ‘He’s prying into the family’s private affairs,’ complained Oxley. ‘He wants to know everything about Mellanby Hall except how often the bed sheets are changed. It is damnably intrusive.’

  ‘I disagree,’ said David. ‘Mr Skillen has asked some pertinent questions.’

  ‘But does he have the right to do so?’ asked his brother.

  ‘Yes, Edmund – I granted him that right.’

  ‘He did so in defiance of my advice,’ said Oxley. ‘Skillen is an intruder.’

  ‘I’m offering my help,’ insisted Peter.

  ‘We can do without it,’ snapped Edmund. ‘Don’t say anything,’ he went on as David tried to intervene. ‘I’m the head of the family now. I make all the decisions. When it comes to judgement of character, I prize Oxley’s opinion above yours. You have this irritating habit of finding good in even the most disreputable people.’ His eyes shifted to Peter. ‘You are not wanted, sir. I’ll thank you to get out of this house, never to return. Is that plain enough for you?’

  ‘It is,’ said Peter, rising calmly to his feet. ‘I bid you all good day.’

  ‘One moment,’ said David, jumping up.

  ‘Let him go,’ ordered his brother.

  ‘But he has no means of transport, Edmund. His friend, Mr Hooper, took the trap that brought the pair of them here. Common decency obliges us to offer him a ride back to Nottingham.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Peter, ‘but I’m fit enough to walk and happy to do so. Now that I’ve had some insight into how this family operates, I’ve got what I came for.’ He distributed a smile between them. ‘Once more, gentlemen – goodbye.’

  Captain Golightly was in a far more hospitable mood. He invited Paul into his study and called for refreshments. When they’d been provided with sherry and biscuits, he made a confession to his visitor.

  ‘I must apologise, Mr Skillen,’ he said.

  ‘I see no cause for an apology.’

  ‘Friendship got the better of honesty. Out of loyalty to Sir Roger, I held back information that might have some bearing on the case.’

  ‘I’ll be pleased to hear it.’

  ‘Did you speak to Hugh Denley?’

  ‘Yes, I spent an interesting time in his company. He was unashamedly delighted to hear of Sir Roger’s death but denied having anything to do with it.’

  ‘Did you believe him?’

  ‘Not for one moment,’ said Paul. ‘Of the three people I spoke to, Denley would be my chief suspect. It was curious. Being embarrassed in a duel seemed to rankle far more than losing his wife.’

  ‘It was never a happy marriage. Sir Roger realised that and exploited the fact.’

  Paul was taken aback. ‘There was a dalliance with Mrs Denley?’

  ‘I fear that there was.’

  ‘But the lady denied it hotly.’

  ‘She was seizing on the excuse to part with her husband.’

  ‘And did the relationship with Sir Roger continue afterwards?’

  ‘Yes, it did,’ said Golightly. ‘In matters of the heart, he followed his own inclinations and … Kitty Denley is an uncommonly pretty woman.’ He sucked his teeth. ‘You know the worst about him now. Forgive me for trying to shield him from the taint of scandal.’

  ‘That’s a natural instinct. I don’t blame you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What state will Mrs Denley be in now?’

  ‘I should imagine that she’s in despair.’

  ‘Do you have her address, by any chance?’

  ‘Yes, I do, but I’d counsel against your approaching her at such a time.’

  ‘Why is that, Captain?’

  ‘She’s in mourning for the death of the most important man in her life.’

  ‘That may be the best time to speak to her. At times of crisis, people often lower their guard. If Mrs Denley was that close to Sir Roger, she’ll know things about him that might be of great value to me. Much as I hate the notion of intruding on her grief,’ said Paul, ‘I believe that, in this instance, it might be necessary.’

  Golightly needed the best part of a minute to come to a decision. Having made it, he got to his feet and crossed to his desk.

  ‘I’ll get the address for you,’ he said.

  Peter Skillen made the best of the situation forced upon him. He used the long walk back to Nottingham as a chance to inhale clear country air and to reflect on what he’d learnt at Mellanby Hall. Two things had struck him forcibly. The first was the stark difference between the brothers. David had been kind, mild-mannered and grateful for what Peter was doing. Edmund, by contrast, was brusque, resentful and keen to assert his authority. Within minutes of meeting their visitor from London, he’d sent him unceremoniously on his way and made it clear that he wouldn’t be allowed into the house again. One major source of information had been closed to Peter.

  The second thing was that Barrington Oxley had been so defensive. A man who knew most about Mellanby’s political life was the one least ready to talk about it. While he gave fairly straight answers to some of Peter’s questions, Oxley dodged most of them. Well spoken and highly educated, he was also slippery and secretive. It was almost as if he didn’t want to help in the search for the assassin. What annoyed Peter was the way in which the man had treated Hooper. It was open contempt. Yet Hooper was typical of the people whose cause Sir Roger had been leading. Was Oxley actually opposed to an increase in suffrage?

  Peter had walked the best part of a mile before he heard the brisk clip-clop of hooves and the rasping sound of wheels. He turned to see a curricle coming towards him with David Mellanby seated inside it. When he got close, David reined in the horse and the vehicle came to a halt. In response to a beckoning gesture, Peter climbed in beside the driver.

  ‘I can’t apologise enough for my brother’s behaviour,’ said David, penitently. ‘It was shameful of Edmund to treat a guest like that.’

  ‘I was more offended on your behalf,’ said Peter. ‘Taking holy orders is an act of faith that should be respected. It involves making great sacrifices. Your brother was wrong to mock you.’

  ‘That was ever Edmund’s way.’

  ‘I can’t believe that your father approved of his attitude.’

  ‘They were often at loggerheads about it, Mr Skillen.’ He flicked the reins and the horse set off at a trot. ‘I’m sorry that your visit was in vain.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Peter, ‘I learnt a great deal. That was largely down to yo
u, of course. Mr Oxley was less obliging.’

  ‘He’s still dazed by the shock of father’s sudden death.’

  ‘To be frank, I doubt if Mr Oxley is dazed by anything. He seems to be remarkably self-possessed.’

  ‘Father relied heavily on his judgement.’

  ‘He’s clearly a shrewd man but intensely private. One can’t say that about your brother. He’s more assertive and he relishes his role as the elder son.’

  David pursed his lips. ‘Growing up with Edmund had its problems, I must admit.’

  ‘What does he do?’

  ‘He has an uncanny knack for buying and selling large estates,’ said David, ‘though I suspect that he may have another career in mind now.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Father’s death creates a vacancy and Edmund has always rather fancied himself as a Member of Parliament. Unlike me, he did actually go to the House of Commons to hear debates. When I’ve been in London, I always make straight for St Paul’s Cathedral.’

  ‘Would he be likely to win a by-election?’

  ‘He would if Mr Oxley was by his side. The family name would be a real advantage, naturally. Even voters who didn’t agree with Father’s views on reform nevertheless supported him. They’d stick by Edmund.’

  ‘On my brief acquaintance with him,’ said Peter, ‘I didn’t get the feeling that he was in the same mould as Sir Roger.’

  David gave a dry laugh. ‘You’re very perceptive, Mr Skillen,’ he said. ‘Edmund would enter Parliament for his own benefit, not for that of others. I’m sure that he’s been saddened by the turn of events, but he’ll never actually show it. And his anguish won’t stop him taking full advantage of Father’s death. While the rest of the family is in torment, Edmund will be poised to fulfil a long-held ambition. There’ll be no holding him back now.’

  As soon as they were left alone together, Edmund Mellanby wanted to know how Peter had been let into the house at a time when they most needed to be left alone. He was appalled to hear about the freedom with which his younger brother had talked about the family. Oxley was scathing.

  ‘The worst of it was,’ he said, ‘that he brought that untutored oaf, Hooper, with him. The man just sat there, fiddling with the sleeves of his coat and looking at Skillen as if he were a latter-day Messiah. Your father would never have allowed Hooper into the stables, still less into the house itself.’

  ‘What’s your estimate of Skillen?’

  ‘He’s intelligent,’ conceded Oxley, ‘there’s no question about that. I fear that he could be more than just a nuisance.’

  ‘Is he dangerous?’ asked Edmund. ‘That’s all I wish to know.’

  ‘He could be.’

  ‘I want him watched while he’s here.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’ll see to it.’

  ‘Now that I’m making the decisions, this family will be given the protection it deserves. Skillen must not be allowed anywhere near Mellanby Hall again.’

  ‘I’ll give orders to that effect.’

  ‘And we must devise a way to keep David away from him. My brother is such a gullible fool. He offers his friendship too easily. Skillen will try to exploit that. I leave the arrangements to you,’ he said. ‘Have him watched for the rest of the day, then send me a report of his movements.’ He slapped the side of his boot with the whip. ‘We need to send this interfering, self-appointed policeman back to London before he starts to cause trouble.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  The house was in a narrow road off Regent Street. It was neat, unpretentious and of moderate size. Paul was not at all sure what sort of a reception he would get. It all depended, he felt, on whether or not Kitty Denley had heard the news of the murder. If she had, it was unlikely that she’d agree to speak to a complete stranger at a time when she would be so distressed and vulnerable. Even if she were ignorant of the tragedy, Paul might be turned away but there was less chance of that happening. Because it was so important to win her confidence, he rehearsed his lines carefully beforehand. Only when he felt word perfect did he eventually ring the bell. The moment the door was half opened by a maidservant, he knew that the sad tidings had already reached the house. Her face was a study in sadness.

  ‘I’m aware that this is a difficult time to call,’ he said, considerately, ‘but it’s imperative that I speak to your mistress on a private matter. My name is Paul Skillen. Only the urgency of the situation would compel me to come here. Please convey that information to Mrs Denley.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said the girl.

  After bobbing at him, she closed the door. Paul was left on the pavement so long that he feared his request had been summarily turned down. Then he became aware that he was being studied from an upstairs window. Pretending to be unaware of the surveillance, he moved two paces backwards so that he could be seen more clearly from the house. After another extended wait, he heard footsteps in the hall, then the door swung fully open.

  ‘You’re to come in, Mr Skillen,’ said the maidservant.

  ‘Thank you.’

  She stood back so that he could step into the house then closed the door again. After leading him down a corridor, she paused outside the drawing room and tapped on the door. A frail, female voice invited her to enter. Obeying the command, she ushered Paul into the room then left. Hat in hand, he stood there and marvelled. Captain Golightly had described the woman as uncommonly pretty, but it was a gross understatement. Kitty Denley was uncompromisingly beautiful. Years younger than her husband, she had a slender figure and sculptured features that reminded him of Hannah. She examined him through large, moist blue eyes.

  ‘Who are you, Mr Skillen?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m searching for the man who killed Sir Roger Mellanby.’

  She gave a shrug. ‘I don’t believe that I know such a person.’

  ‘Then I beg your forgiveness and will intrude no longer.’

  After offering her an apologetic bow, he turned on his heel and walked away.

  ‘Wait,’ she called.

  He stopped and looked back at her. ‘Yes, Mrs Denley?’

  ‘Who sent you?’

  ‘Nobody sent me. I felt impelled to come, that’s all.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If you’re not acquainted with Sir Roger, there’s no point in my telling you. He was a friend of mine,’ he lied. ‘I had the misfortune to be standing next to him when he was shot dead.’ He saw her jerk involuntarily. ‘But I won’t alarm you with details of what befell a person you never met. Good day to you.’

  ‘One moment,’ she said, rising gracefully to her feet and looking him in the eye. ‘I fancy that I … may have heard of the gentleman.’

  ‘He’d certainly heard of you, Mrs Denley. Whenever he mentioned your name, his face glowed with pleasure. The hope of catching a glimpse of you made the long journey to London almost enjoyable.’ A smile flitted across her face. ‘Evidently, this is not a time for reminiscences. You would rather be alone with your own thoughts. I appreciate that.’

  Before he could turn away again, she touched his elbow.

  ‘Please stay. I sense that you are a man of discretion, Mr Skillen.’

  ‘I’m not here to pry. I’ve committed myself to the search for his assassin and wondered – just wondered, that’s all – if you could furnish me with details about him that might somehow be of use in that search. Now that we’re face-to-face, I realise that it’s too great an imposition on you.’

  ‘What sort of details?’ she asked.

  ‘Sir Roger had enemies. I need to know who they are.’

  ‘If you’re his friend, surely he told you.’

  ‘He named two Members of Parliament who’d made verbal threats,’ said Paul, ‘and he once made a passing reference to a duel he’d fought. That was how your name came to my ears.’

  ‘My husband misunderstood my relationship with Sir Roger.’

  ‘Did Mr Denley move in political circles?’

  ‘No, he didn’t.’


  ‘Did he number Oswald Ferriday among his friends?’

  ‘Not as far as I know.’

  ‘What about Sir Marcus Brough?’

  ‘I’ve never heard that name mentioned.’

  ‘If he had no interest in politicians, then he probably hadn’t met Sir Roger before he fought a—’

  ‘That’s true,’ she said, interrupting him.

  ‘How would your husband have reacted to news of his death?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, Mr Skillen. We no longer live as man and wife, you see.’

  ‘That’s your business, Mrs Denley, and I’ve neither the right nor desire to pry into it. What I really wish to know is this: did Sir Roger ever describe someone to you as … well, a serious danger to him?’

  She pondered. ‘There was someone,’ she said at length.

  Luck was a crucial component of Harry Scattergood’s success. He’d lost count of the number of unlocked doors and half-open windows that had beckoned him in the past. Most people took care to guard their property, but he had the good fortune to come across householders who were less careful. It was almost as if they were begging to be robbed. In his pursuit of the reward money, he knew that the problem was to convince the Runners that his information was genuine. He therefore repaired to the Peacock Inn and glanced through the window.

  Once again, he was in luck. Alfred Hale was there by himself. Had the Runner been with Micah Yeomans, it would have been different. Scattergood would have hesitated because it would have been more difficult to win the latter’s confidence. On his own, Hale was an easier target, less suspicious and more ready to listen. Instead of peering through the window, Scattergood used it as a mirror in which he could tip his hat slightly and adjust his apparel. When he felt his disguise was perfect, he strutted boldly into the Peacock as if it had been named after him.

  ‘I’m looking for Mr Yeomans,’ he announced.

  ‘He’s not here, sir,’ said Hale, politely. ‘I can speak for him. He and I work together. What might your business be with Mr Yeomans?’

  ‘I’ve come about the reward concerning the murder of Sir Roger Mellanby.’