Dalrymple was concerned. ‘You look unwell, Hannah. What’s amiss?’
‘Take me out of here now.’
Viscount Sidmouth was working his way through the morning’s correspondence when Bernard Grocott came to see him with some documents that required the Home Secretary’s signature. After dipping his quill in the inkwell, Sidmouth appended his name before handing the documents back.
‘It seems as if we may get a decision from the joint commission earlier than I expected,’ he said.
‘Have they considered all the evidence available?’
‘It appears so. They were anxious to deliver a prompt verdict so that the matter could be put aside and normal life could resume at Dartmoor.’
‘Life in any prison is far from normal,’ remarked Grocott. ‘Indeed, it’s the very departure from normality that causes so much distress among the prisoners. I’m not speaking up on their behalf,’ he added, hastily. ‘If they commit a crime, they deserve to lose their freedom. I’m just trying to understand how they must feel when wrenched away from everything they hold dear.’
‘What most of the prisoners in Dartmoor hold dear is this immature nation of theirs and, as we know to our cost, it engaged precipitately in a war against us. We are dealing with enemies, Grocott. The joint commission will recognise that.’
‘Yet the peace treaty has now been ratified, my lord.’
‘They remain prisoners of war until released.’
‘Or until they’re recaptured,’ said Grocott, thinking of the fugitives. ‘Has there been any news of the search for O’Gara and Dagg?’
‘Peter and Paul Skillen continue their work with the usual diligence.’
‘I’d value some positive results.’
‘Be fair to them,’ said Sidmouth. ‘They did track the men to their lair in that Irish community and got there ahead of Yeomans and his men.’
‘Yet the Americans remain at liberty, my lord, and it now seems that a verdict on the riot will be delivered before the celebrations in Hyde Park. If that is the case, and if O’Gara and Dagg become aware of it, you will become a marked man.’
‘I am well protected.’
‘These men are hotheads. They may resort to extreme measures.’
‘I’m satisfied with the arrangements made for my safety,’ said Sidmouth, easily, ‘and for that of others. As I often reflect, when I was steering the ship of state, I was a target for every member of the French nation yet I survived without a scratch.’
‘This is a different matter.’
‘I agree. During the war against Napoleon, millions of people wanted me dead. That number has now reduced to a mere two.’
‘They have an accomplice in Dermot Fallon.’
Sidmouth was untroubled. ‘That simply raises the total to three.’
‘You’re unwise to ignore this threat, my lord.’
‘On the contrary, I take it very seriously. It’s the reason I asked for Yeomans and Hale to act as my bodyguards. They impart confidence and make me feel secure. As for Dermot Fallon,’ he continued, reaching for a letter, ‘I had some interesting news about the tenement in which he hid O’Gara and Dagg.’
‘What is it?’
‘A man committed suicide there by jumping from an upstairs window. He was a chimney sweep by the name of Donal Kearney. Do you spy a connection?’
‘Ah,’ said Grocott, recalling the raid. ‘Yeomans and his men were given help by an informant living in that slum behind Orchard Street. Could this be the man?’
‘I’ll get Yeomans to confirm it.’
‘If he did betray the fugitives,’ said Grocott, ‘and if the other residents became aware of it, Kearney’s life would not have been worth living.’
After another secret meeting with her husband, Mary Fallon returned to the tenement with some much-needed money and with a message for all the other residents. It was the express wish of Fallon that the persecution of the Kearney family should cease. In losing her husband, his wife and their children had suffered enough. They were no longer to be treated as despised outcasts. Mary spread the word and, though some people complained about the change of attitude, they all abided by Fallon’s decision. It was left to Mary to pass on the news to the widow.
When she knocked on the door, there was no answer even though she knew that the Kearney family were inside, mourning their loss and hiding from their enemies. She banged the door with her fist and raised her voice.
‘Could I speak to you, please, Mrs Kearney?’ she asked. ‘It’s Mary Fallon. I’ve got something for you.’