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.