Shadow of the Hangman(115)

‘Good evening, Hannah,’ he said, rising to his feet.

‘How did you get in here?’ she gasped.

‘I always told you that I was resourceful.’

She turned away. ‘I’ll have you thrown out at once.’

‘No, no,’ he said, stepping between her and the door. ‘Please listen to what I have to say. If you still wish me to go, I’ll walk out of your life for ever.’

‘You’ve already done that, Paul. When I saw you in the audience with your wife, I saw how cruelly I’d been misled.’

He laughed. ‘So that’s it! I prayed that it might be.’

‘It’s hardly a subject for amusement.’

‘I’m laughing with relief, Hannah, don’t you see? My sister-in-law told me what happened when she met you in that shop in Piccadilly. You snubbed her.’

Hannah froze. ‘Did you call her your sister-in-law?’

‘Yes, her name is Charlotte.’

‘She told me that she was your wife. I saw her with you twice.’

‘What you saw was my twin brother, Peter,’ he explained. ‘We are often mistaken for each other.’ She remained unconvinced. ‘If you don’t believe me, I’ll take you to their house after the performance and you’ll see for yourself.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me that you had a twin brother?’

‘I wanted you all to myself, Hannah – and I still do.’

Her voice softened. ‘You’ve given me so much anguish, Paul.’

‘Then I apologise unreservedly. By the same token, however, you’ve given me great pain. How do you think I felt when I saw you leaving the theatre with that handsome young man?’ She stifled a laugh. ‘Don’t deny it. By the sound of it, you were seen with him by my sister-in-law as well. He’s my replacement.’

‘Yes, I was seen with him,’ she confessed, ‘but Felix is not a replacement for you. It would be very improper, for a start. Felix Dalrymple is my half-brother. He was in London for a few days so we spent time together, that is all. I needed a man to keep my admirers at arm’s length and Felix did that admirably. How strange!’ she went on. ‘I have been in agony over this phantom wife of yours and you thought that I’d turn to the first man who paid me a charming compliment. What a pair we are, Paul!’

The differences between them had suddenly dissolved completely. Hannah no longer wanted him to abandon the dangerous work that meant so much to him and Paul no longer bridled at the thought that someone was imposing limitations on him. In retrospect, their disagreement seemed petty. All that mattered now was that they were back together again.

Paul smiled at her. ‘Why don’t you lock that door?’





When they tumbled out of The Peacock that night, Micah Yeomans and Alfred Hale had drunk so much that they needed the assistance of a wall to remain upright. After staggering the best part of a hundred yards, they rested against the window of a tailor’s shop. Yeomans was offended.

‘The Doctor has done it again,’ he complained. ‘He’s giving someone else undeserved credit. We had to listen to him praising the Skillen brothers for rescuing that woman when he should have been berating them for letting the villains get away to cause even worse trouble. Luckily, we’re the ones who’ll be guarding the Doctor at the celebration. We’ll show Peter and Paul how it should be done.’

Hale was worried. ‘We could be in danger ourselves, Micah.’

‘We live with that danger every day.’

‘This is different,’ said the other. ‘We know the streets of London. Wherever we go, we can take care of ourselves. There’ll be thousands of people in Hyde Park on the great day. An attack could come from any of them. We can’t possibly keep an eye on them all.’ He gave a shiver. ‘I don’t fancy being shot in the back with a poisoned arrow.’

‘That won’t happen, Alfred,’ said the other, contemptuously. ‘That warning about a poisoned arrow was nonsensical. It was dreamt up by Peter Skillen to give the Doctor a fright.’

‘But they found a bow and arrow and a bottle of poison.’

‘So they say.’

‘According to the apothecary who examined it, that poison would have been fatal. Just imagine that, Micah.’

‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ said Yeomans with an extravagant gesture. ‘And I certainly don’t believe that Mrs Levitt is involved in the conspiracy. She’s there to clean the rooms, for heaven’s sake. She probably can’t even read or write.’





Bernard Grocott also had doubts that Ruth Levitt was in any way responsible for the theft of secret information from the Home Office. Having found and appointed her, he felt that he knew her better than anybody. He’d also enjoyed the praise of his colleagues for replacing Anne Horner so soon and with such an efficient deputy. Grocott refused to believe that his judgement had been so fallible. When he let himself into the building early the next morning, he expected to find every room as clean as it usually was and every desk gleaming. Entering his office, however, he had a profound shock. It was exactly as he’d left it the previous evening. The place had reverted to its earlier chaos. She was gone. Ruth Levitt had not been anywhere near the Home Office.