The brothers were within a relatively short distance of the main platform. It was on that raised area, festooned with flags and bunting, that Viscount Sidmouth would be sitting with His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent, the Prime Minister and senior members of the government. Peter had reasoned that anyone with serious intentions of assassination would be certain to get the lie of the land in advance. Now that everything was finally set up, the rehearsal could be watched and the disposition of soldiers noted. Scores of people were about, drawn by curiosity and anxious to see the place where the celebrations would be held. It was impossible for Peter and Paul to pick out everyone who merited a closer inspection so they selected only the most obvious cases. All of the people who had so far been taking a more than casual interest in the main platform had turned out to be quite harmless.
Peter then spotted something of concern. A horse and cart pulled up on the road running alongside the park. Two men alighted and walked towards the main platform. There was nothing sinister about the pair. They might have been out for an afternoon stroll. It was the driver who alerted Peter. On a warm day, he was wearing a hood that all but obscured his face. What were still clearly visible, however, were the driver’s black hands. Peter rose to his feet and removed his hat briefly by way of a signal to his brother. Leaving their work, they converged slowly on the platform. The two men from the cart didn’t notice them at first. They were too absorbed in looking at the platform and walking around it.
Before they challenged the men, Peter and Paul made sure that they got between them and the cart, thereby cutting off their means of escape. When they got close enough, they heard Irish accents. It was the confirmation they needed.
‘Good afternoon, Mr O’Gara,’ said Peter.
‘And the same to you, Mr Fallon,’ added Paul.
The greetings had an immediate effect on the men. Their instinct was to run back to the cart but their way was blocked. They therefore tried to run around the brothers in a wide arc. Peter and Paul were far too quick for them, sprinting after a man apiece until they got within reach. Peter tackled O’Gara around the legs and brought him crashing to the ground, dazing him in the process. Paul jumped on Fallon’s back and was carried a dozen yards before his weight was too much for the Irishman. A fierce fight developed between them. The advantage was very much with the detectives because they were working with the Bow Street Runners for once. Yeomans and his men had been lurking in some bushes in case they were needed. When they saw what was happening, they broke cover and ran towards the action.
Peter dragged O’Gara up by the scruff of his neck and handed him over to Yeomans and Hale. Intending to help his brother, he saw that Paul already had an able assistant. Ruddock had grabbed Fallon from behind and pinioned his arms. Both Irishmen had been caught. Attention now shifted to the horse and cart. Enraged by what he’d seen, Moses Dagg set out to rescue his friends. He flicked the reins and reinforced the command with a loud yell. The animal began cantering across the grass. When Dagg reached the little group, he hauled on the reins and the cartwheels threw up a series of divots as they ground to a halt.
Dagg reached inside his coat for his pistol but he was too slow. Paul had already leapt up onto the cart and seized him by the wrist so that the weapon pointed upwards. There was a ferocious struggle with O’Gara and Fallon urging on their man. Unaware of its implications, a small crowd gathered to watch the fight but it was soon over. The pistol went off, discharging its bullet harmlessly into the air, and the horse bolted. With the two men still grappling madly, the cart went careering across the grass and scattered everybody in its way. The horse was galloping towards some trees. When it got close, it suddenly veered off to the left, overturning the cart in the process and throwing its two occupants to the ground.
Releasing his hold on the other man, Paul did several impromptu somersaults before coming to a halt on the grass. He leapt up at once to continue the fight then saw that it was already over. Hurled from the cart, Dagg had fallen awkwardly and now lay motionless.
Viscount Sidmouth was so pleased with the turn of events that he walked up and down his office with barely subdued glee.
‘All three of them were caught,’ he said. ‘O’Gara and Fallon are in custody and, since he broke his neck in the fall, Dagg will no longer be of concern us. The Skillen brothers have removed a terrible weight from my shoulders.’
‘The Runners did their part,’ Grocott reminded him. ‘A word of praise to Yeomans and Hale will not come amiss, my lord.’
‘Indeed, it won’t.’