‘How do we find him?’
‘He lives behind Orchard Street somewhere. All we have to do is to get there and start knocking on doors.’
‘It’s well after midnight,’ noted Dagg. ‘Will your cousin be up at this hour?’
Tom O’Gara burst out laughing.
‘Dermot is Irish,’ he said. ‘He’s always up.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Paul Skillen was in a quandary. He had to choose between the woman he loved and the life on which he thrived. There was no possibility of compromise. He was being forced to surrender something very dear to him. It was disturbing. During a series of dalliances with beautiful young women, he’d never before been scolded for taking part in daring escapades. Indeed, the others had always praised his courage and been thrilled to hear of his adventures. His intrepidity was a source of attraction for them. Hannah Granville was different. While she had, at first, been drawn by the aura of danger that surrounded him, she was disturbed by the risks he was prepared to take. The more involved she’d become with Paul, the more concerned she was for his safety. Unsettled by the injuries he’d received during the pursuit of Ned Greet, she was even more upset to learn of his antics on the rooftops of Upper Brook Street.
When he reflected upon the situation, he drew consolation from the fact that Hannah cared so deeply about him. With the exception of his sister-in-law, Charlotte, he’d never met any woman who’d left him so deliciously inebriated with love. In the talented actress, he’d at last found someone else with whom he felt he could spend the rest of his days. To lose her would be in the nature of a catastrophe, yet so would the loss of his work as a detective. Apart from anything else, the assignments he undertook gave him the income needed to court someone like Hannah. It was difficult to see how he could earn the same amount of money elsewhere. There was a more immediate concern: Paul was only one of countless suitors to Hannah Granville. When he was no longer her chosen companion, someone else would soon replace him. That thought gnawed away at him obsessively.
Much as he loved his brother, he’d never been able to discuss his private life with him. Indeed, when Peter was the successful rival for Charlotte’s hand, there’d been a measure of uneasiness between the brothers that had never entirely dissipated. The one person to whom he could not turn for advice, therefore, was Peter. As a result, Paul was obliged to look elsewhere, so he went to the shooting gallery.
‘Good morning, Charlotte,’ he said.
‘Good morning, Paul,’ she answered. ‘If you’ve come for your usual fencing lesson with Gully, you’ll have to bide your time. He’s teaching the rudiments of archery to a new customer.’
‘The fencing can wait.’
‘While you’re here, I’ve something to show you.’
‘Oh?’
‘It’s the description of Simon Medlow,’ she said, opening the record book at the appropriate page. ‘Peter thinks it’s accurate but I’d like your comments as well.’
He read the entry. ‘That’s very good.’
‘I’ll be glad when I can write, “arrested and convicted” beside his name. He’s evaded the law for too long. And talking of evasion,’ she added, ‘did you know that Will Bickerton has been seen back in London?’ Paul gave a shrug of indifference. ‘When he dodged you last time, you swore that you’d catch him one day.’
‘And I will,’ he said, impatiently, ‘but I’ve more important things on my mind at the moment than a swindler like Bickerton.’
They were in the room at the rear of the shooting gallery. The thud of arrows into the target could be heard along with the distant grunts from pugilists trying to knock each other into oblivion. Since both Gully Ackford and Jem Huckvale were busy elsewhere in the building, Paul and Charlotte were unlikely to be interrupted. Rehearsing what he was going to say, he took the chair beside her.
‘May I ask you a question?’ he began.
‘There’s no need to be so formal – of course, you may.’
‘Do you ever worry about Peter?’
‘Worry?’ she echoed.
‘You know only too well what our work sometimes entails.’
‘I try not to brood on that aspect of it, Paul.’
‘Deep down, however, would you prefer it if Peter had a less hazardous occupation?’
‘I’d prefer it if neither of you put your lives at risk,’ she said with an affectionate smile, ‘but criminals will almost invariably resist arrest and violence is therefore unavoidable. I’ve been compelled to accept that.’