Shadow of the Hangman(37)

‘This is extremely disconcerting, my lord.’

‘It sheds a very different light on the events at Dartmoor.’

Grocott handed the letter back to him. ‘I agree,’ he said, ‘but only if it’s a true account and not some grotesque hoax.’

‘The detail is too exact for it to be a hoax and it’s signed by the two prisoners who are known to have escaped. Captain Shortland did warn us about Thomas O’Gara. Evidently, the fellow is determined to be the governor’s nemesis.’

‘However did he reach London?’

‘He must be a very resourceful man.’

‘I deplore the way he tries to bully you, my lord,’ said Grocott, ‘but there’s no doubt that he can marshal an argument. This list of demands is both lucid and – dare I say it – oddly persuasive.’

‘But it’s rendered invalid by the threats against my life,’ said Sidmouth, angrily. ‘I’d never bow to coercion of this kind. If two escaped prisoners think they can scare me into introducing new legislation into the statute book, they know nothing of my character or of the way that government operates. At the same time,’ he continued, moderating his tone, ‘certain points are raised in the description of the mutiny that should bear close examination. If you put this document beside Captain Shortland’s version of the same events, you’ll see enormous discrepancies.’

‘I side with the governor.’

‘Let the joint commission do its work, Grocott. They need to see this deposition from Thomas O’Gara and Moses Dagg. Though I abhor their attempt at intimidating me, I have to admit to a sneaking admiration for them.’

‘Admiration?’ repeated the other in surprise.

‘They could so easily have ignored the American prisoners left behind and simply have taken a ship back to their homeland. In remaining here to lead what they foolishly deem to be a kind of crusade, they’ve placed themselves in danger. That takes courage.’

‘I care nothing for their safety, my lord, but I am concerned about yours.’

‘They’ve no means to carry out their threat.’

‘Yet a moment ago, you were saying how resourceful they were.’

‘That’s true,’ conceded Sidmouth, uneasily.

‘You need immediate protection.’

‘They’ll not do anything until they know the outcome of the commission. It’s clear that they’re aware of its existence because they refer to it in their letter. That can only mean that they read about it in the newspapers.’

‘They may not wait for the commission to pronounce its verdict,’ argued Grocott. ‘There’s a hectoring tone in their demands and an underlying impatience. I fear that, if they don’t get what they want soon, they may decide to exact revenge and you will be their target.’

‘I don’t feel in any danger.’

‘Neither did our last Prime Minister.’

The reminder was so painful that it made Sidmouth twitch involuntarily. Three years earlier, Spencer Perceval, a well-respected politician with an evangelical air about him, had been shot dead in the lobby of the House of Commons by a bankrupt merchant, John James Bellingham. The fact that a Prime Minister could be murdered so easily in broad daylight had sent tremors through the political classes and every Member of Parliament became more watchful.

Sidmouth regained his composure. ‘The assassin was clearly deranged.’

‘Do you think that Thomas O’Gara and Moses Dagg are of sound mind?’

‘Yes, I do. Palpably, they are capable of reason.’

‘Yet they’re driven by a dark fanaticism.’

‘They have a missionary zeal, I grant you.’

‘They’re obsessed, my lord, and obsessions make people unpredictable. I beg of you to take precautions. Before you submit that document to the joint commission, show it to someone who can mount a guard on you. This is work for the Runners.’

‘You have a point,’ admitted Sidmouth, ‘but the best defence is to eliminate the threat altogether. The Runners can protect me from attack but we need someone else, if we are to catch these fugitives from Dartmoor. I’m expecting a report from Peter Skillen fairly soon. He and his brother are the men for this task. They’ll know how to smoke out O’Gara and Dagg.’





Though Dermot Fallon and his family had given the fugitives a warm Irish welcome, they were far less popular with the neighbours. Dagg, in particular, aroused a lot of hostility. His was the only black face in the rookery and it made him a figure of suspicion. He was blamed simply for being there and, when he gave an innocuous smile to a pretty young woman in the street, her common-law husband was inflamed with jealousy. The man lay in wait for Dagg then confronted him as he emerged out of the tenement. Short, stocky and in his twenties, the man was a chimney sweep by trade and, ironically, as black as the sailor.