For the time being, however, he had something of more importance to ponder. Hannah Granville remained the burning issue and he felt ashamed that his immediate response to her rejection of him was to lurch off to a gambling hell and drink himself into a state of utter helplessness. It was only on the following day that he’d learnt how he’d got safely home that night.
A friend had driven him there in his carriage and roused a servant to take his master in. Had Paul tried to make his own way home, he would have been easy prey for any footpad and every penny of the winnings he’d somehow accumulated at the card table would certainly have been stolen. As it was, he was now sobered in every sense and the money was intact.
On the second night away from Hannah, therefore, he’d shunned alcohol and stoutly resisted the lure of gambling. When he’d retired early to bed, he heard the rain beating on the window and savoured the thought that the hapless Runner on duty outside would be soaked to the skin. He’d awoken early and rolled over to embrace Hannah Granville, only to find that she was not there. Though their relationship had been short and a trifle tempestuous, it had quickly seemed like the norm to him. Now she was decisively absent. Reminded of her ultimatum, he spent the whole morning wondering how he could win her back and persuade her to accept him on his own terms. What he would not do, he vowed, was to court another slap in the face by trying to visit her in her dressing room before a performance.
On the other hand, the urge to see her again was so powerful that it couldn’t be resisted. He therefore decided to watch her onstage from an anonymous position in the circle. If he couldn’t feel the sensuous warmth of her body against his, he could at least applaud her extraordinary talents as an actress.
It was afternoon before Jem Huckvale came running towards the house. When he was let in, the first thing he did was to gabble a warning.
‘Someone is watching you, Paul.’
‘I know that.’
‘Why is he there?’
‘I suspect that he’s waiting for me to slip up in some way, so that he can report my misdemeanour to Micah Yeomans. The Runners would love to hobble me and my brother but we won’t give them the opportunity.’
‘I’ve a message from Peter.’
‘What is it?’
‘You’re to meet him at the gallery as soon as possible. He wants you to help him in a search.’
‘Do you have no more details than that, Jem?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Then I’ll come at once.’
‘What about that man outside?’
‘It’s time I made my feelings known to him,’ decided Paul. ‘I’ll need your help, Jem. Will you do me a favour?’
‘I’ll do it gladly.’
‘Good fellow!’ said Paul, squeezing him by his shoulders. ‘What a wonderful friend you are. You never let me down and you never need explanations. Now, what I want you to do is this …’
His name was Chevy Ruddock and he was a member of a foot patrol. Tall, gangly and with a face that boasted a veritable outcrop of warts, he was the youngest of them and thus the one most frequently put upon. Standing just around the corner, he believed that he was invisible from Paul Skillen’s house. All he had to do to watch it was to take a step forward. Having been thoroughly drenched in the downpour the previous night, Ruddock was relieved to be on duty in fine weather this time but the work was onerous. His legs were aching, his feet sore and his whole body weary. He fought off boredom by counting up to a hundred then repeating the procedure. It gave him something to do.
Having seen Jem Huckvale visit the house, he’d at last got something positive to report to Alfred Hale. It made him more alert. Sensing that something was about to happen, he peered around the corner. The door of the house opened and Huckvale emerged, waving a farewell before trotting off down the street. A minute later, Paul Skillen came out of the house, put on his hat at a jaunty angle and marched off purposefully. Ruddock was on his tail at once, wishing that he didn’t walk so fast or wend his way through so many streets. Paul’s gaudy attire made him easy to follow, so there was no danger of being shaken off, but it was still an effort for the latter to keep up with him.
In the end, by means of Thames Street, they reached the river and Paul walked along it to a quiet stretch of the bank. When his quarry disappeared from sight for a while, Ruddock broke into a run to catch up with him. Before he reached the bank, however, he heard a loud splash as if a body had just plunged into the water. He could see no sign of Paul. Rushing to the edge, he stared intently into the river, as if fully expecting the man he’d been following to bob up to the surface. The next moment, someone shoved him hard from behind and he plunged forwards into the river, disappearing under the surface and swallowing half a pint of cold, evil-tasting, brackish water.