Shadow of the Hangman(50)

‘Tell me everything he said,’ he growled.

‘I told you.’

‘There must be more.’

‘I arsked ’im ’bout the nigger,’ said the boy, snivelling, ‘and ’e said he saw ’im fight you and knock you to the ground.’

‘But why is he there?’

‘Wouldn’t tell me.’

‘He must have said something.’

‘Yeah but … I forgot what it was.’

In an attempt to jog his memory, Kearney slapped him again. His son wailed.

‘Do I have to knock it out of you?’ asked the father, looming over him.

‘No, no,’ begged his son. ‘I remember now.’

‘Go on.’

‘I arsked ’im why they was there and ’e told me ’e couldn’t say.’

‘Why not?’

‘Farver warned ’im to keep ’is gob shut. But …’

‘Well? Spit it out, lad.’

‘Listened at the door one night and …’eard them talk.’

‘What did they say?’

‘It was … somethink about prison.’

Kearney’s eyes ignited. ‘They’ve escaped?’

‘Told all I knows.’

‘Good boy!’ said his father, hugging him. ‘Well done!’

Accustomed only to routine violence from his father, Niall Kearney didn’t know how to react to this unparalleled display of affection. He flinched, as if in readiness for the next blow, then laughed wildly when it didn’t actually come.





In the course of his work as a detective, Peter Skillen had become acquainted with a large number of lawyers. Most were conscientious men who abided by the strict rules of their profession and served their clients as best they could at all times. Trust was their watchword. Some, however, were less honourable, often tempted to fleece those who fell unguardedly into their hands instead of representing them in a proper manner. A significant few – and Peter knew them by reputation – were arrant, unprincipled rogues who would stop at nothing to win a case, discredit any opposition they met and make a tidy profit. He didn’t waste energy on speaking to anyone in this last category. Peter spent the whole morning going from office to office of lawyers who would give him time without trying to charge him for it and who would provide him with honest answers. Yet after a couple of hours of tramping the streets, he’d learnt nothing that got him any closer to the mystery scrivener.

It was when he called at the offices of Rendcombe and Spiller that he had more luck. Martin Rendcombe was an apparently benign old man with a weak handshake and bloodshot eyes but, having once engaged him to act on his behalf, Peter knew how steely and effective he could be once involved in a case. Steeped in the arcane practices of the law, the man was a walking anthology of precedents and procedural niceties. After he’d invited his visitor to sit down in the book-lined office, Rendcombe peered at him over his spectacles.

‘It is Peter Skillen, isn’t it?’ he checked.

‘Yes, it is,’ replied the other.

‘I did act for your brother, Paul, on one occasion. It was very confusing.’

‘I don’t see why, Mr Rendcombe. It’s easy to tell us apart. I’m the handsome brother and Paul is not.’ The lawyer smiled good-naturedly. ‘Your time is precious so I’ll take up as little of it as I may.’

Peter explained the purpose of his visit and how important it was for him to track down the man who’d written the document submitted to the Home Secretary. Shocked to hear of the death threat, Rendcombe was quick to remove any suspicion from his own staff.

‘Our clerks are, without exception, men of the highest probity,’ he said. ‘They would never be party to anything of this kind.’

‘I’m sure that they wouldn’t, Mr Rendcombe.’

‘Do you have this obnoxious letter with you?’

‘Unfortunately,’ said Peter, ‘I do not. The Home Secretary insisted on sending it to the joint commission looking into events at Dartmoor. Besides, I’m not sure that you could have told anything from the calligraphy beyond the fact that it was the work of an educated hand. Every lawyer to whom I’ve already spoken has said the same thing – nobody in their employ would dare to become embroiled with two escaped prisoners. Had such an approach been made to their clerks, the two fugitives would have been reported immediately.’

‘Quite so, Mr Skillen.’

‘And it may be that the man I’m after has never worked for a lawyer.’

‘Clerks exist in many other professions.’

‘What guided me to you and your legal colleagues was the way in which the document was framed. It was written by someone well versed in setting out an argument. The two Americans, O’Gara and Dagg, supplied the facts but they could never have presented them to such impressive effect.’