Shadow of the Hangman(53)

The Irishmen were soon displaced from his mind by Hannah Granville. He could imagine the look of horror on her face, if she’d seen him tussle with the two men. The fact that he’d escaped with comparative ease would not have reassured her. What would trouble her was that he’d gone into the volatile area of Seven Dials on his own, taking unnecessary risks as a matter of course. The moment it was all over, Paul had shrugged off the memory of the assault on him. Hannah would dwell on it at length. He racked his brains to find a way to win her back. One obvious way was to plead with her, promising to comply with her wishes while in fact having no intention of doing so. But that would mean their romance would be based on a resounding lie. Sooner or later it would become evident and she would consider the deception to be unforgivable.

Instead of thinking about his own predicament, Paul was moved to consider hers. Hannah was patently troubled. It may have been as a result of their acrimonious parting or it might be that she was ailing in some way. What was depressingly clear to him during the performance the previous night was that she was merely walking through a part she’d hitherto played to the hilt. Was she pining for him or was she ill? Had the former been the case, she’d surely have accepted the flowers as a token of his love so he ruled out that explanation. Hannah must be unwell. That was why she’d struggled onstage. Paul felt impelled to express his sympathy in some way. Yet even as he wondered how, he saw that there was a drawback. To be aware of her sickness, he’d have to admit that he’d been in the audience watching her and he drew back from that. He certainly didn’t wish her to know that he’d joined the others at the stage door and waited for a glimpse of her because it revealed his desperation.

His other dalliances had always come to a natural end, leaving both partners with pleasant memories rather than injured feelings. Paul had never had to cope with an abrupt separation before, hence his confusion over how best to proceed. Hannah Granville was a woman so used to getting her own way that she expected instant obedience to her demands. Whenever someone tried to exert control over his life, Paul responded with defiance. He and Hannah had reached an impasse. His fierce pride was matched by her vanity, his need of independence by her need to control. On balance, therefore, he thought it best to do nothing. To approach Hannah directly would be seen as a sign of weakness and Paul wanted to maintain a position of strength. Fears about her health could be allayed by discreet enquiries. She need never know that he was asking about her.

Meanwhile, he had plenty to keep him occupied. O’Gara and Dagg might not be hiding in Seven Dials but they were certainly somewhere in London and his job was to find them. Dismissing Hannah from his thoughts, Paul set off to renew his search elsewhere.





‘Nothing?’ cried Micah Yeomans in disbelief.

‘Nothing at all, I’m afraid.’

‘Is everyone blind?’

‘They can’t help us, Micah.’

‘What’s the point of paying informers, if they can’t give us the information we need? How many have you spoken to, Alfred?’

‘I’ve talked to dozens of them,’ said Hale.

‘Did you tell them how important it is to find these fugitives?’

‘I did my best to do so.’

‘So why have you come back empty handed?’

‘They’ve let us down.’

‘Then it’s time to bang heads together.’

‘I tried that, Micah.’

‘They’re idiots – every damn one of them!’

‘They’ve helped us in the past.’

‘We need their assistance now.’

The Runners had met at The Peacock. Any hopes that Yeomans had held of good news had been dashed. None of the informers they kept throughout London knew of the whereabouts of the two American prisoners who’d escaped from Dartmoor. Since most of them inhabited the rougher areas of the city, Yeomans had expected that at least one of them would have caught wind of the new arrivals and been able to point the Runners in the right direction.

He drained his tankard of ale and belched loudly. A thought surfaced.

‘Someone is lying, Alfred.’

‘They swore that they’d seen nothing.’

‘What they’ve seen is what the newspapers have told them – there’s a reward for the capture of Tom O’Gara and Moses Dagg and it’s a tempting one. Instead of helping us to find the two Americans, they’ll try to do it on their own account so that they can claim the money for themselves.’

‘I warned them against doing that, Micah.’

‘Then they might do something even worse.’