Jubal Nason hobbled into the court and looked nervously at the tenements around him. They were teeming with noisy life. Various heads popped out of windows to take stock of the stranger. People came and went through the main doors. Children fought battles over territory. A knife grinder sat on a stool and plied his trade with ear-splitting effect. When he tried to speak to people who went past him, Nason was studiously ignored. He was perceived as an intruder and, as such, was shunned. One person, however, did not ignore him. Nason was grabbed from behind, pushed up against a wall and held there immovably.
‘What, in the name of all that’s holy, are you doing here?’
‘I was looking for you, Mr Fallon.’
‘Well, I don’t like being looked for.’
‘You’re hurting me,’ bleated Nason.
‘How did you find out where I lived?’
‘It was a guess.’
‘Tell the truth,’ ordered Dermot Fallon, pressing him harder against the wall.
‘It is the truth. When that dog attacked me, it was no more than forty yards from here so I guessed that you didn’t live far away. I knew there were Irish people living behind Orchard Street so I thought I’d try here first.’ He was unable to stop himself from being turned swiftly around and slammed against the brickwork. ‘I had to see you, Mr Fallon.’
‘Why – what’s happened?’
‘If you let me go,’ spluttered Nason, ‘I’ll explain.’
Fallon released him and stood back to appraise him. Jubal Nason looked as dishevelled and miserable as ever. Smiling nervously, he took a newspaper from his pocket and unfolded it.
‘Have you seen this?’ he asked.
‘Where would I get the money to buy newspapers,’ said Fallon, ‘and how would I find the time to read them?’ He pushed Nason. ‘What does it say?’
‘There’s a reward for the capture of your friends.’
Fallon seized him again. ‘Is that why you’re here, you scheming piece of shite?’ he demanded. ‘Have you come to rat on us?’
‘No, no,’ shouted Nason. ‘I’m here to warn Mr O’Gara and Mr Dagg.’
‘Are you sure you came alone?’
‘Yes, I did. But if I can find you, someone else can so you’d better tell your friends to hide somewhere else. I’m only trying to help, Mr Fallon.’
‘I don’t like being spied on.’
‘People are out looking for your friends. Their names are in the newspaper.’
‘Then they’ll have to be moved,’ said Fallon, letting go of him again. ‘And I suppose I’ll have to thank you. I’d have been caught with Tom and Moses.’
‘The same goes for me. Because I prepared that document, I’ll be seen as a conspirator.’
‘You’re in the clear – we wouldn’t name you.’
‘Tell your friends to get out as soon as possible.’
‘I will. And I’m sorry I had to hurt you a bit.’
Nason shrunk way from him. ‘I wasn’t spying. I needed to raise the alarm.’ A dog came trotting across the court. ‘That’s the wild dog that attacked me in Oxford Street. What’s it doing here?’
‘I caught it and trained it,’ said Fallon with a grin. ‘I’ve a way with dogs and women, Mr Nason. He won’t bite you again.’
The truth slowly dawned on Nason. ‘It’s your dog, isn’t it?’
‘It is now.’
‘You made it attack me then pretended to save me.’
‘Oh, what an evil mind you have,’ said Fallon with mock reproach. ‘There was I, saving you from being bitten through to the bone, and all you can do is to accuse me of trickery. Now shift your carcase before I tell him to take a piece out of your arse.’
‘Don’t do that,’ said Nason, backing away. ‘I’m going.’
‘Good riddance!’
‘You will pass the warning on to your friends, won’t you?’
‘No,’ joked Fallon, ‘I’ll turn the pair of them in and collect the reward.’ He shoved Nason in the chest. ‘Tom is family, you Godforsaken numbskull. Of course, I’ll warn them. Now – go!’
One eye on the dog, Nason scuttled off. As soon as they were out of sight, Fallon raced into the tenement and went up the stairs in bounds. He’d hated being run to ground by Nason but he could see that the man might just have rescued them from the shadow of the gallows.
There were days when Sidmouth found his work excessively tiresome and another one was added to the list when he arrived to find his desk covered in dross and trivia. Tempted to sweep it aside or delegate it, he instead applied himself with his usual vigour and gradually thinned out the pile of documents and seemingly unending correspondence on issues in which he had no interest. At least, he consoled himself, there were no inordinate demands about Dartmoor this time accompanied by threats against his life. All was calm, tedious and monstrously unexciting. It was only when Bernard Grocott came into the room that the Home Secretary found something that aroused his interest at last.