‘He’s been waiting far too long,’ she said, pushing him towards the stairs. ‘Go on up there and do business with him.’
Nason mounted the steps with trepidation. Gentlemen were not in the habit of seeking his expertise. He dealt mostly with the lower orders, ignorant people who wanted him to write letters on their behalf or advise them about minor points of law. Educated clients were rare.
‘How do you do?’ he said, entering the room.
‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Nason,’ said the visitor, rising from the chair. ‘My name is Peter Skillen and I believe that you can help me.’
There was no handshake. Nason was too nervous to offer one and Peter kept his hands clasped behind his back. After they’d weighed each other up, Peter sat down again. Nason shuffled his feet.
‘What can I do for you, Mr Skillen?’
‘I need information about some of your clients.’
‘Then you’ve come to the wrong place,’ said Nason, stuffily. ‘I regret to say that I’m unable to help you. Good day to you, sir.’
‘This is an exceptional case.’
‘To my mind, there is no such thing. I will not break a bond.’
‘Then you must prepare to end your days on the scaffold, Mr Nason,’ said Peter, coldly. ‘When you get there, you can renew your acquaintance with Thomas O’Gara and Moses Dagg.’
Nason was stunned. Eyes glassy and legs unsteady, he collapsed onto the stool in the corner of the room. Beads of sweat broke out on his brow and his breathing became laboured. Having tried to save his skin by warning the fugitives to hide elsewhere, he’d come back home only to face arrest. His upper lip began to twitch ungovernably.
‘Who are you?’ he croaked.
‘I’m not sure,’ replied Peter. ‘I could be friend or foe.’
‘What brought you here?’
‘I saw the document that you drafted, Mr Nason.’
‘You must be mistaken, sir.’
‘Oh, I think not. You have a very distinctive hand. Your wife was kind enough to show me other examples of it. When I studied the document sent to Viscount Sidmouth, I noted its idiosyncrasies. They are present in everything you write. I know that you must have delivered it to the Home Office yourself because O’Gara and Dagg are strangers to London and would have no idea where the building was. You, on the other hand, most definitely would.’ He smiled. ‘Am I right, sir?’
‘They made me do it, sir,’ wailed Nason. ‘I was forced into it.’
‘Why did O’Gara and Dagg turn to you?’
‘They didn’t, Mr Skillen. Dermot Fallon brought them here. He’s O’Gara’s cousin and as villainous a man as you could wish to meet.’
‘You’d better tell me the whole story.’
Mastering his nerves, Nason tried to compose his thoughts. There was no hope of deceiving his visitor with a plausible tale. The man knew too much. Also, there was a steely authority in his gaze that made Nason uneasy. Only the full truth would suffice. He began slowly and gathered pace as he went along. Nothing was omitted. He explained why he’d been dismissed by the lawyer for whom he’d worked and how difficult it was to earn a regular income now that his reputation had been stained. He also described how he’d been gulled by Fallon when apparently at the mercy of a mad dog. That incident had led to the Irishman’s second appearance in his life.
‘I rue the day that I met that silver-tongued rogue,’ he said, vehemently.
‘I don’t blame you, Mr Nason.’
‘If he hadn’t singled me out as a victim, I wouldn’t have been involved in any way with escaped prisoners from Dartmoor. They were three desperate men, sir. I was too frightened to turn them down.’
‘I can understand that,’ said Peter. ‘What puzzles me is why – having done their bidding – you didn’t report them so that they could be arrested.’
‘I was threatened with repercussions.’
‘What manner did they take?’
‘Fallon said that, if I dared to betray them, his friends would hang me up naked to skin me alive and do vile things to my wife that I couldn’t, in the name of decency, repeat. It was no idle threat, Mr Skillen. I was terrified.’ He eyed Peter anxiously. ‘You know it all now, sir.’
‘Then the first thing I must do is to congratulate you.’
Nason was astonished. ‘Congratulate me?’
‘Yes,’ said Peter, ‘what you produced was an extraordinary document, far better than anything the fugitives could have managed by themselves. The narrative was crystal clear, the demands were supported by evidence and the whole thing was couched in your inimitable handwriting. Only one thing besmirched it and that was the threat against the life of the Home Secretary.’