On the walk back to their house, Peter and Charlotte Skillen had their servant in tow so it was not possible to have a proper conversation about the misadventure. When they got home, however, and when Meg Rooke had returned to her domestic duties, they were able to tell their respective stories.
‘I failed,’ admitted Peter. ‘I thought that I’d caught one of the kidnappers in the act but all I’d done was to apprehend an innocent woman who’d been offered money for receiving and passing on a purse.’
‘So you didn’t see the purse being given to someone else.’
‘No, Charlotte. The park was too crowded.’
‘Yes, my view was often obscured.’
‘The gentleman is hopping mad and blames me for ruining everything. We’re no closer to identifying the people who abducted Mrs Horner.’
‘That’s not exactly true, Peter.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Unlike you, I did see the exchange – or at least, I think I did. As soon as that woman took the purse from him, she walked straight towards a second woman and seemed to brush past her. That’s when the purse would have changed hands.’
‘I’m sure that you’re right.’
‘The second woman headed for the trees and walked within yards of me. She was joined by a man who came out of hiding and escorted her quickly towards the exit. I only had a glimpse of him but I did see the woman’s face.’
Peter was excited. ‘And you recognised her?’
‘Oh, yes, I knew her at once.’
‘Who was she?’
‘Her name is Jane Holdstock and she took archery lessons from Gully. I spoke to her on one occasion. She’s the last person you’d expect of being a kidnapper. On the other hand,’ she added, thoughtfully, ‘she’s equally unlikely to want instruction in the use of a bow and arrow.’
David Beyton was so confused that he walked straight past the Home Office. It was only when he crossed a road that he saw what he’d done. Turning around, he decided that he needed time to recover before facing his colleagues again. Otherwise, one of them was bound to notice his obvious distress and the fact that his hands were trembling uncontrollably. Peter Skillen had let him down badly. That was how he viewed the situation. In seeking the help of the detective, he’d relied on comments made about him by the Home Secretary and decided that, if Sidmouth saw fit to employ Skillen, there was no better man in London. Beyton’s assessment of him was different. He believed that the detective was solely responsible for the loss of the money. Having someone to blame was a form of consolation.
It was several minutes before he felt able to return to his work at the Home Office. Letting himself back into the building, he exchanged a few words with one of the junior clerks then had a short conversation with Bernard Grocott as the latter emerged from Sidmouth’s room. In spite of his misgivings, Beyton didn’t attract any undue attention or awkward questions. What everyone else saw was the quiet, sober, dedicated senior clerk. Having missed so much of the day, he tried to make amends by staying at his desk when his colleagues began to drift out of the building. When he looked through the window, he could see Micah Yeomans and Alfred Hale coming to collect the Home Secretary. Once the three of them had departed, Beyton knew that he was the only person in the building.
Instead of being able to relax, however, he was assailed by demons yet again so he found work to occupy his mind: writing a series of letters then reading all the documents put on his desk for consideration. Hours raced past. When he checked his watch and saw how late it was, he decided to go home. It was only when he reached the front door that he noticed the letter laying on the mat. The familiar handwriting made his stomach lurch and his heart pound. Snatching it up, he opened the letter and read the new demand that it contained.
Then he slumped to the floor in a dead faint.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When they escorted Viscount Sidmouth back to his house, they said nothing about the intelligence that had fallen into their lap for fear that he would insist on passing it on to Peter and Paul Skillen. Instead of helping the brothers, Yeomans and Hale were bent on displacing them and regaining their status. Once they’d done their duty as bodyguards, they repaired to The Peacock. When he saw that Chevy Ruddock was already there, Yeomans ordered Hale to buy a drink for the younger man. All three of them then adjourned to a table in the corner and nursed their tankards.
‘What else did you find out?’ asked Yeomans.
‘I discovered that the fight is usually a bloodbath,’ said Ruddock with a shiver. ‘The boxers don’t abide by Broughton Rules. They make their own up as they go along.’