Shadow of the Hangman by Edward Marston Page A

worry – he’ll be hauled before the magistrate to speak his piece.’ After drawing on his pipe for the last time, he tapped out the ash on the bottom of his boot. ‘We’ve set this up well, Alfred. They’ll think they’re alone in the house when, all the time, Simon Medlow is tucked away up in the attic. He’ll give the signal for us tomove in and arrest them.’ He spat into the road. ‘Is everyone ready?’
    ‘I’ve put men at either end of the street and others have been stationed in the adjoining streets. Quite honestly, Micah, we’ve got far too many people. When all is said and done,’ said Hale, ‘there are only two Skillens.’
    ‘Yes, but they’re like bars of soap. Just when you think you’ve caught one of them, he slips out of your fingers.’
    ‘Who will actually make the arrest?’
    Yeomans inflated his chest. ‘
I
will. The snare is all my doing. I want to see them straining to escape from it.’
    ‘What if they suspect a trap?’
    ‘If that were the case, they wouldn’t have gone so readily into Mr Hobday’s house. Have no fear, Alfred. They take their orders from Ackford and he was well and truly gulled by Medlow. So were a lot of other people, mind you,’ he added with a chuckle. ‘Did you know that Medlow once persuaded a wealthy simpleton to buy the River Thames?’ Hale cackled. ‘Then there was the time when he sold tickets to a banquet in Brighton Pavilion hosted by His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent. Those stupid enough to buy them – and there were more than a few – had a nasty shock when they turned up. Simon Medlow is a silver-tongued wizard. He cast his spell on Ackford.’
    ‘He’s a brave man to stay alone in the house with the two brothers.’
    ‘He’s perfectly safe,’ said Yeomans. ‘
We
know he’s there but they don’t.’
    ‘It’s just as well.’
    There was a long wait ahead of them. While Yeomans refilled and lit his pipe, Hale slipped off into a corner to urinate against a wall. He then walked around the entire area and checked that themen they’d recruited from the foot patrol were in position. Many of them were restive, wondering how long they’d have to hang about in the dark. When he suggested that they took their complaints directly to Yeomans, however, they fell silent. Nobody had the courage to tackle him.
    A couple of hours drifted past before the lights in the windows of Hobday’s house were snuffed out. The brothers had clearly retired to bed. It was only a matter of time before a candle would appear in the attic window to confirm that Peter and Paul Skillen were asleep. Yeomans and Hale moved in and those at either end of Upper Brook Street instinctively did the same. The net tightened inexorably.
    The delay, however, was longer than they’d anticipated.
    ‘Why doesn’t Medlow give the signal?’ asked Yeomans, impatiently.
    ‘Perhaps he’s trying to sell them tickets to a banquet in Brighton Pavilion,’ said Hale, collecting a contemptuous glare that made him apologise at once. ‘I’m sorry, Micah.’
    ‘Shut up!’
    ‘It was only a joke.’
    ‘Can you hear me laughing?’
    ‘I’m just trying to kill time,’ bleated Hale.
    He gasped in pain as he was elbowed in the ribs. Yeomans was watching the attic window without blinking an eyelid. When the light finally appeared, he led the charge towards the house. Using a key to open the door, he went furtively inside with Hale at his heels. A cluster of men guarded the exit. Yeomans lifted the shutter on his lantern and created a pool of light. It enabled him and his companion to search the whole of the ground floor. Confident that their quarry were slumbering upstairs, they ascended the steps asquietly as they could and went from bedroom to bedroom, opening each door wide in the hope of finding the two brothers.
    But there wasn’t the slightest hint that they’d even been inside the property. Something had gone wrong and Yeomans was quick to apportion blame. He rounded on