‘I’d rather not discuss it wi’ a lady.’

‘I’m not as delicate as I may look,’ she told him with a smile. ‘During my time here, we’ve handled cases of kidnap, fraud, theft, forgery, rape, robbery with violence and worse. I’ve learnt to take gruesome details in my stride.’

‘If it’s all the same to you, I’d still rather talk to Mr Skillen.’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Man to man, as it were …’

Right on cue, she heard footsteps descending the stairs and went out into the hall in time to see her husband bidding farewell to his pupil, a willowy youth with staring eyes. Once he’d left, she told Peter that they had a visitor who had obviously come with a serious problem he refused to divulge to her.

‘Leave him to me, Charlotte,’ he said.

After giving her an affectionate squeeze, he went into the room and introduced himself to the stranger. Hooper was on his feet at once, shaking the outstretched hand as if drawing water from a village pump. Peter could see and feel the man’s grief.

‘How may I help you?’ he asked.

‘My friend were shot dead.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, Mr Hooper.’

‘He went out last night and never came back. When I heard rumours of a murder, I knew it must be him. He’d never miss a meeting. It’s not in his character.’

‘What’s the name of your friend?’

‘Sir Roger Mellanby.’

‘Ah,’ said Peter with interest. ‘I’ve heard good things about him. He’s a Member of Parliament, isn’t he?’

‘Aye, and he were the only decent man in that madhouse,’ said Hooper with sudden fury. ‘That’s the reason he were put down.’

CHAPTER FOUR

Hannah had changed her mind. Stung by the thought that someone might replace her as Lady Macbeth – even for a mere two performances – she decided that she would return to the company, after all. Before that, she needed a long sleep to restore her strength and spirits. Paul took her up to the bedroom and waited until she’d climbed between the sheets. Within minutes of placing her head on the pillow, she was fast asleep, allowing him to bestow a gentle kiss on her brow before creeping out of the room and closing the door silently behind him. Paul went downstairs, put on his coat and hat, then left the house. Intending to ride to the shooting gallery, he was confronted by the sight of an unexpected and decidedly unwelcome visitor. Micah Yeomans was alighting from a cab.

‘Have you come to arrest me again?’ taunted Paul.

‘No, Skillen, I’m here to warn you.’

‘What am I supposed to have done now?’