Looking the part was essential. He’d seen the patrons flooding into the Covent Garden Theatre on many occasions. In order to mingle with them, he needed the finest garments from his wardrobe. He chose a short, square-cut white vest with small lapels and a single-breasted waistcoat. Buttoned at the side, his pantaloons were tight and reached the middle of his calves. He wore tasselled Hessians on his feet. At his neck was a black stock. His blue coat had broad swallowtails and was cut away squarely at the waist with large buttons of crystal silver. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he was impressed at how elegant a figure he cut. The disguise would allow him to mix easily with the most stylish of dandies. Some items in his apparel didn’t fit him perfectly, but then, the person from whom he’d stolen them had slightly different dimensions so Scattergood was prepared to forgive him.

He was in the audience bewitched by the magic of Hannah Granville that evening. As if attesting her ownership of the role of Lady Macbeth, she played the part to the hilt. Scattergood was amongst those who clapped until their hands began to ache. Ignoring the comic afterpiece, he left the theatre and went round to the stage door with a crowd of panting admirers, listening to their conversations to pick up every nugget of information he could.

‘I was here last night,’ said one man, ‘when someone was shot dead.’

‘Heavens!’ exclaimed his companion.

‘It could have been me.’

‘What a frightening thought!’

‘I wouldn’t say that. If I could choose the manner of my death, what better way to quit this world than at the feet of Hannah Granville as she came out of that stage door? If that happened, I’d die in ecstasy.’

Most of what Scattergood heard was inconsequential chatter but there were others who been there on the previous night. Each had his story to tell and every detail was noted by him. Care had been taken to make a repetition of the outrage almost impossible. Extra lanterns had been hung so that the area was brightly lit and two armed men were stationed outside the stage door. More than one person who tried to bribe his way into the theatre was turned roughly away. The sound of loud protests behind him made Scattergood turn round in time to see a broad-shouldered man pushing his way through the crowd. Though he recognised the newcomer as one of the Skillen brothers, Scattergood couldn’t be sure which one it was. What he did know, however, was that during his long career, Peter and Paul Skillen were the only people who had ever managed to arrest him.