‘I felt such a relief at being able to do so, Mr Skillen. I love my family, of course, but I’ve never been well treated by them. I’d imagined that father’s death would draw us closer together. That was yet another false hope. And don’t pay any attention to Edmund’s criticism of you,’ he continued. ‘It’s all too characteristic of him. You are performing a great service for us. I’ll pray for your success.’

‘I appreciate that.’

After shaking hands with him, Peter alighted from the curricle then waved him off. He waited until the vehicle had turned a corner before going into the public house. But for the landlord, the place was almost empty. The man was wiping the bar counter with a cloth. When he saw the visitor enter, he stopped.

‘I’m a friend of Seth Hooper’s,’ said Peter.

‘We all know who you are, sir, and you’re welcome.’

‘I’m coming to the meeting this evening.’

‘Then you’ll hear Seth speak. He’s to tell us what happened in London. Seth’s a grand lad. He has a way with words.’

Peter hoped that his presence wouldn’t inhibit Hooper. There’d been no sign of his eloquence so far. Crossing to the bar counter, he weighed up the landlord. The man was in his fifties, short, bearded, running to fat and with a face that was resolutely set in an expression of disapproval. Yet there was cordiality in his voice and, without being asked, he offered Peter a tankard of beer.

‘Oh – thank you very much.’

‘You’ll not be allowed to buy a drink here, Mr Skillen. It’s free to you.’

‘We might have to argue about that.’

The landlord was blunt. ‘You’ll lose, believe me.’

‘Are all the meetings held here?’ asked Peter, looking around.

‘Each and every one – we’re of the same mind at the Black Horse.’

‘Unity is important.’

‘That was one of Sir Roger’s sayings. We’ll miss him.’

‘How often are the meetings held?’

‘Oh, it’s once a week at least.’

‘Who’s the main speaker when Sir Roger isn’t here?’

‘That would be Seth. He talks our language.’

‘And who is allowed to attend the meetings?’

‘Only those who truly believe in our avowed policy,’ said the other. ‘Strangers are turned away. We want no eavesdroppers.’

‘So you’ve never had someone outside Nottingham coming by chance?’

‘It only happened once, Mr Skillen – at the last meeting, as it happens. We were taken by surprise, to be honest. He’d never been in the Black Horse before, but we could hardly turn him away. Sir Roger wouldn’t have let us.’

‘Why not?’

‘It was his son, Edmund.’