‘Yes, of course,’ said Paul, taking some money from his purse and pressing it into the old man’s hand. ‘Enjoy a drink on me. And thank you for your help. What you’ve told me may turn out to be of great value. Goodbye.’

Seth Hooper was disappointed to hear that Peter was planning to leave Nottingham late that evening. Having him there had been a source of comfort for Hooper and his fellow radicals. They felt that they had somebody on their side and, moreover, that he would be a link between them and the Mellanby family. Peter was sorry to have to shatter their expectations.

‘Things have changed dramatically, Mr Hooper,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid that you can no longer rely on the cooperation of the family. Sir Roger’s elder son has no sympathy with your cause and neither does his daughter. Don’t look to either of them for support.’

‘What about the younger son?’

‘David Mellanby is a man of compassion who believes in the cause his father espoused. In essence, he approves of what you’re doing in his wake but is unable to take an active part in your activities. He has his hands full with the duties of his calling and, if he were seen to be involved in politics, he’s likely to get a stern reprimand from his archdeacon, if not from the Bishop of Nottingham.’

‘We don’t want to get him into trouble,’ said Hooper.

‘You’ll have to settle for his tacit support.’

‘What does that mean, Mr Skillen?’

‘He can’t speak out in public but is on your side in private.’

They were in the tiny living room of Hooper’s house. The brush-maker’s wife and mother-in-law had been banished while the visitor was there. Early that morning, Hooper had taken them both to church where they’d prayed for the soul of Sir Roger Mellanby. For most of the city, Sunday had been a day of rest, but Hooper had spent hours of it in discussion with other members of the local Hampden Club. He was sad to lose Peter.

‘We’ll miss you, Mr Skillen,’ he said.

‘The feeling is mutual.’

‘I’m sorry we couldn’t offer you better hospitality.’

‘You made me feel welcome,’ said Peter, ‘and that’s the most important thing. I enjoyed my night at the Black Horse – until some of the rowdier customers started to sing. The landlord said that Saturday night is always noisy.’

‘It’s got quieter of late. Lots of lads are out of work and have no money to spend on drink. Unless the government does something about places like this, it can only get worse.’ He forced a smile. ‘Thank you for speaking at our meeting. You did very well.’

‘I’m told that you did even better after I’d gone. You’re a good orator.’