Peter also felt slightly embarrassed. His belief that Oxley would be cast aside by the Mellanby family was a misjudgement on his part. The lawyer was patently still in favour. To make matters worse, he’d been carried off in Edmund Mellanby’s private coach. It was vexing.

As he sat there reviewing events, he eventually became aware that someone was standing directly in front of him. He looked up to see that it was Seth Hooper. The man’s face was impassive. He was holding a small package and, after a moment, he gave it to Peter. After a brief handshake, Hooper walked out of the inn, leaving Peter to peel back the pieces of paper. Inside the package, he found a pie and some pickled onions, ammunition against the rigours of the long drive. It was a peace offering. Peter was relieved that they’d parted as friends, after all, and felt that his visit had been thoroughly worthwhile.

There was no point in staying because they’d certainly come back after him. The assassin had to flee. There were compensations. He still had a weapon to defend himself and enough money in his purse to pay for accommodation. London was full of hiding places. Once he’d chosen one, he could begin his search for the man who’d betrayed him and the accomplice who’d tried to kill him. He was already planning a slow and excruciating death for both of them.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Since he was only a short ride away, Paul decided to go back home for a while to see Hannah. The days after a successful production had ended were usually difficult ones for her. With the excitement of performance taken away, she was often morose, if not wholly depressed. The mental fatigue of a long run was complemented by physical exhaustion. In the past, she’d been known to sleep for half the day. As he dismounted from his horse, therefore, Paul was wary. He was more than likely to walk into a stream of complaints punctuated by extravagant yawns. While a servant took charge of the horse, Paul went into the house.

Hearing his footsteps, Hannah leapt to her feet and ran into the hall.

‘Thank heaven you’ve come!’ she exclaimed.

‘It’s nice to be welcomed,’ he said, embracing her.

‘I need you, Paul. Come into the drawing room.’

‘What’s going on?’ he asked, as she pulled him by the hand. ‘And why are you leaping about? I expected to find you dozing.’

‘I’m far too anxious to sleep.’

‘Has something happened?’

‘Yes, I had a visitor.’

‘Who was it?’

‘Dorothea Glenn.’

‘What on earth did she want?’

‘Ostensibly, she came here for advice about her role in our next play. That was simply an excuse to get to me. I soon saw through the deception.’