Now that he’d dispatched Chevy Ruddock on his search, Yeomans felt that he could afford to relax. He and Hale had the greatest confidence in the younger man. When he’d first joined a foot patrol, Ruddock had been raw and inexperienced. They were defects he soon eradicated, going on to become one of the most efficient men under Yeomans’ command. He was powerful, dedicated and tireless. In choosing him, they felt, it was only a matter of time before Clearwater was dragged to the Peacock to be interrogated by the senior Runners.

‘Chevy is the best man we have,’ said Hale.

‘I agree,’ said Yeomans. ‘It’s because I trained him so well.’

‘He thrives on action, Micah. In some ways, he reminds me of how I was when I was that age. I loved it when villains resisted arrest because it gave me the right to use real violence.’

‘Ruddock has only one vice.’

‘I don’t think he knows what vice is,’ said Hale with a snigger. ‘He’s never even sniffed the vices that we’ve enjoyed. Chevy’s too wedded to that wife of his.’

‘His vice is that he respects the Skillen brothers too much.’

‘He’ll grow out of that in time.’

‘Well,’ said Yeomans, ‘you heard him earlier. He told us that Clearwater wouldn’t claim that reward because Peter and Paul Skillen would grab it before him and – this is what upset me – before us.’

‘They won’t do that this time, Micah. You warned Paul Skillen off this case and his brother hasn’t been seen for days. For the first time in ages, we have no real competition – except what we’re getting from Clearwater, that is.’

‘We’ll soon crush his ambitions, Alfred.’

‘I’ll enjoy doing that.’

They replenished their tankards of ale and returned to their table. It was not long before they were interrupted. The door of the inn opened and in strode William Filbert, the oldest member of the foot patrols, a rather doddery, pipe-smoking man with an abundance of unwashed hair. Panting heavily, he’d obviously been running. His face was awash with sweat. He offered a letter to Yeomans.

‘I was told to give you this,’ he said.

Yeomans snatched it from him. ‘Who sent it?’

‘The chief magistrate – Mr Kirkwood said it was urgent.’

Tearing open the missive, Yeomans read it then let out a howl of such fury that everyone in the inn took a precautionary step backwards. The Runner was shaking all over as if in the grip of a fever.

‘What does he say, Micah?’ asked Hale.

‘He says that he’s just had a visit from Sir Roger Mellanby’s son who wants to know if we’ve caught his father’s killer yet or if Peter Skillen is likely to do that before us. And do you know why he asked that?’

‘I’ve no idea.’