The Gallows Murders

wished that Benjamin wasn't there. She seemed impervious to me, apart from the odd kind smile or an offer to fill my tankard. Now and again Benjamin would turn, gaze adoringly at her, then return to questioning her father. When he had finished, Benjamin told Pelleter the reason for our visit: the blackmailing letters sent to the King and the grisly murders of the hangmen. Pelleter leaned back in his chair, whispering under his breath and shaking his head.
    'I always thought Undershaft was a good man,' he said quietly. 'So his death was murder.'
    ‘But do you know he's dead?' I asked. I was tempted to tell him how I had seen Undershaft's corpse, but I was fearful this might lower my status in Miranda's eyes.
    Pelleter looked at me, bushy eyebrows raised. 'What makes you think he isn't?'
    I explained about the blackmailing letters: how both Benjamin and I believed there was one villain in the Tower and another outside.
    'In which case I’ll make inquiries,' Pelleter offered. 'I’ll ask the bailiffs and wardsmen to keep their eyes and ears open. But – ' he pointed a finger at Benjamin – 'if I follow the gist of what you are saying, you believe Robert Sakker's involved in this villainy?' ‘Do you think it's possible?' Benjamin retorted.
    'Robert Sakker was the most intelligent member of the gang. He went to Stapleton Hall in Oxford. He was quite skilled as a clerk and served for a while in one of the royal palaces.' 'So, he could draft a letter?' I asked.
    'Possibly, but where would he get the seals of Edward V?' ‘What did he look like?' Benjamin asked.
    ‘Like all his family: tall, dark with reddish hair, cleanshaven, deep-chested; a merry-looking rogue despite the scar on his cheek. The sort who'd smile as he slipped a dagger between your ribs. A man who could act many parts: the boisterous soldier or the crafty clerk.'
    Benjamin and I glanced at each other: the description fitted no one we had met in our inquiries.
    'And so he escaped?' Benjamin continued. 'And has now threatened you?'
    Pelleter put his cup down and spread his hands. 'Master Daunbey, I have no real evidence, but there was an attack on me recently. On two other occasions I've had scraps of parchment pushed into my hands. One was of a gibbet with me dangling from it.' He paused and glanced sideways at his daughter. The second, well, it was my daughter. That's what made me think it was Sakker.'
    That beautiful smile faded from Miranda's lovely face, but I could see the steel in her eyes and the determined set to her jaw. She leaned over and kissed her father on the cheek. (Oh, most fortunate of men!) 'Have you made inquiries?' I asked.
    Pelleter snorted with laughter. 'Of course. I offered rewards, even the prospect of pardon from the Mayor and Aldermen to any felon who could give me the smallest scrap of information.' He shrugged. 'But I couldn't discover anything.'
    ‘What happens if Sakker isn't living in London?' I asked. What if he has returned to his old haunts.'
    The Sakkers' tavern near St Thomas's watering-hole has been torn down,' Pelleter replied. Though they did have a lair: an old hunting lodge deep in the forest.' 'Could we go there?' Benjamin asked.
    Pelleter blew his cheeks out. 'Not today: it's too late and I have other business. But tomorrow at dawn? ‘I’ll meet you at the tavern in Southwark.' He grinned. The Tabard, the place Chaucer's pilgrims left from. Now, sirs, I do have other business.'
    Benjamin and I made our apologies. My master grasped Miranda's hand and kissed it. My heart skipped a beat! She held his fingers much longer than courtesy demanded. She was kind to me, proffering her hand. I lifted my head to murmur how pleasant it had been to meet her, but her gaze had already returned to Benjamin.
    We left Pelleter's house. Benjamin was pleased, rubbing his hands in satisfaction.
    ‘We have flushed a coney from the hay, Roger!' he exclaimed, slapping me on the back. 'Oh, the evidence is meagre, the proof paltry, but I believe Robert Sakker is involved in this villainy.'
    He paused on a corner of an alleyway and watched as two officials of the city seized a wandering pig, thrust it squealing to the ground and cut its throat. I turned away as the hot blood rushed out. 'And Mistress Miranda?' I asked.
    Benjamin's face grew serious; he grasped me by the shoulder. 'An angel, Roger. Have you ever seen such eyes? The sheer harmony of her features!' ‘You were taken by her?' 'Ravished,' he replied. I glanced away,