Steps to the Gallows Read Free

clubbed to the ground with the butt of a pistol. Instead of being able to offer protection, Huckvale was in dire need of help himself.
     
    For the first time in weeks, Leonidas Paige was able to walk through the streets of London with complete assurance. There was no need to keep one hand on his dagger or to look over his shoulder every so often. His back was now being protected and he could concentrate his thoughts on his work. He’d already singled out his next victim in the Parliament of Foibles and he chuckled as he envisaged the expression on the man’s face when he eventually saw the print. Paige would be creating a new and dangerous enemy but he was prepared to take that risk. Exposing a cruel and corrupt Member of Parliament was, in his opinion, a public duty. Thanks to Jem Huckvale, he no longer had to worry about his safety. Paige was free to let his mind wander as it devised some doggerel about his latest victim.
    Buoyed up by a false confidence, he continued on his way with a spring in his step. Eventually, he turned down a winding streetand walked the thirty yards or so to his lodging. Using a key to let himself into the house, he went up the rickety staircase and into his room. On the table under the window were his writing materials and he couldn’t wait to put them to use. The moment he sat down, however, he discovered that he had company. Someone put a rope around his neck and pulled it tight. The garrotte was so sudden and unexpected that it was seconds before Paige realised what was happening. Twisting and turning, he tried to pull the rope away from his throat but could not budge it. Intense pressure was being applied and the pain was agonising. He tried to call out for help but his voice was strangled into silence. When he reached for his dagger, he hardly had enough strength left to pull it from its sheath and all the time the rope was biting deep into his neck and constricting his windpipe.
    He squirmed impotently in his chair until he lost consciousness and offered no more resistance as the life was comprehensively squeezed out of him. When he was finally released, Paige lay slumped face down on the table. His killer was not finished yet. On a chest in the corner were several editions of the now defunct Paige’s Chronicle . They were quickly piled around the dead man’s head and set alight. By the time the killer slipped out of the property, all the papers were ablaze.

CHAPTER TWO
    ‘Murdered!’ exclaimed Huckvale. ‘Mr Paige was murdered ?’
    ‘He was garrotted,’ said Peter Skillen.
    ‘But I was hired to protect him. I let him down badly.’
    ‘You had your own attacker to contend with, Jem.’
    ‘Gully will never forgive me,’ wailed Huckvale. ‘Mr Paige was a dear friend of his and I failed to guard him properly. I must go back to the gallery at once and apologise to Gully.’
    As he tried to get out of bed, however, he felt as if he’d been struck on the head once again, causing him to cry out in pain and fall back on the pillow. He was in a bedchamber at Peter’s house, having been carried there when he was discovered in the alleyway. Still groggy and covered in blood, Huckvale had been able to give those who’d come to his aid the address of his friend. Peter and his wife, Charlotte, had been shocked to see the state he was in. They’d summoned a surgeon who’d cleaned the scalp wound and inserted stitches. Huckvale’s skull was now encircled by heavy bandaging. As he tried to work out what must have happened, his brain was racing.
    ‘I was completely fooled,’ he admitted. ‘I thought I was following that man unseen when, all the time, he knew that I was behind him. The moment he had the chance, he vanished fromsight then lurked in ambush. He guessed , Peter. When he saw Mr Paige going into the gallery, he must have guessed that he went in search of a bodyguard.’
    ‘At his age,’ said Peter, ‘Mr Paige certainly wouldn’t come for instruction of any kind. He was