Browne stood back so that the sergeant could pass him. As soon as the man had his back to him, Browne struck him hard across the back of his head, sending him to the floor, then administered two more crushing blows to knock him unconscious. Grabbing a bunch of keys from their peg, Browne quickly opened a door that led to a passageway and a second one that led to the cells. He then ran along to the cell at the end and tried various keys in the lock.
Adeline was overjoyed. ‘Bagsy!’
‘We have to move fast.’
‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’
‘One good turn deserves another.’ He found the right key and the door opened. ‘Off we go, Ad. I’ve got transport waiting for you.’
They rushed down the corridor and out of the cell block. But the escape plan suddenly faltered. Having finished his discussion upstairs, Tallis had come down and found the duty sergeant on the floor. Realising that there was an escape bid, Tallis stood up and filled the doorway.
‘Out of the way!’ ordered Browne, brandishing his stick.
‘Give that to me,’ retorted Tallis.
‘I did warn you.’
He began to belabour Tallis who stood there bravely and took most of the blows on his arms. Eventually, he managed to grab the stick and wrench it from Browne’s grasp. The latter was infuriated. Pulling out his dagger, he threatened Tallis with it but the superintendent stayed his ground. The commotion had brought Steel out of his office and roused a policeman in the back room. Both came to investigate. Desperate to get away, Browne dived at Tallis and thrust the dagger into his arm. All resistance vanished. With a cry of pain, Tallis clutched the wound, allowing Browne to push him out of the way so that he and Adeline could step over the body of the duty sergeant and run out of the building. The policeman went after them but he was too slow. Before he could get close to them, they’d clambered on to the cart and driven away at speed through the streets of Exeter.
Steel, meanwhile, tried to revive the fallen man and was relieved when the duty sergeant began to regain consciousness. Turning his attention to Tallis, he helped him to stem the bleeding from the wound. Steel was penitent. He’d set a trap for Browne but had failed to catch him. He’d not only lost a prisoner and had one of his men knocked out in the process, he’d contrived to have the Scotland Yard detective in charge of the investigation stabbed.
‘Damn you, Bagsy Browne!’ he swore. ‘I’ll get you for this.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Frances Impey was close to despair. She’d lived alone before and was quite capable of looking after herself but the situation was very different now. Her sister had been incarcerated in the County Asylum. It was humiliating. When Agnes Rossiter had scandalised everyone in the cathedral by her antics at the altar, Frances hadn’t been there to witness it and was therefore unaware of the full horror of the spectacle. Her sister’s second act of madness had occurred when Frances was standing beside her. One moment they were walking serenely through the city, the next her sister was smashing a window with a stone and climbing through it. All that Frances could remember was passing out on the cobbles. When the smelling salts brought her round again, her sister was howling piteously in the grip of two policemen. Such memories would haunt Frances for ever. It had been a shock to see her beloved sister taken off to Exminster but, in truth, Frances knew that she could never look after her at home.
She was far too afraid to venture out to church that morning. While she wanted to pray for her sister’s recovery, she feared the pointed fingers and the murmured comments from other members of the congregation. There was no hiding the disgrace. Everyone would know by now. Even those who offered sympathy would be treating her with more caution, as if she might somehow infect them with her sister’s mental disorder. Limited as it had been, her social life was virtually extinct. Frances would henceforth be the source of whisperers.
As she sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea untouched beside her, she brooded on the future. Though dismayed at the dramatic change in her own life, her thoughts were largely centred on her sister. How long would she be detained? Would she ever be let out? If so, what sort of condition would she be in? In the past, Agnes Rossiter had been the wage-earner and the more forceful character. She would be neither if she was released from the asylum. Who would even consider employing a woman with her medical history? What sort of life would the two sisters lead? The problem was that the madness had a public dimension. Its effects had been seen in the cathedral and outside the undertaker’s. It was the stuff of general discussion now. Frances could see only one mode of survival. If her sister was finally discharged, they would have to move out of Exeter. But the asylum cast a very long shadow.
Would they ever be able to outrun it?
Frances was still deep in thought when there was a knock on the door. It startled her. Who could possibly want to visit a house of shame? At first, she tried to ignore the caller, but a second and third knock showed that the person knew she was inside. Plucking up her courage, she went to the front door, opened it a few inches and peered nervously through the gap.
‘Hello, Miss Impey,’ said Dorcas, smiling gently. ‘How are you?’
‘Oh, it’s you, Miss Hope.’ She opened the door wider to check that nobody else was there. ‘You’re on your own, I see.’
‘I just came to offer help.’
Frances was suspicious. ‘What sort of help?’
‘Well, you may want someone to do the shopping for you or help with jobs around the house. I know that Mrs Rossiter did so much when she was here. You may find it difficult to manage on your own.’
‘Yes, I might.’
‘You know where I live. All you have to do is to ask.’
‘Thank you, Miss Hope. That’s very kind of you.’
‘I have to work at the refreshment room, of course,’ said Dorcas, ‘but I do have some free time each day. I must say that we miss your sister at the railway station. Mrs Rossiter was such an efficient manageress.’
‘Agnes was efficient at everything she did — unlike me.’
‘It may be that you just feel the need for company.’
‘At the moment, to be honest, I just wish to be alone.’
‘I can understand that. I won’t bother you any longer.’
‘It was so kind of you to call.’
‘I’ll come again when you’ve … settled down.’
‘I suppose they’re all talking about Agnes,’ said Frances, meekly.
‘Mrs Rossiter was in our prayers in church this morning. However,’ said Dorcas, ‘I don’t wish to intrude. I’ve made my offer and I hope that you’ll take advantage of it. I owe a lot to Mrs Rossiter. She taught me everything.’
With a smile of farewell, Dorcas withdrew and walked away. Frances closed the door and went back to the kitchen. She had a friend. She was not quite so isolated, after all. The visit had been brief but it had brought immense reassurance. She was touched by the sincerity of the offer of help. Dorcas Hope would help her through the nightmare that lay ahead. She had someone to whom she could turn. Though it was now stone cold, Frances was at last able to drink her cup of tea.
The wound had needed several stitches and his blood had soaked the sleeves of his shirt and frock coat. The encounter with Browne had also shaken Tallis up. He was sitting in a chair in his room at the tavern. The doctor had just left but Colbeck and Leeming were bending over him in concern. Neither of them had ever believed he would feel so sorry for Tallis. He was pale, drawn and somehow reduced in size. One of his arms was heavily bandaged and supported by a sling. Their sympathy was edged with admiration. It was clear that Tallis had shown great courage in taking on Browne. He was wearing a dressing gown now, but they’d seen the ugly bruises on both arms when he’d been attended by the doctor. Tallis obviously felt embarrassed to be a patient. He shooed them back with a nod of his head.
‘You don’t need to stand over me,’ he said. ‘You’d be more use joining in the search for the villain who did
