Jack strode forward, glancing at the wreckage of the study, and his face paled.
“McGinley,” Pitt said, meeting his eyes. “There was an explosion—dynamite, I should think.”
“Is he … dead?”
“Yes.”
Jack put his arm around Emily and held her, and she began to cry, but softly, as of relief, the terror slipping out of her.
O’Day came forward to stand almost between them, his face grim. They must all be able to smell the smoke now.
“Where the devil is the footman with the water?” Pitt shouted. “Do you want the whole house on fire?”
“Here, sir!” The man materialized almost at his elbow, staggering a little under the weight and awkwardness of two buckets of water. He moved past Pitt to where the curtain was now rising slightly and gusting out towards them on the draft from the broken windows, and they heard the furious hiss of steam as he threw the water, then the smoke belched and lessened. He came out covered in smut and with his face scalded bright pink.
“More water!” he gasped, and two other footmen ran to obey.
Pitt stood in the doorway, shielding the sight behind him. Everyone seemed to be present, white-faced, shocked and frightened. Tellman came forward.
“McGinley,” Pitt said again.
“Dynamite?” Tellman asked.
“I think so.” Pitt looked to see Iona. She was standing between Fergal and Padraig Doyle. Perhaps she had already guessed the truth from Pitt’s face, and the fact that Lorcan was not in the hall while everyone else was.
Eudora moved towards her.
Iona stood still, shaking her head from side to side. Padraig put his arm around her.
“What happened?” Fergal asked, frowning, trying to see beyond Pitt. “Is it a fire? Is anyone hurt?”
“For God’s sake, man, didn’t you hear the noise?” O’Day demanded angrily. “It was an explosion! Dynamite, by the sound of it.”
Fergal looked startled. For the first time he noticed Iona’s fear. He swung around to glare at Pitt, the question in his face.
“I am afraid Mr. McGinley is dead,” Pitt said grimly. “I don’t know what happened beyond the fact that the explosion seemed to center behind Mr. Radley’s desk. The fire is incidental. The blast blew the coals out of the grate and they fell onto the carpet.”
As he spoke a footman came struggling back with more water, and he stood aside for him to pass.
“Are you sure there is nothing I can do for McGinley?” Piers asked anxiously.
“Quite sure,” Pitt assured him. “Perhaps you could help Mrs. McGinley.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” He moved back and approached Iona gently, talking to her as if there were no one else there, his voice quivering only very slightly.
Padraig Doyle walked over to Pitt, his face creased with concern.
“A bomb in Radley’s study,” he said with his back to the others so they could not hear. “And it exploded and caught poor Lorcan. It is a very bad business, Pitt. In the name of the devil, who put it there?”
“In the same name, Doyle, what was McGinley doing in there?” O’Day said grimly, looking around each in turn as if he thought someone might answer him.
Iona was silently clenching and unclenching her hands. Fergal had moved closer to her and surreptitiously slid his arm around her shoulders.
“Looking for Radley?” Padraig suggested, his eyes sharp and dark. “Borrowing paper, ink, wax, who knows?” He turned to Finn Hennessey, who was struggling to his feet with the assistance of the same footman who had held him before. “Do you know why Mr. McGinley was in Mr. Radley’s study?” Padraig asked.
Finn was still dizzy, blinking; his face was dark, smudged with dust, and his clothes were covered in it. He seemed barely able to focus.
“Yes sir,” he said huskily. “The dynamite …” He swiveled to stare at the shattered study door and the clouds of dust and smoke.
“He knew the dynamite was there?” Padraig said incredulously.
“Is he … dead?” Finn stammered.
“Yes,” Pitt answered him. “I’m sorry. Are you saying McGinley knew the dynamite was there?”
Finn turned towards him, blinking. It was obvious he was still dazed and probably suffering physical as well as emotional shock. He nodded slowly, licking dry lips.
“Then why in God’s name didn’t he send for help?” O’Day said reasonably. “Anyway, how did he know?”
Finn stared at him. “I don’t know how he knew, sir. He just told me … to stand guard, not to let anyone go into the study. He said he knew more about dynamite than anyone else here. He’d be the best person to deal with it.” He looked at O’Day, then at Pitt.
“Then who put it there?” Kezia asked, her voice rising towards panic. She swung around, staring at each of them.
