him.
He smelled. And I wondered if there might be lice in the folds of his clothing as we supported him between us.
It took us nearly ten minutes to persuade him that he could walk. Even so, he gagged twice as we got him to his feet.
“Close your eyes,” I told him. “Let us guide you.”
And so we got him moving, slowly taking him through the gorse, stumbling and begging us to stop, once falling to his knees and refusing to stand again.
When we reached the motorcar, he put out a hand to touch it, as if uncertain that it was really there. Then he half stepped, half relapsed into the rear seat.
Five minutes later, we were on our way back to Hartfield.
I was questioning Willy, but he couldn’t remember being attacked or who had taken him to the mill. Groaning, he held his head in his hands, motion sick from the blow.
In the seat next to Simon, Lydia was asking Sophie what had happened to her, but all she would say was that the man had told her he had a cat.
I said to Simon, “How are we to prove any of this?”
“I’ll call London straightaway and get someone down here. Meanwhile, the doctor is dead. Someone ought to take Willy to the one you mentioned from Groombridge.”
I could see that Willy’s wound was bleeding profusely, already soaking through the wool scarf I’d used to bandage it.
When we came to the turning, Simon suggested taking Lydia and the child to Vixen Hill, where Margaret and Henry were waiting for news. “She’ll be safe there.”
We did that, making certain that Henry and his wife knew what to expect, and then Willy, Simon, and I headed toward Hartfield.
We stopped at the Rectory, and Mr. Smyth agreed to convey Willy to Groombridge, and his sister went with him. Mrs. Ellis had fallen into a restless sleep, and I agreed to sit with her. We managed to move Willy to the Smyth motorcar, and then Simon and I were alone, standing there in the windy High Street.
“I must put in a call to London,” he said. “They’ll send someone.”
And he was gone. I stood there in the darkness, feeling the weight of exhaustion overwhelming me. Where was Constable Bates?
Ten minutes later, Simon came back out to where I was waiting. “Bates was Halloran’s mother’s name. Her nephew, one Thomas Bates, was a constable in Cornwall before the war. Apparently he was among the missing on the Somme. Halloran must have assumed his identity, claiming a medical discharge. I expect no one here in Sussex doubted his credentials. If he conducted himself properly, there would be no reason to question them.”
“And who would look for a deserter in a village constable? The police are so shorthanded, thanks to the war. I remember Inspector Herbert complaining about that in London.”
“At any rate, the Army is sending men posthaste to help us find him and take him in charge.”
I went back to the Rectory and found Mrs. Ellis awake and in the parlor, looking for the rector or his sister.
“What’s happened?” she asked, her face white with fear. “Don’t keep it from me!”
I took her into the kitchen and set about making tea, all the while giving her a brief account of what we had discovered.
“Oh, thank God,” she said when I’d finished. “I thought the rector might have gone because-because someone was dead.” After a moment, she went on. “You don’t know-I thought-I thought God was punishing me. Taking her from me a second time. I didn’t want her to pay for my sins.” Then, without warning, she began to cry.
“She’s safe, Mrs. Ellis,” I said. “And no harm came to her. She was a little frightened in the dark, but that was all. There’s nothing to fear.”
“I killed them, you know.” She raised her head to look at me. Tears were streaming down her face. “And when I saw Sophie, I thought God had forgiven me. But he hadn’t. I don’t deserve Sophie.”
I felt cold. “Killed whom?”
“Juliana. And then Alan. They were suffering so, and there was nothing to be done. I couldn’t watch it any longer. The doctor had told me it would be a matter of hours. He gave me laudanum to help me through the end. But I gave a little to Juliana, and she simply went to sleep. It was so quiet, so peaceful. I was so grateful. And I asked for laudanum again when Alan was dying. And I helped him through the end. You’re a nurse, have you never wished for something, anything, to end the pain of those in your charge?”
Swallowing my shock, I said, “It was wrong. You know that.”
“God forgive me, I do. That’s why I was willing to take the blame for the other deaths, I thought I could make amends.”
What to do? Did I call the police and hand this woman over to them? She had lost her husband and buried two children as well. Could it be proved that the amount of laudanum she gave her dying daughter and her dying son had speeded up their deaths? Or changed the manner of their deaths? I wasn’t a doctor, I didn’t know. Perhaps it only eased her to think so.
“Mrs. Ellis.”
“I know. I’ve told you. A nursing sister. I want a little peace, you see. I want to be punished, so that the rest of my family will be safe. Please. Help me.”
“Your family needs you. I can’t give you absolution for what you did. Nor can I hold you accountable, because I wasn’t there. I have only your word, not that of a doctor. You must make your peace in another way. Perhaps Mr. Smyth can help you.”
She broke down again, too tired to stop the tears. And I did what I could to comfort her. When she was quieter, I told her I must find Simon, to see if he or Roger had had any success explaining the situation to Inspector Rother.
“Yes, go see to it,” she said, taking my hand for a moment. “Thank you, Bess.”
I knelt by her chair. “You won’t do anything foolish?”
“No. Sadly, I don’t have the courage. But I think it helped to confess. I’ve held it in so long.”
I left her there to finish her tea, the pot beside her, and walked back to the hotel.
The first person I saw as I came through the door into Reception was Constable Bates. He was walking down the main stairs, as if he were coming from one of the rooms on the floor above. It was an ideal place to stay out of sight, with windows overlooking the street.
My first thought was,
Chapter Nineteen
Bates read my face even before I could speak.
Moving quickly down the remaining stairs, he was coming across Reception directly toward me. And I was all that was between him and the door. And escape.
I stayed where I was, wishing that I still had that small pistol that Simon had once given me.
The hotel clerk stepped out of the inner office, saying, “Miss Crawford?” and for an instant distracted my attention. And in that same moment, Constable Bates walked straight into me and spun me toward the desk. My ribs took the brunt of the blow, and I caught my breath with the pain. And then, with both hands gripping the edge of the desk, ignoring my ribs, I pushed myself away and turned as quickly as I could to go after him, well aware that he had nothing to lose.
Behind me the desk clerk cried, “Miss? Constable?”
I ignored him. Bates was moving briskly toward the motorcar standing in the corner of the inn yard. I thought it was Mrs. Ellis’s vehicle.
He bent to turn the crank, his eyes on me, gauging my approach. The motor caught, and he was behind the
