But if The Countess could not move, then they were both trapped in the laboratory. Adelia could not leave The Countess alone with the risk of Oscar coming down this way. She went to the door to the main part of the castle and opened it. She began to shout for help at the very top of her voice, abandoning any decorum or dignity.
The Countess cried out. Adelia did not have time to move before she was shoved hard in the back by two strong hands tumbling her out into the corridor. She fell to her knees as Oscar ran past her, and she took a moment to catch her breath and get up. Servants were running up to her, and she began to scream and point, “Follow him!”
Most of them followed her direction, but one pale maid dithered in fear and as soon as Adelia was back on her feet, she said to that maid, “Come with me! The Countess needs us.”
“My lady.”
They ran back into the laboratory. “Are you hurt? What did he do?” Adelia cried out.
“He ran past me.”
“Yes but did he do anything as he went?”
“No, of course not.” The Countess looked at Adelia like she had said the stupidest thing.
“But you cried out.”
“I was warning you. Did you stop him?”
Adelia snapped. “Would I be standing here like this if I had? I have sent the servants after him.”
“And a bunch of moon-faced donkeys they are, too. So we’ve lost the man, after all this.”
Adelia nearly dismissed the quivering maid at her side. If they were such moon-faced donkeys, The Countess wouldn’t want their assistance now, would she? But Adelia sighed, and swallowed her indignation, much as Lady Agnes must have been doing for many long years. The Countess was an old lady and in a great deal of pain.
Still, she could wait a little longer for help, Adelia thought nastily. She was not about to die. She crossed the room and went to each window of the circular tower in turn, trying to see if the men outside had been alerted by Mrs Carstairs yet.
There was movement by the ice house.
Adelia wrestled with the rusted catch of the leaded windows and finally flung the casement open. She leaned out and tried to call to them, but she was too far up and she could only watch helplessly as events unfolded on the ground below.
A lean, lithe male figure in a dark suit sprinted from the castle and she knew it was Oscar even without seeing his face because he wasn’t dressed as a servant and he was the youngest, fittest man in the place. Nor was he the policeman, who must surely have been alerted to the palaver and must even now be running to help. Oscar was heading across the lawn by the shortest way, and going into the stand of bushes around the ice house. She caught glimpses of him then as he made his way towards the humped structure.
She thought that he went inside it.
She leaned out of the window as far as she was able to, and spotted Mrs Carstairs coming from the right. Mrs Carstairs must have come out of the front door, and something caught her attention about a hundred yards to one side of the ice house. She hurried that way, and dotted in and out of sight as she wove between the hedges and shrubs of the gardens. Adelia could hear voices on the breeze, and see arms waving in amongst the greenery, and then there were more running, more suited figures, all tweedy and well-disguised in the undergrowth, heading towards the ice house at last.
The ice house exploded.
She felt it rather than saw it, closing her eyes for a long second before daring to open them.
Adelia screamed and she heard, through her cries, The Countess behind her, demanding to know what was going on in her high and querulous voice. Adelia didn’t even turn around. She stretched out, gripping the window frame, trying to see what was happening, and praying: Don’t let Oscar Brodie be dead, the little cheating murdering coward – he has to pay for what he’s done!
She was unsure as to the properly Christian stance on the matter, but she’d deal with that later. Her feelings were tending rather more to the eye-for-an-eye stuff than the turn-the-other-cheek at this particular moment.
Flames danced in amongst the greenery, snapping and popping as the long dry summer had made kindling of the sticks on the ground, in spite of the recent rain. Every few seconds, a louder and more booming explosion sounded from the depths of the ice house, or at least, where it used to be. As the flames shifted, she could see jutting black structures and the edges of the walls where the roof had been.
Then a strange shape emerged from the undergrowth around the ice house. It was as tall as a man, but just as wide as a man’s height, with extra limbs. Through her unexpected tears, she blinked, and realised it was one man carrying another. Then the man who was bearing the other man stopped and wavered, and as he collapsed, everyone else – the servants, the other men, Mrs Carstairs and the policeman – surged forward to surround them both, and everything was lost to Adelia’s view.
Twenty-eight
The acrid smell scorched the back of Theodore’s throat as he leaped forward. He was not in time to catch Captain Everard as he fell, and the limp body of Oscar Brodie tumbled to the ground.
“Get back – get everyone back!” Theodore cried. “This air is poisonous, and soon they will be overcome! Go back to the house!”
But no one moved until Theodore whirled around and pointed to each person in turn, making eye contact. “You – you! Take the person next to you and get back to the house now. You! Take him, and go. Now you!” As the first few stepped away, the rest followed.
Theodore fell to his
