Dimly, I became aware of the unpleasant cold seeping through my clothes, and I wished someone would pick me up, strip me down and lay me before a nice warm fire.
I think I passed out then, for my next recollection was Mrs Fairacre kneeling in the road beside me, with no concern for the mud and the streams of water running down the road. Her firm, expert hands felt every inch of me, and then she turned to Roberta and the professor, who were standing nearby. "Nothing broken, thank goodness."
"Will he live?" demanded Roberta.
"He's bruised and battered, but yes indeed. Come, let's get him to his feet."
I cried out in pain as they helped me up, for my entire body was aflame. Slowly, with Roberta supporting one side and Mrs Fairacre the other, we limped towards the house, every step a shooting agony.
"Brandy," said the professor. "He must have brandy."
"Did you leave any?" Roberta asked him.
"My dear, I am never without." The professor hurried ahead, and by the time I reached the sitting room he had a large glass brimming with spirits. He held it to my mouth and I took a deep draught, and after that my body really was aflame, only this time it was from the inside out. I coughed and spluttered, and the professor tried to help by thumping me on the back.
This caused me even more pain, and Mrs Fairacre knocked his hand aside. "Are you trying to kill the boy, you old fool?"
The professor retreated, and Mrs Fairacre looked me up and down. "Those clothes will have to come off, and you'll need warming." She nodded towards the glowing embers in the fireplace. "Professor, will you wake Elsie and get her to build up a fire?"
"Oh, don't trouble her!" said Roberta. "I will tend to it myself."
"Good lass," said the housekeeper. "Now, let's see about these things."
Then, to my discomfort, she removed my coat and shirt, while behind us Roberta stoked the fire until it was blazing. Next went my trousers, and as I stood there in my underthings, I felt Mrs Fairacre's hands exploring my ribs. "You're going to be a riot of bruises," she remarked. "Roberta, will you fetch this young man some clothes?"
Roberta nodded, and left the room.
"What sort of fool crosses the road without looking first?" Mrs Fairacre asked me. "You'll be no sort of husband to that girl if you're dead, will you?"
Sore and bruised as I was, I still managed to turn my head to stare.
"Oh come now," said the housekeeper briskly. "I wasn't born yesterday. You and she will make a perfect match one day, and don't you worry about the professor. He may think his daughter'll do well with some hoity toity lordship or other, but Roberta wasn't born to that nonsense."
Stunned into silence, I could only stand there, swaying slightly in the heady warmth of that room. At that moment Roberta came back with my clothes, and she averted her eyes as I dressed. By now the brandy was taking effect, and despite the heavy knock I was beginning to feel like my old self once more. Briefly, I wondered whether the professor's brandy contained something extra, because he kept saying it was a restorative and that most certainly appeared to be the case. But that was a question for later, because at this moment we had more important matters to deal with.
Once dressed, I turned to Roberta. "Come, let us find that spirit and capture it."
"You cannot possibly venture out after that terrible accident!" she said. "Why, I saw you thrown ten feet through the air!"
I flexed my arms and raised my feet one by one, trying not to wince at the pain. "As you can see, I am perfectly fine," I lied. "Please, we must catch that spirit, for I would never forgive myself if it escaped thanks to my own foolish error."
"If you're quite sure…" began Roberta. "I mean, it's very brave of you."
I saw the look of admiration in her eye, and at that moment I dare say I would have ventured from that room with four broken limbs. The warmth of the brandy, the heat from the fire and, above all, Roberta's approval, had all combined to make me feel invincible. So, leaving Mrs Fairacre with a knowing grin on her face, Roberta and I headed out into the rain once more.
She'd collected the haversack at the doorway, and now she took my arm and walked close beside me, but whether to provide support or to prevent any more foolish accidents, I could not say. "Mrs Fairacre said the spirit was heading…" Roberta's voice tailed off, for there was no need to say any more. The two of us stood together at the gate, and we were oblivious to the rain as we gazed upon the scene which met our eyes.
The street was deserted… of living beings, at least. Instead, at least a dozen ghostly phantasms were gliding along the rain-swept road, arms outstretched and ragged scraps of clothing billowing behind them. They were stretched out in a line, and even as we watched, another half-dozen followed them by. Their figures were indistinct, fuzzy around the edges, but I could make out the worn faces of the elderly, and the small, tragic figures of long-departed children.
Roberta looked down at the haversack, then back at the two dozen spirits majestically drifting past, and I could tell what she was thinking. Herding just one of them would be difficult, but to step out amongst this many was tantamount to suicide.
There was a flash of lightning in the distance, and the spirits seemed to be drawn towards it. They altered direction to pass directly through the row of houses opposite, and then Roberta and I were alone.
"Something calls them," muttered Roberta. "But what could it be?"
Even as she spoke, I knew. With growing dread I realised it had to be Sykes and his newly-built
