A False Mirror - Charles Todd [133]
“Was this anywhere near the landslip?”
“My God.” He groaned. “I was in that house. I don’t know why I left it, something, a sixth sense, the way the rainwater was rushing past it—I don’t know. I’d seen the family across the road leave, I told myself I could make it to their shed. But I was hardly out the door when the ground moved the first time. Like an earthquake. When I stopped long enough to look back, there was nothing there.”
“Why did you go to it in the first place?”
“God knows. I can’t remember. I think I was afraid, I couldn’t understand why I was hurt and bandaged.”
“But why leave the safety of Dr. Granville’s surgery? In the middle of the night?”
“Did I do that?” Hamilton stared at him. “No, you’re wrong there, I was in a dark fearful place and something was worrying me. Have you ever been in a Turkish prison? No, I expect not. I was once, visiting a man charged with a serious crime. I was never so glad to be out into the fresh air again in my life.”
“Where was Mrs. Granville, Hamilton? Do you remember seeing her?”
“She and Granville came to dinner—”
“No, while you were lying there, being treated by her husband.”
He put both hands to his face as if he could scrub away his confusion. “I don’t even know how I got these injuries, Rutledge. Or where I’ve been. I remember being afraid I was going to die, if I didn’t do something. There were voices, and sometimes I knew what they were saying and sometimes I didn’t.”
“Who came to help you in the midst of everything that was happening?”
Rutledge glanced toward Miranda Cole. She was standing there, a mixture of fear and pity on her face as she listened.
But Matthew Hamilton said, “It was Felicity. It must have been.”
Surprised, Rutledge stared at him, trying to determine whether he was telling the truth—or the truth as he thought he knew it.
But he was lying back on his pillows now, his face grim as he fought pain and weakness.
“You must stop,” Miss Cole said quietly.
Rutledge answered her: “I can’t. I don’t have all the story. And it’s urgent that I get to the bottom of what he’s been through.”
“Then let him rest for a bit, and eat something if he will. After that we’ll see if he’s well enough to go on.”
Dedham brought food for Matthew Hamilton—eggs cooked in milk, with a little whiskey for strength, a broth rich with chicken and some rice, a custard that was flavored with sherry.
He ate slowly, stopping for stretches of time, as if his arms were too heavy to lift the spoon.
Rutledge, waiting by the window, fought his impatience. It was already dark outside, and he felt a pressing need to return to Hampton Regis.
Finally satisfied, Hamilton pushed away the tray. “You were going to tell me what happened to me. I must have fallen. It’s the only way I can account for what I see here.” He gestured with one hand to his body.
“You went for a walk. Down by the water, even though a sea mist was rolling in. And someone came up to speak to you.”
“I don’t think anyone did. I walk very early, before Felicity is awake.”
“You were found on the shingle, just above the tideline. Another half an hour, less even, and as badly hurt as you were, you’d have drowned.”
Hamilton seemed to listen, as if bringing back to mind the sounds of that morning. “Someone went down to the boats. I couldn’t see who it was.”
“He must have turned and come toward you.”
“If he did, I couldn’t tell. The mists muffle sound.”
“And then you were struck over the head, and went down.”
“I remember men’s voices.” He shook his head. “It’s hopeless.”
“But you left the surgery. Why?”
“Something was going to happen. Was Inspector Bennett there? I remember him telling me over and over again that Felicity was calling for me, and I had to wake up and help her.”
Bennett, trying to rouse him as Rutledge had done earlier.
“By the bye, do you have your keys with you?”
“Are they in my pocket? Look in the wardrobe.”
Rutledge had been sitting by the fire Dedham had laid in the room. Now he went to the wardrobe, his