A False Mirror - Charles Todd [153]
Granville went backward, tripped over Mr. Putnam’s sprawled feet, and fell heavily, one arm twisted behind him. As his left hand brushed the flames, he cried out and rebounded like a spring.
Rutledge didn’t hesitate. He did as Granville himself had done, drawing back his knee and then delivering a blow with his stocking foot directly into Granville’s sternum, pushing him backward and knocking the wind out of him. Gasping for air, Granville went down beside the struggling rector.
Catching up the blankets from Nan’s narrow cot, Rutledge dragged them over the rector, smothering the fire already taking hold in the shoulder and back of his coat. Then he pulled the rector to his feet and with all the strength he possessed shoved him bodily, still smoking and retching, out into the passage. Putnam bit off a scream as his burning shoulder hit the far wall hard, and he fought to keep his feet even as he tried to beat at the smoldering ruins of his coat.
Then in a shambling run, he went down the passage toward the dining room, leaving Rutledge alone with Granville and the leaping blue-gold tongues of a strengthening conflagration.
Rutledge reached down for the doctor, dodging a fist wildly thrown in his direction. With a firm grasp on Granville’s collar and shirtfront, he hauled him out of the room and into the passage, slamming him into the opposite wall. While Granville cursed him, he wheeled and swung the door shut on the unbearable heat.
The fire would blow out the glass in a matter of minutes. But just now he had Granville to deal with.
Hamish said, “You mustna’ harm him!” As if he recognized the fury that was driving Rutledge.
In the distance, Rutledge could hear shouting somewhere, and then other voices.
Breathing hard from the smoke and his anger, he turned on the doctor. “It’s over, do you understand me? Give Hamilton or Mallory half an excuse and they’ll kill you with their bare hands.”
He reached for the man’s belt, turned him roughly, and secured his wrists behind his back. “Hamilton would like a private half hour with you. Make no mistake, he’s still capable of doing considerable damage. Don’t tempt him.”
It was a warning he hoped the doctor would take to heart.
Feet were racing toward him, and in the light of the blazing walls behind him, he could see Mallory, with Putnam not far behind him, and Hamilton struggling to keep up. The constable on watch was trying to pass all three of the men. And in the rear, Felicity stopped short, eyes bright with the fire’s reflection and her own fury.
They organized a rough water brigade and did what they could to stop the flames. Putnam found more blankets somewhere, and cloths for the table. They beat at the fire, beginning to make headway.
Suddenly they heard the roar of a revolver in the confined space of the passage behind them. It was deafening, stopping them in their tracks with the shock of the report.
When they turned nearly as one man to look, Dr. Granville was cowering on the floor, and Felicity Hamilton stood ten feet from him with her husband’s revolver clenched tightly in both hands.
“There are five more shots,” she told him shrilly. “The next one won’t miss.”
But he lay there, not moving, his face buried in his shoulder.
More people were coming now, Bennett leading the charge.
Ten minutes later the fire was out, though smoke still filled the kitchen quarters, and sooty faces paused long enough to catch a breath. Several of them coughed heavily before grinning at one another in satisfaction. Hamilton, exhausted, stood with both hands on his knees, head down.
Putnam was lying against the wall, his face gray with pain. Felicity had helped him take off what was left of his coat and the clerical shirt beneath it. The flesh was raw and wet, burned deeply. Putnam tried for a wan smile, saying to Rutledge, “I’ll have one of those powders you gave Hamilton. It will be awhile before Dr. Hester is here. Bennett has sent young Jordan for him.”
Bennett was busy with Dr. Granville. Rutledge felt in his