We Shall Not Sleep_ A Novel - Anne Perry [70]
“It’s times I’m really looking for,” she replied. “When you saw Captain Cavan as you were coming off duty, was that four o’clock exactly?”
“Well, I…I’m not sure, not for certain.” His obvious discomfort increased.
“Don’t you go off duty at four o’clock?”
“Yes, but there was a bit of a scuffle earlier, an’ I waited to see what it was. There was a woman yelling an’ I thought one of the nurses might be in trouble, so I went to see. Think that was when I saw Captain Cavan. I don’t know what time that was, closer than fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“Was it Miss Price yelling?” she asked immediately.
He shook his head. “No, it definitely weren’t, because I saw ’er comin’ away from the ’ut the Germans are in as I got back. She was fine, laughin’ and actin’ happy.”
She was puzzled. “Then who was it?”
“Miss Robinson. She just tripped on a broken board.”
“Was it long before you changed duty?”
“About…I don’t know…awhile.” Now he was so awkward, she was certain he was not being honest. She was not sure why. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and turned his collar up against the wind. “But Miss Price was fine,” he said earnestly. “So it doesn’t matter, does it!”
“No, I suppose not,” she conceded, and to his clear relief, she went to find Benbow.
He looked less nervous, standing to attention in the open as she asked him the same questions.
“Yes, I heard the woman shouting out,” he agreed, looking at her gravely. “Eames went to see what it was. It did sound like someone hurt, but it turned out to be Miss Robinson, just because she slipped.”
“You didn’t go?” She was not sure why she was asking. It seemed pointless, but she wanted to sound thorough.
He shook his head slightly. “Didn’t make any difference. Sarah Price went into the Germans’ hut after that to see to them.” His face was bleak, as if he was thinking of what had happened to her, and the anger at it was bright in his eyes.
“But she came out all right.” That was a statement. Judith already knew the answer.
“Yes. One of the Germans came out, too,” Benbow added. His expression flickered. She could not read it.
“But you watched him, of course?”
“Of course.”
She could not think of anything else to ask, and finally turned to leave.
“That was the last time I saw her,” Benbow added. “With the German. They were still there when I went off duty. She went back inside with him.” He tried hard to keep the contempt out of his eyes and his voice, but it was too deep within him, and she could not help recognizing it.
“At about quarter past four?” she asked aloud.
He blinked, knowing what she had read in him, daring her to make an issue of it. “Yes.”
She swallowed hard. She understood, and part of her agreed. Pity for any wounded man, British or German, was one thing. To flirt as if nothing stood between you, no years of slaughter, was different. Respect, yes, even honor—but not laughter and teasing, as if the dead did not matter.
She thanked him and left without meeting his eyes again.
She found Lizzie coming out of one of the Treatment tents. Her face was pale, and there was an urgency about her that made it plain that she had learned something.
“What is it?” Judith demanded. Then she realized that Lizzie was suffering some acute distress, struggling within herself to make a decision. “What is it?” she repeated more gently. “At least tell me!”
Lizzie took her arm, steering her away from the half-open flap and out into the wind. She walked some distance until they were clearly alone before she spoke.
“I know what happened, but I don’t know what to do about it,” she said almost under her breath, even though there was no one within fifty feet of them.
“Does it clear Matthew?” That was the only thing Judith cared about.
“Yes…”
“Then we’ll tell Jacobson, and—”
“No,” Lizzie cut across her. “And Punch Fuller isn’t likely to ever change his story.”
“Yes, he