“Call to him,” Rutledge ordered Johnson. “Tell him that I haven’t lied to him.”
“I can’t—”
Rutledge’s grip on the man’s arm tightened. “You will. Now.”
Johnson took a deep breath and then called, “Miles? It’s me. Bill. Are you there?”
The curtain twitched but there was no answer.
“He made me do it, Miles. He threatened me. But I spoke to Hubbard, and the boat is there, waiting. He’s telling the truth about that.”
“Do you swear to it?” Franklin called.
“I saw it for myself. We made sure of it not ten minutes ago.”
Rutledge said softly, “Now walk away. Back to your house and lock the door. If you don’t, he could ask you to handle the boat for him, and bring it back.”
“No—” Johnson began, but Rutledge cut him off.
“Go.”
And he turned and hurried away alone.
Rutledge called, “I’m going to bring the money now.” And he walked past the cottage, toward the hotel.
The money was waiting. Rutledge counted it himself, then nodded to Hamilton. “Thank you.”
“If this goes wrong—” Hamilton said.
“I know. Just—pray.”
He took the money back to the cottage, stood there in plain view and counted it carefully. It was in single notes, fives, and tens. Nothing larger. Then, still holding it where Franklin could see it, Rutledge took it across to the medical sack, and carefully opened it and dropped the money inside. Setting it down, he said, “I’m going to find Constable Brown. He’ll be unarmed.”
And he walked away.
Hamish said, “You’re taking a terrible risk.”
“I know.”
When he was out of sight from the cottage, he turned, and set out at a run. Weaving through empty back gardens, he reached the back of the Hailey cottage, and when no one in the house noticed he was there, he quietly slipped past the windows and stood at the nearest corner.
Constable Brown appeared, lifted the medical sack, and held it gingerly, as if it contained a live mortar round.
Rutledge looked at his watch. Eleven-fifty-nine. Then noon . . . Five minutes after. He found he was holding his breath. Another five minutes passed. Constable Brown was growing restless. But Rutledge had left the sack positioned where Brown couldn’t see him by the side of the house.
Lady Benton called from the window. “Constable? We’re coming out.”
“Yes, my lady.”
The door to the house opened slowly. Margaret Hailey stepped out first, Rutledge could hear her speaking quietly to someone behind her. And then another lighter step. Lady Benton.
And finally, Miles Franklin.
Rutledge could just see them now, they took another tentative step forward. Mrs. Hailey. Then Lady Benton, and in the rear, Franklin, with his revolver pointed at their backs.
Bruce saw Lady Benton and began to bark wildly, pulling at his lead.
What happened next took mere seconds.
As Franklin hesitated, then warily stepped across the threshold, leaving the house door wide behind him, the dog broke loose from the tree, the broken lead dragging behind him, and launched himself forward, crossing the space between the tree and the three people in a blur.
Startled, Franklin turned to meet the onslaught, crying out. Lady Benton was pulling Mrs. Hailey down.
And Rutledge, his revolver already in his hand, brought it to bear and fired.
In slow motion Miles Franklin dropped the revolver, went down to his knees, and then pitched forward on his face. Ignoring the figure lying there, the dog was greeting the two women with lavish joy.
In long swift strides, Rutledge was there, picking up the revolver, and dropping to one knee by the man on the ground.
Dr. Wister came running, and Constable Brown stood there with the bag in his hand, staring, his mouth open in shock.
Rutledge stood up and Wister took his place by the fallen man, turning him over, examining the wound. “You clipped his hip. That was a damned good shot,” he said, glancing up at Rutledge. “He’ll live to hang. Let’s get him to the surgery, fast as you can.”
Hamilton was running toward the sound of the shot, coming to a sudden halt as he saw the two women standing there beside the huge dog, and Franklin just beginning to stir, already groaning in pain.
The Inspector started forward again, had the presence of mind to take the sack from Constable Brown, and managed to say, “Good God, Rutledge, you took a devil of a chance!”
Wister was calling to Brown to come and help with the wounded man, and with Hamilton’s aid, they got him up, and began to carry him toward the surgery. Franklin was swearing now, cursing Rutledge, cursing the pain, cursing the men who had him in their grip.
Lady Benton came up beside Rutledge, saying, “That was brilliant. Will he live?”
“Wister says he will.”
“Then I’ll see to Margaret. I think she’s in shock.”
And she turned back.
They reached the surgery with their burden, and Wister held the doors wide until they could get him inside and on an examination table. Rutledge took out his handcuffs, and put them on Franklin while Wister was washing his hands.
The doctor then came forward, saying to Constable Brown, “Help me get his clothes off. I need to look at that shoulder as well.”
Hamilton, waiting to wash his own hands, sticky with blood, turned as Rutledge stepped away from the table. He said, “Why didn’t you wait until the two women were in the clear? It was a risk, he could have fired at them as he went down. And you didn’t tell me what you were planning. I should have been told, ready to cover your back.”
“You would have been watching me. As would Constable Brown. And Franklin would have known I was there. Besides, you weren’t armed. Don’t let him out of your sight until he’s been locked in a cell. Keep a Constable there with Wister all the time he’s working on Franklin.” He handed Hamilton the revolver in his hand. “Use it if you have to.”
“Where are you going? Who is this man? You called him Franklin, and Reed as well. How do I charge him?”
“Charge him as Miles Franklin. He’s wanted for murder in several counties. He’s Bill Johnson’s half-brother, as well as a laborer called Blackburn at the Home Farm. During the war he was at the airfield, serving under the name of Reed. I expect he’s also Lady Benton’s ghost. Now I’m off to be sure Mrs. Hailey and Lady Benton are all right. They’ve had a bad shock.”
He left the room as Franklin swore at him again, and walked on out of the surgery.
Hamilton started to follow, then thought better of it.
Rutledge found the two women in the kitchen of the Hailey house. Lady Benton was trying to breathe some life into the cooker, the kettle waiting to be set on. A small cupboard still blocked the door he’d tried earlier.
Mrs. Hailey was sitting in a chair, saying, “I didn’t think we’d survive. I truly didn’t. He’s the most frightening man—” As Rutledge stepped into the room, she stopped, then said to him, “I believed him when he told us he’d kill us if we offered any trouble.”
“Just as well you left it to the police.” He gestured to the cupboard. “Shall I shift that for you?”