Chapter 15
Distracted by Daisy’s revelation, Alec caught a crab. The resultant shower hit the empty stern seat, not that, wet as they were, anyone would have cared about getting splashed. Alec rocked back but just managed not to topple into Cherry’s lap.
In spite of this lapse, the banks slid by infinitely faster on the way back to Bulawayo than they had on the outward voyage. The men were silent, their breath needed for rowing, and Daisy stayed mum so as not to disturb Alec’s concentration again. Her mind seethed with speculation, though.
What on earth was Lord DeLancey doing on Temple Island at dawn with Horace Bott? Apart from shooting him, of course. If DeLancey believed Bott responsible for his brother’s death, the shooting must be revenge. But what on earth was Horace Bott doing at dawn on Temple Island with Lord DeLancey?
One thing was certain: they couldn’t possibly have met by chance. If the encounter was proposed by DeLancey, Bott would have had to be crazy to turn up—unless he was both innocent and unaware that he was the prime suspect.
On the other hand, why should Bott want to meet
DeLancey? In the hope of convincing him of his innocence? Proving it to Alec was more to the point.
A rendezvous with pistols at dawn sounded like a duel, but the custom of duelling had died out in England more than half a century ago. Anyway, duels were between gentlemen, and Lord DeLancey did not accord Bott that status.
Could it have been someone other than Lord DeLancey? That seemed even less likely than a duel.
None of the affair made any sort of sense that Daisy could see.
They were approaching the Cheringhams’. Cherry’s frequent glances over his shoulder and consequent adjustments to his stroke had kept the skiff on a roughly straight course. Given the bend in the river, this brought them close to their destination before further manoeuvres became necessary.
“Right-oh, Fletcher, ship oars and man the boat-hook,” he instructed, and with apparent ease brought the skiff gently alongside the landing-stage.
Manfully, Alec manned the boathook. However, exhausted by his exertions, he sagged as soon as Cherry had stepped ashore and the skiff was safely moored.
“My arms … won’t work any more,” he gasped. “I don’t dare risk … lifting Bott in case I drop him.”
“You did a good job,” Cherry said kindly. “Rowing uses just about every muscle in your body, including some most people never know they have. I’ll buzz on up to the house and get help. One or two of those sluggards must be up by now.”
“Don’t … tell …” Alec panted.
Daisy guessed: “Don’t mention Lord DeLancey, Cherry. Nor the shots or the gun,” she added, as Alec gestured weakly at his bundled jacket. “The pistol.”
“Right-oh.” Cherry set off up the lawn at an insufferably energetic run. Alec summoned up just enough energy to glare after him.
“He’s made a point of developing all the right muscles,” Daisy consoled Alec, tactfully steering clear of the ten years difference in age.
“I was fagged out after fifty yards. Alec, do you have any brilliant ideas about what they were doing there? Lord DeLancey and Bott? I can’t make head or tail of it. ”
“I haven’t exactly had much leisure for thought.” He was regaining control of his breathing, at least. “Tell me your conclusions, or what led to a lack of them. But first, how’s Bott doing?”
“He hasn’t stirred.” Daisy peeked under the pad of handkerchief, then removed and refolded it. “The bleeding seems to have stopped.”
“How’s his pulse? He still has one, I take it?”
“He’s breathing, wheezing a bit.” She laid the hankie clean side down over the wound and grasped Bott’s wrist. “I’m not very good at pulses. It seems to me steady but rather weak.”
“I hope to heaven he recovers, or we may never find out what was going on back there.”
By the time Daisy finished explaining her reasoning and her failure to deduce any answers, help was on the way. Rollo, Leigh, and Meredith came galloping down the garden like the Charge of the Light Brigade, with Tom Tring and Ernie Piper bringing up the rear.
Hastily picking up the jacket-wrapped pistol, Alec stepped up onto the landing-stage and helped Daisy ashore. Fortunately, her light summer clothes had dried off enough not to be utterly indecent.
While Piper helped Rollo, Leigh, and Meredith to lift Bott from the skiff to the landing-stage, Alec surreptitiously passed the Mauser to Tom Tring. The sergeant enveloped it in his own spotted handkerchief and deposited it in the capacious pocket of his startling blue and white check suit jacket.
“Mr. Cheringham sent Mr. Gladstone to rout out Bister to start up Lady Cheringham’s motor-car, Chief. He’s telephoning the hospital now so’s they’ll be prepared. He didn’t say what happened, just that Mr. Bott’s in a bad way.”
“I’ll explain in the car, Tom.”
“Right, Chief. What about this here?” He patted his pocket.
“Bring it, and your kit.”
“I’ll go get it.”
As Tom set off back to the house, Daisy said, “Has he got Lord DeLancey’s dabs to match it with?”
“No. We’ll have to get them somehow.”
They turned to the others. Piper was stripping off his jacket, saying, “You can make a stretcher with a couple of coats and two of them … those oars.”
“Good thought,” said Rollo, and took off his blazer while Meredith and Leigh retrieved a pair of sculls.
Bott was gently transferred from the planks to the makeshift stretcher, and once again a stretcher-bearing procession tramped up the path. At least the body on the stretcher was alive this time. So far.
“What are his chances?” she asked Alec as they followed.
“With proper care he may be perfectly all right, but plenty of things can go wrong with near-drowning victims, not only their lungs but hearts and brains, too. I’ve dealt with a few in
my time. On top of that, there’s the loss of blood, and we’ve had a graphic demonstration of the possible results of head injuries.”
“Yes.” Daisy shivered, though the morning was already warm.
“You go and change at once,” Alec ordered. “I don’t want you risking pneumonia, as well as Bott.”
“I’m perfectly all right.” Daisy had no intention of wasting time changing her clothes if it might mean being left behind. “Are you going to the hospital, or straight to see Lord DeLancey?”
“To the hospital. For a start, I must arrange for a guard.”
“He’s in no condition to try running away.” She stopped, horrified, at the foot of the steps. “Oh, you think Lord DeLancey may try again?”
“Little likelihood, I’d say, but not to be ignored.
Also, I must talk to the doctor, get a prognosis.
If I’m extraordinarily lucky, Bott may come round and give me something to go on when I see DeLancey.
” Alec was planning as he spoke. “If not, I’ll leave Tom.
He can take a statement if it becomes possible, and double as a guard. ”
“Miss Hopgood will want to be with Bott.”
“Oh, the dickens, I’d forgotten her. A hysterical female is just what I need.”
“Susan Hopgood isn’t at all the sort to succumb to hysteria.”
“All the same, don’t you think she’d be better off not knowing till he recovers consciousness?”
“Or dies? No,” Daisy said firmly. “Bister can fetch her. There must be family, too, who ought to be informed.”
“Not until I have more idea of what’s going on,” Alec said
with equal firmness as they entered the house in the wake of the stretcher party. He raised his voice. “Carry him into the hall, please, Frieth, ready to move on as soon as the car is brought round.”
Wells and Poindexter were in the hall, trying to get more from an uncommunicative Cherry than that Bott was hurt. They turned eagerly to Rollo in hopes of better information. Cherry handed a rolled bandage to Daisy and turned with relief to Alec.
“I’ve spoken to the Sister on duty at Townlands Hospital. She’s getting hold of a doctor and having a bed prepared. Sergeant Tring said Bott should have a private room?”
“Yes, thanks. Lady Cheringham’s car … ?”
“Is on the way. Bister was asleep when Gladstone rang through to him. There are other motor-cars available, of course, but I thought Bott would be less shaken about in the Humber, so …”
A sharp cry interrupted him. Along with everyone else, Daisy looked up at the stairs.
Tish and Dottie had stopped on their way down. Tish was looking over the banisters at Bott, lying limp and ashen on the improvised stretcher on the floor. Turning almost as pale, she crumpled in a dead faint.
Somehow Dottie managed to catch Tish before she hit her head on a step and tumbled down the stairs.
Rollo and Cherry bounded up to her assistance.
At that moment, Gladstone came in through the open front door and announced in a voice which remained deferential while cutting through the hubbub, “Mr. Fletcher, sir, the Humber is at the door.”
Daisy had to choose instantly whether to stay with Tish or go with Bott. It was an easy decision, and curiosity had nothing
to do with it, she assured herself. Her cousin had Dottie and Aunt Cynthia to support her, not to mention Rollo and Cherry, whereas Susan Hopgood had no one.
Slipping out, Daisy was already ensconced in the back seat of the Humber when Bott was borne out by Wells and Poindexter, with Meredith and Leigh in attendance. Alec, following the stretcher with Piper and Tring, glowered at her.
She smiled sweetly back, reasonably confident that, with all the others there, he wouldn’t attempt to make her stay behind. Her confidence proved justified, whether because of the audience or because he was beginning to learn the futility of trying to order her about.
Thus Horace Bott’s bandaged head was cradled in Daisy’s still slightly damp lap as the Humber rolled down the drive. Piper sat in front, beside Bister in the cap and uniform jacket appropriate to his chauffeur’s role.