He had just time enough to swing the door shut when Bennett, still game, though breathing hard and struggling to keep on his feet, leaped for the door.

Mallory gunned the motor, shifted into first and then as fast as he dared into second, dragging Inspector Bennett with him as the motorcar jumped forward like a horse under the whip. Fighting for control of the wheel, Mallory drove on, weaving at first and then more smoothly as his tires hit the lane and caught.

Bennett, holding on for dear life, was being dragged, his grunts of pain and anger jerked from his body as he bounced beside the car. But then his grip slipped and Mallory hammered with his fist on the other hand still clinging to the door.

Bennett fell off with a wild yell, and then screamed as the rear tire bumped over his foot.

Mallory didn’t stop. There was only one thought in his head now. Reaching Felicity before she could hear the news from anyone else.

4

Felicity sat by her husband’s bed in the small examining room near the garden door of the surgery, where Dr. Granville treated his more serious cases.

Next to the bed were rolls of bandaging and a pan filled with bloody water, a sponge on the floor beside it and a pair of scissors next to that.

Matthew Hamilton, lying naked on the sheet, seemed to be wrapped in gauze and tape. His face was covered, although she could just see the cut lip and the thickening bruise on his chin. One arm was entirely swathed, and there was more bandaging around his chest and on one thigh.

His color was ghastly, she thought, catching his good hand in hers and holding it tight.