A Death in the Asylum Read Online Free PDF Page B

different tone.
    ‘I’m thinking it was because she was on the ground floor.’
    ‘Harder to sneak into the servants’ attics, you mean?’ said Mr Bertram. ‘You have a point. Unless it was …’
    ‘Seems unlikely, sir,’ said Rory. ‘After all, there is no one new in the house.’ He paused. ‘Other than your footman.’
    ‘Merrit?’ said Mr Bertram. ‘Are you suggesting?’
    ‘I’m suggesting it might be best to rule him out before the police get here and ask the same question.’
    ‘Police?’ asked Mr Bertram blankly. ‘You called the police.’
    ‘Yon doctor would have done it if I hadn’t. It looks better this way.’
    ‘But he’s been with the family for ever!’ said Mr Bertram.
    ‘Good God, man, he fair killed the woman!’
    ‘Right. Right,’ said Mr Bertram. ‘Have you woken my brother yet?’
    ‘I was just about to, sir, once we knew what the doctor thought and once we’d checked where your footman was.’
    ‘I see. Thank you,’ said Mr Bertram roughly. ‘You appear to have thought of everything.’
    ‘I endeavour to give satisfaction, sir,’ said Rory with a notable trace of irony in his voice.
    My eyelids felt extraordinarily heavy, but I managed to open them. I was lying on a chaise in the library. Rory and Bertram were standing by a roaring fire. I could see Bertram had a large brandy in his hand. Although to be fair he seemed to be holding it rather than drinking it. A heavy cover was thrown over me. I tried to lift my head and the world swam alarmingly. ‘Is she all right?’ I asked in what was admittedly a shaky voice.
    Rory turned at once. ‘Lay your head back down, lass,’ he commanded. ‘The doctor will be up to see you in a moment.’
    ‘Honestly, Euphemia, what were you thinking of running around the household late at night, barely dressed?’ demanded Mr Bertram.
    I put my hand to my head and felt the large lump that was growing. ‘I thought she’d need me after whatever …’ I stopped as the words tangled.
    ‘It was a right brave thing to do,’ said Rory. ‘Bloody stupid, but brave.’
    ‘He knocked me down,’ I said.
    ‘Aye, you were lucky. He made a right mess of Mrs Wilson. Looks like he tried to kill her.’
    ‘Good God!’ I said horrified. ‘Who was it? Have you caught him?’
    ‘He was too fast for me,’ said Mr Bertram, ‘and Rory here was too caught up with carrying you upstairs.’
    I gave Rory a weak smile. Mr Bertram glowered. ‘Thank you,’ I said.
    ‘I thought for a moment he’d killed you,’ said Rory, ‘but looks like it’s just a nasty knock on the head.’
    ‘How did he get out?’ I asked.
    ‘Kitchen door and across the garden,’ said Mr Bertram.
    ‘Have you checked to see if everyone is where they should be?’ I asked bluntly. (I can only offer the concussion as an excuse for my rudeness.)
    Rory pursed his lips and shook his head.
    ‘But it could be …’ Sense returned and I didn’t finish the sentence.
    ‘Did you get a look at him?’ asked Mr Bertram.
    I closed my eyes and thought. ‘No, I can’t remember much. Only a black figure running and knocking me to the ground.’ I opened my eyes again and the world swam alarmingly once more. ‘I don’t feel well,’ I said.
    ‘Where is that wretched doctor?’ said Mr Bertram. ‘Go and check, Rory.’
    When we were alone Mr Bertram knelt down by my side. ‘You gave me a terrible fright, Euphemia. You had no business … unless you were with him when …’
    ‘I was in my room,’ I said coldly. ‘Alone.’
    Mr Bertram hung his head. ‘It was finding you standing there with him, dressed as you were, and with all the commotion, I didn’t know what to think.’
    ‘You should know me better,’ I said.
    Mr Bertram’s head hung a little lower. ‘Euphemia,’ he said, ‘Euphemia …’
    ‘Yes,’ I whispered.
    ‘There isn’t any chance it was Merrit, is there?’
    ‘Merrit,’ I said flabbergasted. ‘Why on earth would you think that?’
    ‘He’s new