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The pavement was filling with people: Jemima, Thomas and Charlotte, Tobias and Rebecca Thorwood. Jemima ran instantly to Patrick, her face white. “Patrick! Are you all right?”
“Yes. It’s not much,” he said, mumbling over the handkerchief, blood now seeping through it. “I’m all right.” He turned to Daniel and was about to speak, when a constable in uniform came round the bend from the direction of the smoke. “All right, ladies and gentlemen,” he said authoritatively. “Nothing to see here. Just some damn fool who took too much to drink and drove into the bollards of the turnoff. Doesn’t know the road, I expect. Foreigners!”
Daniel collected his wits. “Was anyone hurt?”
The constable looked at him incredulously. “Hurt? Not anymore, sir. I’m afraid the car’s finished, and the people inside it, too. Friction must have caused a spark and the fuel tank burst and went up instantly. Burned to…” He stopped, aware of what he was saying. “Hope it wasn’t anyone you know. Sir? Unreliable things, them motorcars. Would never have happened with a horse! Now move along, please, ladies and gentlemen.” He looked more closely at Patrick. “Seems like you’re hurt, sir. Perhaps you’d better go inside and sit down. We’ll send for a doctor.”
“Yes, please,” Jemima answered before Patrick could speak.
“I’m fine,” Patrick mumbled through the handkerchief. “We’re in the middle of a trial. I’m police. For God’s sake, man! What happened?”
The pavement was rapidly filling with people, including more police. Pitt and Charlotte looked at Patrick in alarm. Charlotte went to Jemima, and they both stood close to him.
Pitt went to the constable. He produced his card and showed it to him.
“Yes, sir. Seems as they came round the corner too fast and ran straight into the bollards that block it off. Don’t know London, maybe. Going too fast to keep control. Man and a woman. I’m sorry, sir, but there was no chance either of them survived.”
Pitt acknowledged it silently and stepped back to Charlotte, Patrick, and Jemima.
Behind them, Miriam was holding Rebecca in her arms. She let her go so she could comfort her father, touching him gently, as if she were the stronger.
Kitteridge came up to Daniel. He looked as if he had been close to the explosion himself, jacket crushed, tie half undone, and hair flying. “That has to be the final defense! Armitage! Why in hell…? I know, don’t tell me. Mrs. Thorwood’s affair all that time ago was with him. She never got over it. And he was a traitor all along. How long have you known?”
“About half an hour,” Daniel answered, smiling ruefully.
