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Daniel started forward to help Miriam, and then realized a sudden movement might only make it worse. He froze.
Seconds ticked by.
The horse quieted. Slowly they all relaxed.
Miriam came out of the stall and moved over toward Daniel. Without thinking, he put his arm round her. She was shaking.
Mullane gradually settled the horse.
Miriam walked away from Daniel but took his hand and pulled him along with her. She was going toward the saddles and harnesses in what was almost a separate room. She ignored the two larger saddles and went to the graceful side saddle, a little dusty from weeks of disuse in an atmosphere where hay and corn were stored. She went to pick it up, and Daniel reached across and lifted it for her. She turned it over and stared at it, examining it closely.
Daniel watched her, and then looked at the saddle. He saw it first, perhaps because he was looking more closely thanks to her. It was a small spot of blood, dried, smaller than a little fingernail.
Then Miriam saw it and turned to him, her eyes shining.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Rosie,” she replied. “The horse. I found the corresponding wound on her back, hidden by her mane. It looks like something in this saddle spiked her. It’s not there anymore, but it left a sore on her back. It became infected and it’s suppurating now. It must hurt like hell when any pressure is put on it. You can’t see it, because it’s partially healed over, with a splinter or something still there. That may be why she lashed out.”
Daniel stiffened. “Mullane?”
“No. He would have taken it out and done something to heal the wound in the horse before it got worse, if he knew about it. Then there’d be no trace of it. I expect he touched her lightly—nothing more than a brush now and then. She’s very skittish. I daresay May’s death frightened her badly.”
Daniel saw Mullane walking toward them. “Are you sure?” he said to Miriam.
“Please God, it wasn’t him!” she said under her breath.
“Are you all right, Miss fford Croft?” Mullane asked anxiously.
“Yes, thank you.” She took a deep breath. “But I’ve got a lot of questions to ask you. And I think Mr. Pitt may need you in London.”
Mullane looked from one to the other of them. “I don’t understand. This…this proves that poor Rosie is to blame. I’d rather let her just go to breeding—or not be used at all. I’m not—”
Daniel took a risk, not a very carefully evaluated one. He knew it was rash even as he said the words. “Somebody put something very sharp in her saddle. It hurt her. The wound is still there, partially healed over, but suppurating and infected. That’s why she lashed out, when Miriam touched it.”
Mullane started to speak, then stopped.
Daniel smiled. “You’re a doctor. If you’d done it, you’d have had the sense to treat the wound, wouldn’t you? It must be only a small piece of something sharp like a thorn still left.”
Mullane was pale. “What son of a bitch would do that? To a woman like May Trelawny? Or to the horse?”
“I don’t know,” Daniel replied. “But I mean to find out.”
“I’ll help you all I can,” Mullane said fervently. “But you’ll need more than my word for this. I’ll take photographs. We’ll get them developed in the post office. We’ll take them with us to London on tomorrow’s boat. But be quick. I want to get that horse treated!”
“Yes,” Miriam agreed, surprisingly not moving from Daniel, who again had his arm around her.
He did not move either.
CHAPTER
Twenty-two
“WE’VE GOT A lot more to do before getting the last boat back to England tomorrow afternoon,” Daniel said to Miriam, when Mullane had taken photographs of Rosie’s back and of the blood mark on the saddle, and set out to deliver them to the postmistress for immediate development.
“There’s only one boat to Cherbourg, and then to Portsmouth,” Miriam replied. “We should book a place on it, in case there are too many passengers going back after their holidays.”
“Yes, of course,” Daniel agreed. “But we’ve got to get a much clearer picture of what happened to May before then. We know exactly what day Miss Trelawny died, and we can find out who was on Alderney then, or at the least who definitely was not. Did it happen in the stable, do you think, like the postmistress said?”
