It was not as easy as he had thought to get through the opening, but it was not as difficult as it might have been. He slithered to the ground, and took several grateful breaths of the clean cold night air. As he did so, there was a louder crash from the direction of the furnace room.
Nell grabbed his arm. ‘Let’s get clear of this. The fire engines are on the way – I heard the siren a few moments ago.’
As she spoke, Michael heard them, as well. ‘I think the fire spread through the pipes or something,’ he said, brushing splinters of glass off his jacket as they crossed a small courtyard. ‘It’s fired up an old furnace, and—’ He stopped abruptly, staring at a little straggle of buildings on the other side of the small courtyard.
‘Michael, come on.’
‘No, wait. Look there. Those stone outbuildings.’
‘What? Where?’
‘The carvings over that door,’ said Michael. ‘Can I have the torch a moment?’
‘Two downspouts carved as faces,’ said Nell, as Michael directed the torch. ‘A bit chipped and sort of sly and leery. Is it significant?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Michael, and half to himself, he said, ‘“Blow-cheeked cherubs. The lips of one had broken away, so that it appeared to be screaming silently through a lipless mouth, while the other one’s eyes had chipped, making it seem as if the eyes had been partly removed. The screaming and the blind …” That’s what she called them.’
‘Who? Michael, what on earth …?’
‘Maria Porringer,’ he said, still staring at the carved stone faces. ‘She was here. This was once a murderers’ prison.’ Seeing her expression, he said, ‘It’s all right, I’m not delirious or anything. I found Maria’s journal, and it’s all there. And,’ he said, as they made their way back to the front of the house, ‘if ever this house was going to be haunted, it would have to be haunted by Esther Breadspear. This is where they tried three times to hang her.’
Nell looked at him, but before she could say anything, the flashing lights of the fire engine sirens cut through the darkness.
They stood with Jack Hurst as the massive hoses directed powerful jets of water on to Deadlight Hall’s upper floors.
Three more firefighters had snaked hoses around the side of the house, and had broken down the door through which Michael had made his exit.
‘Everything’s safe now, sir,’ said the most senior of the men, coming up to give Jack Hurst an interim report. ‘The fire was in the attic as you thought, but it had – well, in layman’s terms, it had whooshed through some old pipes and burst into an old furnace room. That’s pretty much ruined now. Burnt out almost entirely, I’m afraid – half of one wall’s fallen in, and most of what’s in there is charred to cinders. There’ll be a more detailed investigation about the cause when everything’s cooled – particularly if the owners are claiming on the insurance.’
‘The owners won’t do that,’ said Jack Hurst.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I am sure. I’m the owner,’ he said.
Michael glanced at Nell, and saw his own surprise mirrored in her expression.
Hurst said, ‘What’s your best guess on the cause of the fire?’
‘Difficult to be exact,’ said the fire officer. ‘You’ve never had any kind of flame up there, have you?’
‘Of course I haven’t. No one but a complete idiot would have a naked flame up there.’
No one, thought Michael, but a group of frightened and bitter children, who lit candles so they could execute a murderess … Candles which were overturned as she fought for life …
‘Dr Flint, I don’t suppose you even went up there?’ said the fire officer.
‘No,’ said Michael, unhesitatingly.