‘Tamasin, I am sorry, more than I can say. You are right. It was my fault. But if – when he recovers – he can come back to work for me, in the office – ’

Tamasin answered savagely, ‘How? What can he do? When he will no longer even be able to write?’

‘I will arrange something – I will make sure you do not lose – where money is concerned – I will take care of you – ’

She stood up, fists bunched at her side. ‘I see how you have taken care of my husband! You will leave us alone, never come near us again!’ Nicholas reached out a hand to steady her, but she slapped it aside. ‘Get off me, you!’ She turned back to me. ‘Now, get out! Get out!’ She put her face in her hands and sat down, sobbing.

Guy said, ‘You should go, Matthew. And you, boy. Please, go.’

I hesitated, then walked to the door. Nicholas joined me. Just as we reached it we heard a sound like a groan from the bed. Whether from all the commotion or from hearing his wife’s voice, Barak appeared to be waking. I glanced back at Tamasin; she reached out to her husband. I took a step back into the room but she cast me such a look that without further ado I let Nicholas lead me out.

HE TOOK ME HOME, carrying a lamp the porter gave him. He could see I was nearly spent. He had the sense not to speak, only to take my arm when I stumbled a couple of times. I asked him once, ‘Do you think, now he is awake, Jack may live?’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’ He spoke with a confidence which, I could tell from his voice, he did not feel.

He walked me up the path to my door. As we approached it opened and Josephine stood in the doorway. The only one of my household left now. As I came up to her I saw she was smiling. She said, ‘We found him. Edward and I. At that pond on Coney Garth where he goes to fish sometimes. He was there, trying to catch something to eat.’ Then she saw my face and her eyes widened. ‘Sir, what has happened?’

I walked past her into the kitchen. Timothy, filthy dirty, sat at the table with Edward Brown. As I came in the boy essayed a nervous smile, showing the wide gap in his teeth. He said tremulously, ‘Josephine said you were not angry any more, sir.’

I said, my voice breaking, ‘No, Timothy, I was wrong to hold a grudge so long. And what Martin Brocket told you was untrue. His leaving was not your fault. Are you safe?’

‘Yes, sir.’ He looked at me, then at Nicholas standing in the doorway behind. ‘But sir, has something happened to you?’