The door was made of a single piece of mahogany, more than three inches thick. It had become harder over the years and a mere grenade was not enough to shatter it. But the hinges and lock mechanism that kept it in place were more vulnerable. The blast ripped the hinges from their mountings and shattered the lock. The door fell backwards, crashing onto the stone floor of the hall.

Tommy and Jane Sharpe were still firing from the drawing room window – one of them shooting while the other reloaded. But they could not get a bead on the flitting black figures, darting from one shadow to another in the faint grey moonlight.

The Mau Mau kept moving. They were almost at the door. And once they reached it, the house would be at their mercy.

The moment Gerhard had stepped into the garden room, Sophie Courtney had run to the kitchen and screamed, ‘Come quick! Bwana Courtney is in danger!’

Mpishi reacted at once.

‘Mashraf, take command here! Kiprop, come with me! And you . . .’ He pointed at one of the housemaids. ‘Bring hot oil!’

While the maid dunked a small saucepan into the large pot of oil boiling on the range, the two male servants followed Sophie into the hall. Dorian was standing there.

He nodded at the garden room door and said, ‘In there.’

Mpishi did not hesitate. He opened the door halfway, for something was preventing him pushing it any further. Then he darted in with Kiprop behind him. He fired three shots at the Mau Mau in quick succession, not even trying to pick out individual targets.

‘Cover us!’ he shouted at Kiprop as he took hold of Leon, supporting him from one side while Gerhard took the other.

Kiprop emptied his magazine. The half a dozen shots fired by the two servants made the Mau Mau hesitate long enough for Mpishi and Gerhard to carry Leon out of the room.

They were in the doorway, turning into the hall, with their backs turned to the enemy, Kiprop behind them, fending off attackers with his gun.

Then a shot rang out and Leon’s body jerked as if seized by some sudden spasm.

They were in the hall now. Kiprop had closed the door. Dorian had his right shoulder up against the glass-fronted cabinet, his face white with agony and strain.

The girl was standing, holding the pan filled with oil.

‘Listen to me, Mary!’ Mpishi ordered her. ‘As soon as the door opens, throw it at them!’

A moment later, the door was pulled back. A Mau Mau warrior stood there, brandishing his panga. Mary flung the oil at his face and the man staggered backwards.

Dorian pushed the cabinet with all the strength he had left in his wiry body, so that it scraped across the floor and blocked the door.

Mpishi darted to the other side of the door and sent the grandfather clock crashing down onto the cabinet, so that it lay diagonally across the doorway.