Caleb had never been past the main offices in the police station but now he marched down a narrow corridor to the back of the building where the two small cells barred with iron gates had been cut into the hillside.

He stiffened and rounded on the constable. ‘No. I’ll give you my word, I won’t go anywhere, but don’t lock me up in there.’

For answer, O’Grady shoved him in the back and he stumbled into the dark, clammy cell, hitting the low bench that had been cut into the rock on the far side of the room. He fell to his knees and the heavy gate slammed behind him.

‘You’ll have some company shortly,’ O’Grady said as the outer door shut behind him.

Pain, shame and guilt rose like nausea. Caleb closed his eyes and balled his hands, pressing them against his face as he tried to block out the memory of the solitary confinement cells at Elmira.

The only light in the cell came from a lantern that stood on the table in the narrow outer room beyond the cells and shadows danced and played across the rough walls. Caleb lay down on the rock shelf that passed for a bed and covered his eyes with his forearm, trying to ignore the walls closing in around him. He could almost smell the blood—and worse—mingling with sweat and the scent of unwashed bodies and fear. Hundreds of Confederate prisoners of war crammed together in the foetid conditions of Elmira. No hope … nothing, except a daily fight for survival.

He steadied his breath. He should have anticipated that Barnwell would do something like this. He would be one of those obnoxious prigs who believed in authority to solve his problems. The town lacked a lawyer. The only hope Caleb had was the common sense of one of the JPs or that Maidment would return from his reconnaissance of the fire. With luck, he would be freed in the morning. Until then there appeared to be nothing he could do except wait.

A coarse blanket and a straw mattress had been provided to soften the bench and he made himself as comfortable as he could, stretching out with his hands behind his head while he considered the situation.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to sleep.

At supper, Danny picked at his food and answered Adelaide’s questions with monosyllabic grunts. He hadn’t asked her about Richard Barnwell’s sudden absence from their table and she didn’t raise the subject. She had tried to convince herself that Richard would see sense and leave Maiden’s Creek and she would go back to being the widow Greaves and everything would be as it was.

Except it never could be.