‘Why should I do anything for you? If you were not already dying I would summon the police sergeant and have you charged with kidnap and attempted murder.’ He leaned into the dying man. ‘You held a weapon to your own child. I hope you believe in a forgiving God because no judge here on earth would let you walk free.’

Barnwell made a choking noise and Caleb gently eased the man’s head into a better position.

‘I am going to summon my nurse and we will do our best to dress the burns and make you comfortable. As to whether Adelaide wants to see you, that is her decision not mine.’

A single candle lit the small bedroom on the first floor of the Britannia Hotel, where Richard Barnwell had been placed away from the less seriously injured. Outside, a cool wind tossed the burned trees and the moon cast a thin, cold light over the silent, slumbering valley. Even the stampers had stopped at midnight in respect for the Sabbath.

Adelaide stood at the door, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim light and to the smell of carbolic and burned flesh.

Caleb sat on a hard chair beside the bed, his sleeves rolled up, his forearms resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on his patient. He looked up and, seeing her, rose to his feet with a weariness that made him look twice his age.

‘I didn’t think you’d come,’ he said.

Adelaide swallowed. ‘I was needed at the post office,’ she said. ‘And then …’

And then?

She had sat beside her sleeping son for a long time, wrestling with her conscience and with her God. Forgiveness had been a tenet of her faith all her life, but it seemed she had been called upon to forgive in circumstances where forgiveness came with a price.

She found her voice. ‘How long has he got?’

Caleb glanced at the man on the bed covered by only an old sheet, his face and body heavily bandaged. ‘He won’t see morning,’ he said.

Adelaide stretched out a hand and Caleb took it, guiding her to the chair he had vacated.

‘I’ll leave you,’ he said.

She turned to him. ‘No, don’t leave me alone with him. I want you to hear whatever it is he has to say to me.’

Caleb nodded and retreated to a dark corner of the room where he leaned against the wall, his arms folded.

Swallowing her revulsion, Adelaide bent over Richard, her nose catching the stench of burned, rotting flesh. ‘You wanted to see me, Richard?’

The man stirred and his eyes, almost lost in the bandaging, opened. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered. ‘How’s Daniel?’

Adelaide glanced at Caleb. ‘Have you told him?’

Caleb shook his head.