‘You’ll have to carry it,’ John said.

‘Sorry?’

‘The dog. I can’t. My back’s buggered.’

‘Yes. Of course.’

John shut the terrier in the cottage kitchen and Will, carefully, picked up the larger dog. It seemed heavier now that the adrenaline in Will’s blood had dissipated; it was a cold, dead weight in his arms. Following John, Will carried the animal out of the cottage, up the path and over the road. He only had the one boot which meant every stone and sharp edge pressed into the sole of his bare foot. John Morahan went ahead, marching up the drive to the Big House and rapping on the door like a sergeant major.

After a few moments, the door was opened by Mrs deVillars’ nurse. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, when she saw the two men. ‘I was expecting someone else!’

‘Is Mr deVillars available?’ John asked.

‘He’s popped out to get a prescription for his wife.’ She looked at the dog in Will’s arms and then at Will’s feet. Will tried but couldn’t muster one of his charming smiles.

‘He won’t mind if we use the boot room,’ said John. ‘It’s an emergency.’

‘Well, I don’t know…’

‘He’ll be fine about it,’ said John, stepping forward with such confidence that the nurse was obliged to step back.

With a glance of apology, Will followed him into the hallway, through the kitchen and into the boot room beyond, the same room where he and Marnie had brought Mrs deVillars before. Having established they didn’t need her, the nurse excused herself and went back upstairs.

John switched on the radiator, then turned on the taps over the butler’s sink, running his hand beneath the flow until the water ran warm. ‘Bring it over here,’ he said when the sink was almost full. Will did as he was told. Carefully he lowered the dog into the water.

‘Gently. Gently!’ John’s voice softened as he leaned closer to the animal. ‘There you go; there you are, my lovely. How’s that? Is that nice, is it?’ The water in the sink turned opaque as the mud came away from the dog, which slumped, too weak to support even the weight of its own head. Will kept his arms underneath it, kept its head out of the water, feeling the clots of mud softening beneath his fingers. ‘Right,’ said John. He took off his coat and put it over the back of the chair, rolled up his shirtsleeves. ‘You hold it there. Clean off the mud as gently as you can. Top the water up as it cools; gradually bring it up to blood temperature, not too hot all at once. I’m going to find some towels. I’ll be back in a minute.’

‘We need to let Marnie know.’

‘All in good time,’ said John. ‘First things first.’