Read Online The Pool of St. Branok by Philippa Carr - Free Book Online Page A

had gone on, but I knew that for me it was a losing battle.
    I prayed, I think. One always does, if only subconsciously, on such occasions. It is at times like this one that one believes in God … because one has to.
    And … as if by a miracle my prayers were answered.
    I heard my name. “Angel.” It seemed to come from a long way off. “For God’s sake, Angel.”
    And there was Ben.
    My assailant was on his feet. I saw Ben running towards us. He was still calling my name. “Angel, Angel. Oh no … ”
    The murderer was lunging towards him, but Ben was ready. I watched, too stunned to move for a moment. I just lay there. I saw the man strike out at Ben … but Ben parried the blow and came at him. He hit him hard between the eyes. The man staggered and fell. I got to my feet and rushed to Ben.
    He held me tightly in his arms. “Angel … dearest Angel … Are you all right? Oh … my God.”
    “I’m all right now, Ben. I’m all right now you are here.”
    He stared at me … the blood on my face … I knew there was blood on my clothes. I could not imagine what I looked like.
    We turned to gaze down at the man.
    “It’s the one,” said Ben. “It’s the wanted man.”
    “I thought he was you,” I said. “He asked me the way … and he seemed quite normal. Then suddenly he changed. He got hold of me and I couldn’t get away. Ben … oh, Ben.”
    “It’s all over now. He looks as if he is really out. We’ll just go and let them know we’ve found him.”
    “He might get away and escape.”
    Ben knelt down. The man had not moved since he had fallen. He looked strangely still. Ben lifted his head. It fell back with a jerk but not before we had seen the blood staining his thick dark curly hair. The back of his head was covered in blood. So was the stone onto which he had fallen.
    Ben looked at me in horror. His next words sent a tremor of fear through me. “He’s dead,” he said.
    He let him fall and then he added: “I’ve killed him.”
    “Oh, Ben … it can’t be … What’ll happen?”
    “I don’t know,” said Ben.
    “You just saved me … that was all. He can’t be really dead … not just like that.”
    “I hit him pretty hard … but it wasn’t that only. He fell on that stone. There’s a sharp edge. It looks as if it has penetrated his head.”
    I just stared at him in sudden terror. My thoughts went back to the picture in the gallery. I saw clearly my grandfather’s laughing eyes. Jake Cadorson, who had killed a man who was attempting to assault a young gypsy girl. It was murder and in spite of the fact that he had saved the girl from her attacker he had been sentenced to transportation for seven years.
    Ben had killed a man … a murderer wanted by the law. But it would be called murder or at least manslaughter … and my grandfather’s punishment for the same offense had been seven years’ exile.
    It must not happen to Ben.
    Ben had lost his bravado. I could see that he was thinking what I was.
    He said slowly: “I … I killed him.”
    “You didn’t mean to. You had to stop him. If you hadn’t killed him he would have killed you.”
    “It was murder,” he said. “They’d say it was murder.”
    I began to tremble. “My grandfather,” I began. “It was the same … almost exactly the same. … But this man was a murderer …”
    “What did you say they did to your grandfather?”
    I replied through chattering teeth: “They were going to hang him but my grandmother saved him … and then they sent him away for seven years. It was considered a light sentence.”
    Ben was silent. He could not take his eyes from the man.
    I said slowly: “Ben … no one must know.”
    “They’d find out,” he said.
    “How?”
    “They do. There are clues and things like that. You don’t know you’ve left them but they find something you didn’t think was important. And what about this blood?”
    He stood for a while in silence staring at the water. “That’s it,” he