5_4

The pony was old and slow and it was well past mid day by the time they reached the field where a small crowd was still gathered. Bailey saw them and came over to talk, but even his usual calm cracked when he caught sight of the body in the wagon.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” he swore. “Not another one.”
“We heard about the girl” de Hogue said, “is she over there?”
“Aye, and she’s dead alright”.
They left the wagon where it was and walked across the field. As they approached the dead girl, several of the crowd had taken note of the wagon and as they passed these, Bailey told them to go home and arm themselves.
The rain had stopped, but the wind had grown stronger, and Sarah Tyler’s blonde hair fluttered sadly in the chilling breeze. All around her, the long grass streamed and moved like the sea.
Thatcher took one look then left them and Bailey and de Hogue stood alone, staring down at the body.

She lay on her back. Almost in the same position as Samuel Harrow had been with her arms spread wide to either side.
Her stomach had been ripped open and her entrails dragged from her to lie in dark sticky masses between her legs. The ground was dark with more blood stretching away.
De Hogue bent down and shifted her hair aside to see her face. Her unseeing eyes, half closed, and the look on her face gave her a dull shocked expression and as he looked down on her, he could almost imagine her alive and talking.
Suddenly he stood and he took several steps away from her before his stomach heaved and he fell to his knees in sudden heaving sobs. Behind him Bailey stood in silence. Although he was not moved in the same manner, he felt the same way and he stared out to sea with an empty expression.
Eventually Thatcher returned with a few of the men from the village and a wooden door. Gently they lifted the girl onto the door and de Hogue pulled off his coat to decently cover her. In silence they carried her back to the wagon.


That afternoon, in Bailey’s front room, the four men of law and order sat around the table in silence. Arkwright was the only one who seemed unaffected by the events of the day, but he kept quiet all the same. He had had to almost carry Melchior back to the cottage, and the London man was still pale and silent as he sat and examined his hands.
“I sent another report back to Chatham” Bailey told de Hogue.
Rubbing his chin, de Hogue nodded. “What about McKee?”
“Doctor Farrell is taking him back tomorrow unless he gets any worse.” Bailey replied.
“Can he speak?” de Hogue asked. “Is he right in the head?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him, why?”
“I keep thinking about what he said when we saw him” de Hogue’s face twitched as if he were embarrassed by this revelation.
“Ah, yes… the dragon?” Bailey replied with a humourless snort. “What of it?”
“Nothing really. I just want to know what it was he really saw” de Hogue answered slowly.
“What’s this about a dragon?” Arkwright asked. Bailey told him about McKee and what the delirious sailor had said. Arkwright remained silent but his face betrayed his scepticism. He looked at de Hogue and the Admiralty man returned his gaze.
“I know what it sounds like” he replied, “but I’m not about to go hunting for a dragon, believe me. I just want to talk to McKee and find out what he really saw that night… if indeed he saw anything at all!”
“There’s no harm in asking” Bailey replied neutrally.
De Hogue nodded in affirmation, then left the room. He returned briefly wearing his second coat and holding his boarding pistol. “I won’t be long.”