My heart began pounding with fear. I struggled to breathe, but I had to be strong.

"Why are you here?" I whispered. The words seemed unwilling to pass my lips as I looked around, looking for an escape. There was only one entrance and he was beside it. I had gone in too far to make a run for the archway so I stepped back a few paces.

"I ain't goin' to 'urt you, Miss. You don't need to fear."

I repeated my question.

"Then why are you here, Private Manston?"

"I din't do it, Miss 'arcourt. I promise you, I din't."

I moved back a little more.

"Didn't do what, exactly?" I was trembling violently now, scared to death of what he might do.

"I din't kill Maggie, Miss. I couldn't, I loved her."

He stepped towards me and I let out a little squeal of panic and held up my hands.

He stopped, his eyes pleading.

"Miss, 'arcourt, please. I din't kill Maggie and I ain't goin' t' 'urt you neither!"

I didn't reply but remained standing, shaking, staring. I looked down at his hand, hanging at his side. The bandage was loose and dirty and he held the unravelled end in his fist, preventing it coming off. It was stained with dried blood.

He lifted his fist and looked at the dressing.

"I know 'ow it looks, Miss...." He looked at me once more, "But I wouln't 'ave 'urt 'er. Never in a million years."

"I saw you strike her, Charlie," I managed to say through lips as dry as paper. "I saw you knock her to the ground."

"Then you saw what she did about it. I was drunk and stupid." Again he looked at the floor for a moment then back at me. "I regretted that as soon as I did it but Maggie ain't... " he checked himself, "weren't no shrinkin' violet, Miss, you must've seen what she did."

"I saw her the next morning. Her face was black and blue!" I said, my courage slowly returning. I was still trembling inside but I had stopped shaking. "She said one of the maids had left a cupboard door open and she had walked into it!"

Manston seemed to physically shrink as his shoulders sagged forwards.

"Strange as it may seem, Miss, she loved me too. She would protect me even after I did that to her. I've been such a fool. It is no wonder you suspect me of killing her."

I looked again at his hand. He saw where I was looking and once again raised his hand. It seemed to dawn on him, all of a sudden, what I was thinking.

His eyes opened wide.

"You think I did this by 'itting her, don't you!"

I did not reply but held his gaze.

"Oh Lord," he mumbled, "What a mess." Then again he looked at me. "If you you don't believe me, no-one will."

"Why should I believe you?" I asked. "Just because you say it wasn't you. I heard what you told her about why you had so much money. You said people pay you to tell them things. Are you a German spy too?"

"Spy, Miss?" his mouth wide open now. "No, 'course I ain't. Maggie told me about things what went on in the 'ouse. She told me about the maid what got caned and she 'ad to soothe. You know, Miss, you were there."

"You told complete strangers about the private things that go on in this house? You despicable man, Charlie Manston! And did Maggie know about this?"

"'eavens, Miss, 'course she din't! She would've ripped out my tongue if she knew! She told me these things to excite me when we... well, y' know."

I stood silently, not sure what to believe. It occurred to me that he didn't seem to know what had killed her. He thought that his fist incriminated him which, of course, it didn't. Maggie had been flogged, not beaten and I had seen with my own eyes that he had slapped her, not punched her. I began to think that it was quite possible that he was telling the truth.

"Just supposing I do believe you," I offered. "Will you come to the Police and clear yourself. Tell them all you know?"

"You mean you would help me?" He looked doubtful.

"If you come to the Police I will be with you but that does not necessarily mean I trust you, Charlie Manston. However, I am willing to listen."

"You better not trick me!" he replied as he stepped towards me. I stepped quickly backwards.

"I will not trick you," I promised. "But you either trust me or you are on your own."

"All right, then, I'll come with you," he said.

"Good," I answered. "But first, we will go to see Doctor Harris and get your hand cleaned."

"Doctor 'arris won't see me for a scraped 'and!" he exclaimed. "He is a surgeon!"

"Oh, he will if I ask him to," I replied.

"Why 'im and not a medic?" Manston frowned, suddenly appearing very doubtful.

"I told you, Charlie. You either trust me or you are on you own."

"All right,” he sighed. “I ain't got no choice, 'ave I?"

"No." I said, "You haven't. There is one more thing I need to know."

Again, he looked nervous.

"I don't know any more, Miss, I told it weren't me."

"This is something else," I said carefully. "The night I arrived, I saw you loading a lorry with supplies. Were you and Maggie selling the army's rations on the black market?"

"Black market?" he almost shouted. "I don't steal from me mates. That were a legit load. Captain Philpott told us to move it to a warehouse to make space in the storeroom." His jaw dropped. "You thought we was stealing it?"

I frowned but decided to say no more for the time being.

"Stay here and keep quiet. I will go and tell Doctor Harris we are coming so you are not arrested on the way to him."

"And what if someone comes before you get back?" he was getting jittery again.

"Then you will be no worse off that if they got here before me, will you?"

"No, I suppose not," he replied.

"Well then?" I said "Are you going to let me pass?"

He stepped sullenly to one side and I went to pass him. As I did he grabbed my arm and I gasped. A little frightened whimper passed my lips.

"Please hurry, I am trusting you with my life," was all he said before releasing me.

I ran through the archway and away across the grass to the main entrance.

The guard stepped out from his office as I ran through the large doorway.

"'ere, 'ere, Miss, slow down. You all right?"

"Doctor Harris,' I gasped. "Where is he?"

"I believe he's in his office. D'you want me to call 'im?"

I didn't stop to answer but ran ran down the hall to his door. Behind me I barely heard the guard shout after me.

"Oi, 'old on! You can't just..."

I quickly reached the third door and banged my fist against before turning the knob and running in.

Doctor Harris was sitting at his desk across from Aunt Helen. Papers covered the surface.

"Victoria!" my aunt exclaimed, "What on earth is going on?"

"Charlie Manston!" I replied, gasping for breath, "He is in the garden."

"Is he now!" Doctor Harris picked up the telephone before him.

"No, wait, I don't think it was him!" I almost shouted, so desperate was I that he didn't call the guard.

"Calm down, Victoria. Get your breath." Aunt Helen was standing now. "What exactly is going on?"

I took a deep breath.

"Charlie Manston is hiding in the garden, Aunt Helen. He thinks he is the suspect because of his hand. He doesn't seem to know exactly what happened."

I turned to the Doctor.

"Doctor Harris, if you could look at his hand maybe you could tell how he injured it. When I saw him hit Maggie, he slapped her with his open hand. He didn't punch her."

The surgeon looked first at Aunt Helen then back at myself.

"Yes, all right," he replied. "Take us to him."

I led them back along the hallway and out to the entrance hall.

The guard was still there.

"I'm sorry , Sir," he began "I..," but my aunt waved him away and he stood transfixed as we all rushed out of the door.

"Oh crikey!" I thought as I saw Thomas going through the archway ahead of us, praying that Manston would keep quiet.

I ran faster, and in through the archway just as Charlie Manston pushed him aside to run out.

"Thomas!" I cried out, as he fell to the side into the flower bed, hitting his head on the terracotta border stones as he went down.

"What have you done?" I screamed as Doctor Harris grabbed Manston and wrestled him to the ground.

I knelt beside the seemingly unconscious man and took his hand. His bandage had slipped from over his eyes and begun to unravel.

The Doctor looked Manston directly in the eye.

"Move from that spot and I will have you shot!" he said harshly, then ran over to where Thomas lay prone and unmoving.

Taking his hand from me the doctor looked for a pulse and found it almost instantly.

At that moment, Thomas opened his eyes.

"Oh my goodness," he whispered, "You are so beautiful!"

"You can see?" I asked in astonishment.

As the words left my lips his eyes rolled up into his head, his face contorted and his body stiffened then convulsed violently, thrashing about. Doctor Harris dragged me to my feet and pulled me away from him.

"Damn it!" he cursed. "He is having another bad fit. Quickly!" he said to me, "Run and get some orderlies and tell them to bring a stretcher. Hurry!" he urged.

I did not need telling twice and turned and ran as hard as I could. I bumped into the guard who was coming to see what the fuss was.

"Orderlies, stretcher..Now!", I shouted to him and he ran back to the house.

Manston was still on the ground, my aunt watching him like a hawk.

"If you have hurt him...!" I snarled.

"It were an accident, Miss, I did'nt mean 'im to fall, I thought 'e were the guard. I panicked."

I glared at him then returned to Thomas' side. He was still fitting but not so violently now and gradually he calmed until his body gave a few small twitches and lay still.

Doctor Harris took his wrist once again and timed his pulse against his pocket watch.

As he did so the orderlies ran in with a stretcher.

"Get him to his room, quickly and make sure he gets his medication.

His pulse is very weak."

With great urgency but carefully, the orderlies placed Thomas' prone figure upon the canvas litter and ran as quickly as they could, back towards the house.

By this time the guard had returned with two others. They were holding Charlie, one either side. He made no effort to escape. He obviously realised what trouble he was in without making it worse.

They seemed unsure what to do with him until Doctor Harris approached them. Standing in front of the hapless Manston, he looked at him as if deciding what to make of him.

"Your hand!" he finally growled.

Manston offered it meekly to the doctor who took it and began to carefully unwind the bandage until the wound was open to the air.

"How did you do this?" he asked after turning it and carefully examining the damaged flesh.

"I did it yesterday morning, Sir. I told Miss Victoria when I took her to Ipswich with the Major-General."

"I asked how you did it, not when," the doctor replied curtly.

Manston looked at him, lost, a broken man.

"I was crankin' the engine to start the car, Sir. The 'andle kicked back and I scraped my knuckle across the radiator."

"Did anyone see this?" Doctor Harris asked. "Who dressed it?"

"No, Sir, no-one saw me. I dressed it meself from the first aid box."

Hold his gaze for a few moments, Doctor Harris then turned to the guard.

"Take him to my office and make sure he stays there. I shall be along shortly."

"Shoudln't we lock 'im up, Sir?" the guard said.

"Do as you are told, Private. Unless you wish me to take this up with the Major-General..."

"As you wish, Sir." came the hurried reply and Charlie Manston was quickly ushered away in the direction of the house.

"And get one of the nurses to clean that wound and redress it!" he called after them.

All the time this had been happening, Aunt Helen had stood beside me, her arm around my shoulder. When Doctor Harris turned back to us, I waited anxiously for his opinion.

"I think he is telling the truth about his hand, you know," the doctor spoke carefully, as if weighing up the possibility that Manston may not, after all, be the guilty party. "That is most certainly a scrape injury and it is dirty although not infected, but there is no sign of coal dust either in the wound or on the dressing and the fact that he dressed it himself is probably why the bandage was not secure."

Aunt Helen spoke up then.

"If he didn't do it, then who earth did?" she seemed to be asking herself. "I will telephone Sergeant Morgan immediately," she then said, somewhat louder.

"Yes, Helen, a good idea. Now then, Victoria." Doctor Harris turned to face me. "Would you come with me and we will see what we can find out from Manston. He seems to trust you."

"What about Thomas, Doctor Harris?" I was worried to say the least. "Should not you be taking care of him?"

William Harris smiled gently.

"There is nothing I can do for him, Victoria. He has not injured his head, physically. It was the shock that triggered the fit. Philomena will be with him and she will watch him but all she can do is make him comfortable. You know, Victoria, she is a very capable nurse, Thomas could not be in better care."

I sighed.

"Hmm, yes, I know" I replied and followed my aunt and the doctor back towards the house.

Aunt Helen walked quickly back to the East Wing as the doctor and I headed for the main entrance and, as we passed inside I saw Captain Philpott leading Charlie Manston away. Manston was handcuffed and, as he saw us he looked directly at me, his eyes pleading.

"Simon," Doctor Harris called out. "Where are you taking him?"

"This is an army matter, Doctor Harris," the Captain replied. "He will be dealt with by the Military Police."

Doctor Harris narrowed his eyes.

"Murder is a civil matter, Simon. The Police have been informed and will be here to interview him later."

Simon Philpott seemed uncertain and nervous but decided not to argue. He released his grip on his prisoner.

"Fine," he said. "You take the responsibility for him," and stormed away towards his own office.

"Captain Philpott!" Doctor Harris shouted after him. The officer stopped dead in his tracks and turned slowly back. His face was purple with anger. "The keys?"

He stomped back and unlocked the steel cuffs then turned on his heel and marched angrily away without another word word passing his pursed lips.

Back in the doctor's office, we all three sat down.

Manston sat quietly, head bowed. I looked first at him, then at the doctor.

Eventually I broke the silence.

"What is going on, Charlie. Why was Captain Philpott so keen to take you?"

"I don't know Miss, except that 'e is keen on doing things by the book. 'e don't like civilians getting involved with army matters."

At that moment, the telephone on the desk rang. Doctor Harris picked up the handset and listened for a moment. Eventually he spoke.

"Ah good. I would like to bring him to you if you don't mind, Helen. Keep him away from the army until Sergeant Morgan gets here at least."

He waited again, then, "Yes, good, thank you. We will bring him straight there."

He carefully replaced the receiver.

"You aunt has spoken to Sergeant Morgan. He is coming straight back."

He looked at Charlie Manston.

"Something is not right here, something I want to get to the bottom of."

"I don't know what you mean, Sir. I don't know anything," Manston replied, fearfully. "I told, Miss 'arcourt what I 'ad done. I don't know about nothin' else."

"Do you want to hang for murder?" the doctor asked.

"I din't do it, I told yer!" Manston wailed.

"Then I suggest you co-operate with us. We are going to the East Wing. If you so much as even think about running, you will be alone. There will be no second chance. Do I make myself clear?"

Manston nodded eagerly.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." He turned to me. "And thank you too, Miss 'arcourt. Maggie said you was all right."

I smiled at him. I was certain, now, that he was not a murderer. How we would find out who did kill Maggie was beyond me. I hoped that Sergeant Morgan would have a clue.

We walked quickly along the hall back to the main entrance. Thankfully, Captain Philpott was nowhere to be seen.

The guard watched us as we passed but had the sense to say nothing.

"Doctor Harris," I said, as we passed through the doorway. "Do you mind if I go to see Thomas for a moment?"

"Of course, Victoria. Philomena will be there. Please take her direction. It is important that Thomas is disturbed as little as possible."

"I am sorry about 'urting 'im, Miss 'arcourt, 'onest I am. I really din't mean to," Charlie Manston suddenly spoke up. "I was scared, Miss."

"All right, Charlie," I said, believing him to be sincere. "I am sure you did not. Now you must prove yourself by helping us to find Maggie's killer."

"Yes, Miss," he replied. "I will."

I smiled and turned away and ran up the grand staircase to find Thomas' room.

The door was sightly ajar when I arrived so I pushed it gently and quietly passed inside.

Philomena looked up.

"How is he?" I asked her.

"Not good I'm afraid," she answered sadly. "He didn't bump his head hard but the shock of falling triggered a very severe fit, as you saw."

I looked at his serene face. So young yet old at the same time. Philomena had not bandaged his eyes again but had re-bandaged his head. "He saw me, Phil," I whispered, the tears welling in my eyes. "He saw me."

"He did? Well, that is a good sign. It means his eyes are not physically damaged. Maybe some good can come out of this after all."

She stood and lifted his eyelids. His eyes were still turned upwards but now I could see that there was a glimmer of life in them.

"Will you stay with him?" I asked her, "Until he comes round?"

"For as long as I can," she smiled as she returned to her seat. "He will not be alone anyway. He is in good hands, Victoria."

She held up her hand and I took it. She squeezed gently. As she did so, I took Thomas' hand and di the same, trying in some way to tell to cling to life.

There was no movement, nothing to tell me he knew I was there.

Releasing his hand I wiped my eyes.

"I must go back, Phil. Is it all right to come back later?"

Again, she smiled. That sweet, friendly smile I had seen when I first met her.

"Yes," she replied and squeezed my hand again. "I think it will help him. If there is any change I will let you know."

I leaned forwards and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you," I said and turned slowly away.

I left with a heavy heart. I had only known Thomas for a couple of days but he had become so special to me.

"How is he?" Doctor Harris and my aunt asked simultaneously when I returned to the East wing.

They were in the dining room.

"I am not sure," I told them. "Philomena says there is still no change. He just lays there, so still, barely breathing." Again, the tears began to form. This time it was Aunt Helen who took my hand.

"That is how the human body repairs itself," Doctor Harris said. "It closes down everything it doesn't need to concentrate all it's energy into repairing the damaged part, in this case, his brain."

A deep breath and then, "I suppose so," as I looked across at Charlie Manston. He was sitting still, hands clasped on his knees and head hanging down. I could not me angry at him now. The important thing was to find out who killed Maggie... before they killed someone else.

To be continued...