Page 90 of Beyond the Grave
"Walked into some furniture. Damned hard to see in here."
As if he just remembered he'd been holding it, Seth opened the shutter on the lantern he'd removed from the coach. Its circle of light didn't reach far but it was enough to help see the furniture before we walked into it.
"Which way?" he asked.
"Follow me."
I hurried along the gallery in the men's ward and tiptoed up the stairs at the end. Light came from one of the rooms ahead. A quick count of the doors told me it was Buchanan's dormitory. Murmurs drifted along the gallery, one male, the other female, but the words were drowned out by a high-pitched cry from the depths of the building.
I froze. Seth crowded close at my back, his presence a comfort until I felt him shiver. "What was that?" he whispered.
"Garvey," McIlroy said. "He's always making a fuss at night. I think he does it on purpose to get the orderly on duty out of bed. Don't know why he hasn't been subdued yet."
"Perhaps because the orderly's in there." I pointed to the door up ahead.
"Mystery solved. You're very clever, Miss Holloway." He chuckled, and I had to place a hand on his shoulder to shush him.
"Wait here." I crept closer to the door until my booted toes touched the light streaming out of the room. I peered around and saw the nurse and two orderlies standing over the bed where I'd seen McIlroy earlier in the day. A man with broad shoulders lay on his side, his black, curly hair splayed over the pillow. It was too long to be fashionable, too dark to be properly English.
I covered my mouth to smother my gasp. Oh, Lincoln.
I signaled for Seth to come closer. "We have to get him out," I whispered as he peered past me.
"Has he been injected with anything?"
I shrugged and looked into the room again.
"What a bloody mess," said one of the orderlies, a bulky man with a narrow face and receding hairline. "Why didn't you do something, Mathews?"
"I tried, but he had the knife," said the younger orderly.
"It's done now," the nurse said. "No use crying over spilled milk."
The narrow faced orderly snorted. "Spilled something, all right, but it ain't milk. How're we going to clean this mess up?"
"Linen'll have to be thrown out," the young orderly said. "Mattress scrubbed, blankets washed. Bloody lot of work."
"Aye." Narrow-face grabbed Lincoln by the arms and hauled him into a sitting position.
That's when I saw all the blood. It was everywhere. It coated the length of his arms, his hands and chest. It covered the blankets and matted his hair.
"No!" I muttered. "Oh, God." Hot tears welled. I felt myself tipping forward, falling onto my knees.
Someone caught me—Seth perhaps. I clutched at his arm and stared at the lifeless body being hefted from the bed. So much blood…
I pulled away from Seth and lurched into the room, stumbling forward on weak, wobbling legs. The orderly dropped the body in surprise and leapt back with a shout. But I only had eyes for—
It wasn't Lincoln. The lifeless man lying on the bed had darker skin and a softer, younger face. I fell to my knees anyway, in relief, and sobbed.
The nurse let out a high scream that was louder and more terrifying than anything I'd heard in this place. She shrank back against the wall, her wide eyes on something behind me. McIlroy, I assumed.
"Seth, it's not him!" I shouted above the noise.
"I can see that." He planted his feet and prepared to fight as Narrow-face ran at us.
"Give us what we want and we'll leave," I said, regaining my courage and my strength. "No one will be hurt if you give us Mr. Buchanan."
Narrow-face didn't seem to hear me. He lunged at Seth. Seth dodged the fist and rolled on top of the body on the bed, then fell off the other side with a thud.
