What happened in that instant happened in a flash. Martin fell on his knees beside the woman. Burke, half dazed as he was, flung out his great fist and caught Blunt on the temple. There came a cry from the two who had been hidden behind the screen. Derrick leaped up. He saw Perkins, her breast stained scarlet, with Martin beside her, rocking in an abandonment of grief. Against the wall, as though it had been thrown there like a rag, huddled the insensible figure of the peddler. Burke was breathing hard and already fumbling at the lock of the handcuff that bound him to the gardener. On one side stood Jean and Edith, their eyes starting with horror.
In a moment the sergeant got himself free with a clink of metal. He glowered at the inert body of Blunt with a sort of animal satisfaction, then, kneeling beside Perkins, stared at her hard, and finally put his big head against that crimson heart. Martin did not move but gave one long shuddering sigh. A moment thus, till Burke heaved up, his face very grave, and made an unmistakable gesture. At that Edith put her arms round Jean and held the girl close.
“I’ll take charge now, sir,” said Burke grimly. “These two men must come to the station with me. As for this poor woman, we can’t do better than take her to the cottage, if you don’t mind her being there till morning, and I’ll send a man up there as soon as possible. And,” he added, “perhaps I’d better take this knife for safe-keeping till the inquest.”
“No, no!” Martin turned his grief-stricken face, clutching at the officer’s arm. “For God’s sake don’t do that. Let me stay with her,” he implored hoarsely.
Burke stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t leave her in the cottage with any one but me. I’ll be there in the morning. I won’t run away. I’ll do anything else you like, but for God’s sake let me stay with her to-night!”
Burke shook his head. “You’ll do what you’re told, and do it now. What is this woman to you?”
“My wife,” groaned Martin, and burst into throttling sobs.
Utter silence fell upon this room of death. Against the wall, Blunt gave a slow shiver and raised his head, regarding the scene with a strange calm, as though such tragedies were only passing incidents in a still greater drama. He made no attempt to move but lay there, resting on one elbow, part of it all, but infinitely removed. Derrick stared at the two girls. Edith’s arms were still round Jean, but their eyes were fixed on what lay on the floor. Jean looked at the man she loved. The terror was leaving her face, being replaced by a vast incomprehensible wonder mingled with a profound pity. In that moment she was his, and yet unspeakably distant. It was like traversing a forest of dreadful shadows and emerging, suddenly blinded, into the light, where one had to find oneself before seeing anything else. A great pity enveloped her altogether. She came quickly forward and knelt beside the still form.
“Jack, you must ask the sergeant to permit that. Don’t you understand? One poor woman among all these men,” she whispered. “Oh, the poor, poor soul!”