Never, in all his life before, had he experienced anything that could compare with it, and even as Prenderby watched him he saw the last traces of the cautious methodical expert vanish and the new, impulsive, pugnacious fighter come into being.
‘Michael,’ he said suddenly, ‘keep an eye on Campion. His story may be absolutely true – it sounds like it – but we can’t afford to risk anything. Keep him up in my room so that he can hide in the passage if need be. You’ll have to smuggle food up to him somehow. Cheer the others up if you can.’ Prenderby looked at him anxiously.
‘What are you going to do?’ he said.
Abbershaw set his teeth.
‘I’m going to see them,’ he said. ‘There’s been enough of this mucking about. There is going to be some sort of understanding, anyway. Damn it all! They’ve got my girl!’ Turning on his heel he strode off down the passage.
A green-baize door cut off that portion of the house where Dawlish had established his headquarters. He passed through it without any interruption, and reached the door of the room that had once been Colonel Coombe’s bedchamber.
He tapped on it loudly, and it was opened immediately by a man he had never seen before, a heavy bull of a fellow whom he guessed to be one of the servants.
‘What do you want?’ he demanded suspiciously.
‘Mr Dawlish,’ said Abbershaw, and attempted to push past him.
A single blow, violent as a mule kick, sent him flying back against the opposite wall of the corridor, and the giant glowered at him.