Jackson lunged, wrapping an arm like a great hook around the fellow’s legs as he flew through the air. Yanking him sideways. Tugging him back.
They hit hard. Ribs and hips smacking against bricks. Skulls skidding. For a long moment, Jackson lay dazed. Everything sounded muffled, as if he were underwater. And then it all roared back.
“Look a’ that! He killed him!”
“Shoulda let the fellow take his own dive ’stead o’ finishing off the sod hisself.”
“Mebbe they’re both dead.”
Maybe—except a corpse wouldn’t have such a banger of a headache and shooting pains in his side. Jackson pushed to all fours, testing his strength, then rolled over to sit. Five pairs of eyeballs gaped, and suddenly he understood how a freak at a sideshow felt.
Shaking it all off, he leaned over the body next to him. The man in the scarlet coat lay back towards him, deathly still. Blast! Had he killed him?
God, no. Please! I wished to save the fellow, not harm him.
With a firm yet gentle touch, Jackson rolled the man flat on his back. Morning sun glinted off gold paint embellishing a black mask that covered the top half of his face, from hairline to just above his lips. Had the fellow perchance been to a masquerade the night before and forgotten to remove the covering?
And still, he didn’t move.
“He did kill ’im!” A bushy-bearded onlooker pointed a thick finger at Jackson. A collective “oohhh” whooshed like an unholy wind as the rest of the gawpers closed in.
“Back off!” Jackson barked. “Give the man some breathing space.” Pressing a light touch to the fellow’s neck, he felt for a pulse. Weak, but there. Thank God!
Jackson nudged him in the arm. “Are you all right, mate?”
Through the holes in the mask, the man’s lids fluttered as if his eyes were flickering back and forth. A good sign, that.
“Hey!” Jackson slapped his cheek. “There’s a good fellow. Talk to me.”
A moan rumbled in the man’s throat. His lips parted. Air rushed in and gushed out several times. His eyelashes quivered momentarily, and then eyes dark as bootblack flicked open.
“That’s it.” Jackson grinned. “Take some more deep breaths.”
“What—” The man’s voice squeaked. “What happened?”
“That devil nearly kilt ye, tha’s what!” Once again Mr. Bushy Beard stabbed a finger at Jackson.
He stiffened. Of all the inane accusations. “Show’s over,” he snapped as he flipped up his lapel, flashing the badge he kept hidden. “Be off, all of you, before I lug you in for failure to act in saving a life.”
A bogus charge, but the sudden fleeing of feet testified the morbid spectators didn’t know any better.
He wrapped an arm around the man’s bony shoulders. “How about we get you sitting up, eh? Might be easier to gather your wits when the world isn’t upside down.”
He gave the man a heave-ho, though he needn’t have put so much force into it. The fellow couldn’t have weighed any more than Kit, so effortless was it to ease him against the railings. “There now, feeling better?”
Ebony eyes blinked behind the gaudy mask, yet the fellow said nothing. Was the face covering hindering his breathing? Jackson reached for the black ribbon. “Perhaps if we removed this—”
“No!” The man batted away his hand with surprising strength. Great tears welled, breaking loose in a stream behind the mask. “No, no, no,” he wailed, folding at the waist.
Jackson rubbed his hands along his trousers, unsure what to do. Had hitting the pavement so hard unhinged the man completely so that he could no longer cope? But no. Clearly he’d already been disturbed—and greatly at that—or he’d have not been on the bridge railing in the first place. This fellow needed help, the sort of which he wasn’t trained to give. And yet he had to do something.
“Come now.” Jackson patted him lightly on the back, bones sharp against his palm despite the padding of his thick suit coat. The man’s garments were of the finest quality, so lack of money couldn’t be the thing that drove him to end it all…unless the fellow had recently lost his wealth. “It cannot be all that bad. There is no problem too great that our good and gracious Lord cannot help us with.”
“You do not understand,” he yowled.
“So enlighten me.”
A great shudder shook his shoulders, then he jerked upright and stared at Jackson with red-rimmed eyes. “I should be dead!”
