After the Fire by John Pilkington

horror-stricken man raised a trembling hand, and pointed at the table.
    ‘The Salamander,’ he said hoarsely. ‘He lives, and he sends me a sign!’ And as the others watched, he fell back into his chair, staring vacantly into the air.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    A short while later, at Betsy’s suggestion, Lord Caradoc’s coach was despatched to Doctor Tom Catlin’s house with a message that his services were urgently required. Meanwhile, Alderman Blake had been laid on a couch in a downstairs parlour at Bredon House, where he remained motionless, his face drained of all colour. Betsy and the Bettertons stayed by him, but it was clear they could do little. Lady Arabella had retired to her chamber, overcome by the excitement. Her husband, furious at the disaster the evening had become, spent some time shouting at his hapless servants before disappearing to another part of the house. After a while he reappeared, striding into the room with a look of exasperation.
    ‘This business grows stranger by the hour,’ Caradoc cried. ‘For my cook denies that he made the pie! Says he knew nothing of it until it was delivered from a bake-shop, soon after we sat down to dine. He didn’t even trouble to ask the fellow who brought it, which bakery it came from! He assumed the dish was something special I’d arranged, and ordered it to be carried to the table. What think you of that?’
    Nobody answered, until Betterton cleared his throat. ‘If you trust the man, my lord, then what else can you do but accept his account as true?’
    ‘Of course I trust him,’ Caradoc snapped. ‘He’s been with me for years.’ He peered at Blake. ‘Has he still not spoken?’
    ‘He appears to be in a shocked state, my lord,’ Mary Betterton answered. ‘Then who would not be, who witnessed what we all did?’ She turned to her husband. ‘What in heaven’s name was that fearful-looking animal?’
    Betterton threw her a helpless look. ‘My lord, I fear there’s little we can contribute here,’ he said. ‘With your leave, I would like to take my wife home.’
    Caradoc nodded. ‘We will speak again, of this.’ He frowned. ‘From my end of the table I couldn’t hear what he said, when he pointed to the creature. Did you hear?’
    Both Betterton and his wife shook their heads. Samuel Tripp, who had been sitting to one side of the room wearing his customary cynical expression, merely shrugged. But Betsy spoke up. ‘The Salamander, my lord. That’s what he called it.’
    ‘Salamander?’ Caradoc’s frown deepened. ‘But that’s a mythical beast, isn’t it? I’m no scientist, but what crawled out of that pie was a lizard of some kind. Anyone who’s walked in the country knows that!’
    ‘I fear you are mistaken, my lord,’ came a voice from the doorway. Betsy looked round, to see Tom Catlin in his Brandenburg coat. As the others turned, the doctor came forward and made his bow.
    ‘I’ve seen them on the continent, in warmer climes than ours,’ he added politely. ‘They are not lizards, but a type of newt, I believe, and quite harmless.’
    ‘The devil, you say!’ Caradoc stared at him, then gestured towards the prone figure of Alderman Blake. ‘But if this man knew what it was, why was he so afflicted? I know a look of terror when I see one.’
    ‘I can’t say, sir,’ Catlin answered. ‘With your leave, may I examine him?’
    ‘If you please.’ Caradoc stood aside, while the doctor took a chair and placed it close to the patient. As he sat he glanced at Betsy, who at once understood.
    ‘Might I remain, my Lord?’ she asked. ‘I may be able to assist the doctor in some way.’
    Caradoc nodded absently, then turned to the Bettertons, who were ready to take their leave. Tripp too, seeing he was surplus to requirements, rose and made his bow. The playmaker accepted Betterton’s offer of a ride home. As he followed the others out he threw Betsy a pointed look, which she ignored.
    The farewells over, Betsy and Catlin were alone