Graham dashed around the doorframe and into the room. Mr. Throckmorten had abandoned his cards to run to the window, but Mr. Durbridge was still seated at the table, cigar in mouth and whisky in hand.
Mr. Durbridge stared at him in alarm.
Graham rushed forward.
As though expecting a blow, Mr. Durbridge flinched so hard he spilled his whisky and tumbled out of his chair. He left the sticky glass on the ground and leapt to his feet, fists raised in boxing stance.
“There’s a woman running toward us,” Mr. Throckmorten called.
Kunigunde was heading their way.Perfect.
Graham shoved the clay pig into his canvas satchel and hurled it out through the open window, with enough force to carry it all the way to Kunigunde in the middle of the garden.
Or at least, itwouldhave done so, if Mr. Throckmorten, turning to see why his friend was not responding, had not stepped right into the flying projectile’s path.
Instead of arcing smoothly over the garden, the interrupted pig crashed into his forehead and thunked to the floor on the interior side of the windowsill.
Mr. Throckmorten tumbled flat onto the carpet, out cold, having come face-to-face with his own greed. A hard lesson, indeed.
Graham darted forward to scoop up the pig. Mr. Durbridge’s hand grasped the back of his coat. Graham tossed the satchel through the window.
Kunigunde rushed forward to rescue the pig.
“Go!”
Rather than run, she hesitated, clearly unwilling to leave him, not like this.
Graham could not bark explicit orders at her without Mr. Durbridge overhearing the plan. Perhaps if he dove through the window…
Mr. Durbridge grabbed for Graham’s other arm. Graham jerked loose, spinning out of the way—but farther from the window and freedom.
Kunigunde slid her hand beneath her spencer.
Her throwing knives.Shite.Graham definitely couldn’t allow her to commit a capital offense while trying to save him.
As Mr. Durbridge made another attempt to pin him in place, Graham thrust one hand in the air and was almost finished signingTake horse to Jacob. Give money to princess. Change into uniform!before he remembered Kunigunde wouldn’t understand. He’d attempted to sign to her the day they’d met, to no avail. Whywoulda Balcovian Royal Guardswoman need to know English sign language?
But she pulled her hand away from her throwing knives to make three rapid gestures:You escape fast.Then she hugged the pig and took off running.
Once Graham recovered from the surprise that she had understood him, he realized Kunigunde would not beableto mount the horse without his aid. Instead, she was running across the garden toward the rear path as fast as she could go with a heavy satchel weighing her down.
He tried to leap forward, but Mr. Durbridge stood in the way—this time, with a pistol in his hand.
Graham held up his palms and froze in place.
The inspector yanked the bellpull hard enough to free the rope and grappled for Graham’s arms to tie his wrists together. By now, the servants had heard the bell and would come running. There was little time to act. At this short range, a bullet was bound to find its mark.
At least Kunigunde was on the far side of the garden, well out of harm’s way.
He waited until Mr. Durbridge lowered his pistol to tie the loose ends of the rope together. Then Graham dashed forward in a burst of energy. He shook the coil of rope from his wrists as he ran and threw himself through the open window headfirst.
As Graham flew through the air, Mr. Throckmorten, still lying in a heap before the window and thereby blocking Mr. Durbridge’s path, moaned for his inspector to come to his aid.
Graham made a somersault before he hit the ground, launching himself upright with one smooth movement. He sprinted away from the house toward the trees. With one hand, he snatched a long white rose from the bushes as he ran.
Twin shouts came from the window, but no report from the pistol. Mr. Throckmorten must still be blocking Mr. Durbridge’s path.
Graham didn’t pause to look. He was running, leaping, flying through the woods to the waiting horses.
