When they reached the corner at the corridor’s end, Gabriel stopped and released her hand. The distant light glistened off the sweat on his brow and illuminated the heavy rise and fall of his chest with each breath. He pressed his back flat against the wall, and with his pistol pointed upward, he inched to see around the corner.
As soon as he looked down the corridor, Clancy’s voice thundered. “Drop your weapon, Rowe.”
Ella watched, helpless, breathless, as Gabriel held up both hands, as if in surrender, and stepped out into the adjacent corridor.
Who was he facing? Only Mr. Clancy? Mr. Gutt?
Gabriel did not look back at her. He stared, unblinking, expressionless, straight ahead.
“What have we here?” The amusement echoing in Clancy’s tone sickened her. “How did you get out, I wonder?”
When Gabriel did not respond, Clancy continued, “Go ahead and put that pistol down. Slowly now.”
Ella searched for any clue she could. She might not be able to see what was going on, but judging by the sound of Mr. Clancy’s voice, he was very close . . . likely right around the corner.
Gabriel, his hands still in the air, eyes locked on Mr. Clancy, slowly bent down to place the pistol on the ground.
As he was moving, Ella crouched close to the ground and pivoted to see farther out. The light from the main room was behind Mr. Clancy, and as she leaned closer, she spied his long shadow.
Her breath caught. There was only one shadow.
Her optimism soared.
Clancy was alone.
It was the two of them—she and Gabriel. Against one man.
Close to her ankle was a wooden bucket with a rope handle. Just as Gabriel’s weapon clinked on the stone floor, Ella, determined to distract Mr. Clancy, grabbed the bucket and hurled it out into the perpendicular corridor, just behind Gabriel.
Mr. Clancy swore, and in that singular moment of diversion, Gabriel lunged in Mr. Clancy’s direction.
Ella leapt forward and snatched Gabriel’s pistol from the ground. She turned in time to see Gabriel push Mr. Clancy’s arm with his pistol straight up.
Mr. Clancy’s pistol discharged.
Ella screamed, and the sound incited cries of alarm from the main room.
Gabriel pinned Mr. Clancy’s arm behind his back and thenshoved him against the wall, but then Mr. Clancy spun out from the hold and slammed a heavy fist into Gabriel’s jaw.
Ella did the only thing she could think to do. She pointed the gun at Mr. Clancy with shaking hands. “I’ll shoot!”
Mr. Clancy jolted his head toward her.
Gabriel took advantage of Mr. Clancy’s momentary bemusement and spun away from his hold. In mere seconds Gabriel was at Ella’s side. He took the pistol from her and turned it on Mr. Clancy. “Against the wall. Now!”
As Gabriel laid hands on Clancy, men rushed from the tavern.
One of the men, who was obviously familiar with Gabriel, helped him subdue Clancy. “What do you need us to do? We’ve already sent for more constables.”
“Good.” Gabriel nodded toward the corridor. “There is a man around the corner. Apprehend him. He’s injured. He’ll need attention.”
The space was suddenly alive with activity—men rushing to and fro. Chaos ensued, but a calm settled over Ella. Could this really almost be over?
Once two of the men escorted Mr. Clancy away, Gabriel faced her, red-faced and breathless. “Where did you last see Miss Grenshaw?”
“In one of the chambers on the first floor.”
“This is Prior,” Gabriel said, introducing the man with black hair and a pudgy nose who’d spoken when the other men arrived. “I want you to go with him and stay with him until I get back.”
