The door creaked open.
“We’ll have to be quick,” came a hushed voice. “You look under that cloth-covered table, and be sure to put your gloves on first. Jane is so careless, this room is no doubt swarming with germs.”
“Yes, Jem dear.”
“And just look at the shambles on this writing desk! It is as though someone has pulled everything out of the drawers. I do declare, if the weapon is in this room, it has probably been rendered useless by dust.”
“What—”
“Hush! Is that someone at the door? Hide!”
Daniel pressed his forehead wearily against the back of the sofa—and thus escaped being kicked in the face as the great hulking body of Jake Jacobsen catapulted over to squat awkwardly in the crowded shadows.
“Good evening,” he said to the men. He nodded to Alice. “Ma’am.”
“Well I never!” came Miss Darlington’s voice. “What are you doing, Gertrude, hiding behind the drapesIwas intending to use as concealment?”
Suddenly the door opened, and feminine gasps arose.
“Miss Fairweather!” cried Miss Darlington.
“Never fear, Jem! I will save you!” Jake rose like a troll whose bridge had just been overrun by goats. The sofa rocked violently as his shoulder knocked against it, bashing into Mr. Rotunder, who tipped over with a cry, taking Jake down again with him. The man’s head smacked into Alice and she lurched instinctively away. Daniel reached out to steady her before she crashed against a lamp-bearing cabinet, but his own elbow hit a vase-bearing cabinet, causing it to topple. Catching the vase before it reached the floor, he tripped against Mr. Rotunder,who fell backward, knocking Alice off her knees. Within seconds, the entire company behind the sofa was a tangle of limbs.
“Ahem,”Miss Darlington said. Her cane tapped against the floor. Like chastened children, the agents, Jake, and Mr. Rotunder clambered to their feet. They looked out across the sofa at Jane Fairweather.
Who had either aged five decades at the sight of so many people secreted in her sitting room or was in fact MissMurielFairweather, Jane’s grandmother.
“What is going on?” the lady demanded, hands on hips, hair feathers flapping.
“What do you think?” Miss Darlington replied, leaning nonchalantly on her cane.
“Something nefarious!”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Rotunder scoffed. “Just a spot of light after-dinner burglary.”
Miss Fairweather’s eyes narrowed as she considered this response. Daniel held his breath. He noticed Alice slip a hand into the pocket where she kept her gun.
Then Miss Fairweather shrugged. “Sounds reasonable. Has anyone looked inside that rosewood box yet?”
“Aaaaggghhh!”
At the sudden scream arising from the corridor, Daniel just about leaped out of his skin. He and Alice immediately drew their guns. The pirates glanced mildly at the door.
“My word!” Mr. Rotunder exclaimed. “Is that a Webley Mark I revolver you’re holding, Mrs. Blakeney? Those are cracker guns, from what I’ve heard. Can I try it for a minute? Say yes.”
“Aaaaggghhh—huh—aaaaggghhh!!”
As Alice wrestled with Mr. Rotunder for possession of her gun, Daniel strode to the door. He found it locked.
Crash! “Aaaaggghhh!”
Stepping back, Daniel kicked the door, causing it to splinter (and the key to fall from its lock to the floor).
The pirates exchanged a bemused look.
“Oh dear,” Miss Fairweather said. “Jane is going to be so cross, and you don’t want to see—”
Ignoring her, Daniel pulled open the door, and raising his gun in both hands, he entered the corridor.
