choose to go. Old Binion here is what’s called a trotter, ma’am, bred up to it – tolerably fast and at your service.”
He handed across an envelope. Mystified, Alice tore it open and read it, and then read it again. She looked up at the wisteria alley and then glanced across the lawn to where Finn’s cottage stood empty in the sunshine, her mind revolving.
“Will you give me ten minutes?” she asked. “And then we must hurry.”
“Ten minutes, ma’am, and we’re off.”
Alice came out through the door in nine, followed by Mrs. Langley, who held Cleo in her arms. She and Cleo would be fine, Mrs. Langley told her, along with sundry other bits and pieces of advice as Alice had thrown things into her bag, including clothing for Eddie. From her seat beside Simonides Alice promised to send word from Cliffe, promised any of a number of things to Mrs. Langley and Cleo both.
As the cart clattered away, she looked back at the two of them still standing on the veranda, in her mind seeing herself standing there the day before yesterday, filled with unhappiness, watching Langdon racing away from her. She was no longer standing and waiting, however, which had been her fervent wish, but she had no idea exactly what she
THIRTY TWO
Finn ran, his mind laboring to see a clear way before him. The front yard was blessedly empty – his good fortune, may it last. The walnut tree stood before him, and he was into the lower branches and climbing before he gave it another thought. No one cried out. The morning was still. He went straight to Eddie’s window and looked in through the rippled, dirty glass. Eddie was asleep on the bed – no surprise in that. Finn knocked hard on the casement, but the boy didn’t move. He knocked again. Still nothing. He yanked the sleeve of his velvet jacket up over his clenched fist and hit a windowpane fast and hard, the glass shattering. Eddie sat up, and Finn saw that the boy knew him instantly – no balaclava now. And there had been the wink and nod through the rear window of the coach. Eddie looked around wide-eyed and sprang out of bed, immediately putting on his slippers and vest, ready to bolt.
Finn slipped the latch on the window and pushed it open, and then slid over the sill and dropped to the floor. “They’ll be after us,” he said to Eddie. “Can you climb the tree?”
The boy shook his head, his face betraying his unhappiness with the idea.
“Look here,” Finn said to Eddie, crouching down so that he was something like the same height. “You and I are going to find our way out. I’m hellfire smart, but you’re smarter than me by far. The two of us can do it together. The Professor – your father – is close by, down along the bay. If we can win free, you and I can find him easy as kiss-my-hand. He’ll take the both of us home in his airship. Do you hear what I’m telling you?”
Eddie nodded.
“Then be ready to run. If they catch me, don’t wait. You keep running. When you’re outdoors, take to the trees and hide.” He gripped Eddie’s hand, said, “Now,” and swung the door open, starting forward even as he saw that someone blocked the way – George, alone, his finger to his lips, his head shaking.
“As you value your life, do as I tell you,” George said, his voice low. Finn nodded, and George said to him, “Follow me, then. You’re leaving Shade House for good and all, and quickly. If we meet someone, you’re my prisoner, do you see? Play your part, boy.”
They descended the stairs at the end of the hall, sounds of loud talk and laughter below. Finn was happy to play his part, whatever it meant. He had been right about George, he thought, and he and Eddie were in luck that it was George sent to fetch them. There was no earthly reason for him to be playing them false. At the second floor he led them hurriedly down the hall, the noise from below diminishing. He swung open a door, closing it behind them, Finn still gripping Eddie’s hand as they followed him readily across a broad room where there stood several tables and empty kegs. An open fireplace lay along one wall, big enough to walk a horse into. They passed into another room, this one with an oven, a coal scuttle alongside, an open arch behind, which led to a stairway where a dirty window of bullseye glass looked down at the millwheel.
They followed the stairs downward, Finn hearing what sounded like the rattling of a doorknob from somewhere above. George glanced back, evidently having heard it himself. At the base of the stairs stood two more doors, one of which George opened, hauling them through before barring it with a long timber, desperately quiet and cautious about it. He put his finger to his lips again, and tiptoed deeper into the room, where the three of them stood still, Eddie glancing at Finn, who winked at him and nodded.
After a moment of silence, someone tried the door, turning the knob, the door opening a quarter inch before jamming against the timber. The door shook heartily now. There was another silence – someone listening, perhaps – and then the receding footsteps of the person ascending the stairs. George let out a breath and nodded, and Finn felt a sense of relief for the first time that morning. Apparently they were in some sort of storeroom, given the sacks and crates haphazardly stacked on the flagstone floor. It came to him that they must be very near the kitchen, and indeed there was another low door. Perhaps McFee himself was in the room beyond.
“You’re meant for the stage, boy,” George said in a quiet voice, “with that tale of your poor brother dying of the bloody jack and you making cheeses. You’ll do well in the world, if you don’t find yourself murdered first. It was you in Spitalfields, wearing the balaclava, wasn’t it, coming after the boy alone? I recalled the green of your coat when I saw it in the daylight.”
“Yes, sir,” Finn said. “That was me.”
“You’re main anxious to save the boy. Why? Perhaps he’s kin?” He looked from one to the other of them.
“No, sir, nothing like that. I could have stopped him being taken by the Doctor in the first place, but I didn’t do it. I’m trying to put it right.”
George nodded. “I thought maybe you had scruples.”
“What of you, sir?” Finn asked boldly. “You’re in a right mess now.”
“Not if they don’t know it’s me that’s helped you. I’ll think of something.”
He glanced back at the door, and it seemed to Finn that the contrary was true. It had been George that Narbondo sent to fetch them. They would know it was George who helped them escape.
“You listen to what I tell you,” George said. “There’s tunnels beneath this inn. I’ll show you to them, but you’ll have to find your way through. This here’s a bag with candles and matches. I keep it at the ready.” He held out a leathern bag, and Finn took it. “If there’s water running along the floor of the tunnel, follow it. You’ll be descending, north toward the river. There’ll come a time when there’s a passage that leads up again, a dry passage. If you follow to the left, always to the left, mind, you’ll come out near the bay. Take to the wood or whatever cover you can find, and make your way topside to the river. Do you ken what I’m telling you?”
“Yes,” Finn said. “Water flows downward while we’re getting clear, not when we’re getting out, which is always to the left.”
“That’s it. If you take the wrong turning, then you might come out anywhere, so you follow a handy trail till you find yourself somewhere and know where you are. Do you have money?”
“In my shoe,” Finn said.
“Good lad. Now, if it goes bad, and they catch you, you haven’t seen old George and you don’t know me. It was you who took the food and the candles out of the kitchen when McFee wasn’t watching. Do you hear? It was you who barred the door, you who found your way to the tunnel. If they knew I was soft, they’d do for me. There’ll be a hue and cry, and I’ll be coming for you along with the rest. I doubt I can save you then without copping it.”
“Yes, sir, and thank you, sir. We’re grateful.”
“Don’t be grateful yet. You aren’t clear of this place. Come.”
