It was becoming obvious – to me at least – that Eleanora was clinging to hope and reason by the tips of her fingers. We needed to get her out of there and to somewhere safe and warm as quickly as we could.

  ‘Good,’ I said with a cheeriness that sounded forced even to me. ‘Well, if everyone’s fit, shall we get back to civilization? There are a couple of farms close to the other end of the headland. We should be able to shelter there while we work out how to summon help.’

  ‘And you can tell us what my brother has been up to, Dr Goddard,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I presume this has all been his doing.’

  ‘Bound by the Official Secrets Act, I’m afraid, old girl,’ said Dr Goddard. ‘No can do.’

  Lady Hardcastle harrumphed. ‘I’ll not press you, then,’ she said. ‘But Harry can bally well tell me what’s been going on, Official Secrets Act be blowed.’

  Dr Goddard laughed. ‘Come on, then,’ he said. ‘Are you all right, Miss Wilson? Can I help you?’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said in a voice that belied her confident words. ‘Let’s just get out of here.’

  I double-checked that Gerber was unconscious and breathing freely, then handed his pistol to Dr Goddard.

  ‘I presume you know how to use one of these,’ I said.

  ‘Point the sticky-out bit at the bad fellow and pull on the curvy little lever underneath?’ he said.

  ‘That’s the essence of it,’ I said.

  With an easy familiarity that I had, in truth, fully expected, he checked the magazine, clicked on the safety catch and put the gun in his pocket.

  Eleanora was in her nightdress so I gave her my boots and raincoat.

  ‘Oh, but what about you?’ she said. ‘And what about Dr Goddard?’

  ‘I’ll take Gerber’s,’ I said.

  ‘And I’ll be absolutely fine,’ said Dr Goddard, indicating his suit. ‘A well-made dinner suit can cope with anything. This one’s seen better days, and it might need replacing by the time the night is done, but I’ll be protected well enough. And I’m sure Harry can stand me a new one.’

  The peacoat was absurdly large and I had to stuff the boots with some rags I tore from Gerber’s shirt, but they were better than nothing.

  I took the lantern from the table and passed it to Lady Hardcastle. Then we left the ruined officer’s quarters and stepped out into the storm.

  The wind was at our backs as we crossed the apron of open ground and headed for the shelter of the hill. The light had well and truly gone, now, but this time we had the lantern to guide us.

  Having been trussed up on a stone floor for almost three days, Dr Goddard was clearly weakened. He moved stiffly and stopped more than once to try to rub some life into his legs. Eleanora had only been held captive since the morning, but even she was finding it more difficult than she had expected.

  ‘Time was when I’d have given everything I owned, and pledged everything I would ever own just for the chance of five minutes of adventure,’ she said. ‘But if this is what it does to you, I’m not sure I’ll ever think that again.’

  ‘Adventure certainly has its drawbacks,’ I said. ‘But it has its pleasures, too. You’ll look back on all this with a lot more fondness and enthusiasm than you feel now, I promise.’

  ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?’

  ‘Of course not. I promise not to take offence at whatever you ask, as long as you don’t take offence if I choose not to answer once I’ve heard the question.’

  ‘You and Lady Hardcastle are . . . what do you call it? Pals? She talks about you as though you work together, like colleagues, but you call her Lady Hardcastle. And you’re her servant, she said – her lady’s maid.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘But you’re still buddies? How does that work? I thought you Britishers were all tied up by your “class”.’

  ‘The best of buddies. Do you really think we could have been through everything we described to you last night and let an accident of birth build a wall between us? It’s deeply ingrained, all the class rubbish, but there comes a time on a lonely track in the middle of China when the absurdity of it just sort of washes over you like a wave. It all seems to make sense when you’re right in the middle of it, but when you’re miles away from it all with only a mysterious monk for company, it begins to look a bit silly. Just think: if my father had been Sir Joseph Armstrong from Mayfair, or hers had been Perilous Percy Fanshaw, the famous tightrope walker, no one would have thought anything of us being pals. As it is, we play the game and mostly obey the rules. And that means that without thinking, I always call her “my lady” and refer to her as “Lady Hardcastle”. It saves other people’s embarrassment.’

  ‘But you’re still a servant.’

  ‘I still am. I enjoy it. It keeps me busy and I like looking after her.’

  ‘Wait. Did you say “tightrope walker”? Was your pop a tightrope walker?’

  ‘Knife-thrower, actually,’ I said.

  ‘You’re teasing me now,’ she said.

  ‘Honour bright,’ I said. ‘The Great Coltello, he was. He could cut the corner off a playing card from ten yards away.’

  ‘Did he teach you?’

  ‘Of course. I could take the other corner off. But I’d have to be eight yards away – I’m only little.’

  She laughed. ‘I’d like to see that.’

  ‘We’ll get them to put a board up in the salon when we get back to the hotel – I’ll show off for you then.’

  Lady Hardcastle had been leading the way with Dr Goddard. They slowed so that we could catch them up.

  ‘What are you two muttering about back there?’ she said.

  ‘You, mostly,’ I said.

  ‘All good, I hope.’

  ‘Why would you imagine that? I can’t lie to the poor girl.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said. ‘Heigh-ho. Another acquaintance’s illusions shattered by your wretched honesty. You and your chapel ways.’

  ‘Is there much further to go?’ asked Dr Goddard. ‘I’m pooped.’

  ‘Not far,’ I said. ‘And it’s more or less downhill for the rest of the way. But we can take a break if you need to. My lady?’

  ‘Certainly we can,’ she said. ‘No point in wearing ourselves out now the difficult bit is done.’

  We stopped beside a spindly tree. It offered little actual protection from the wind and rain, but we huddled closer to it nonetheless. I felt sure Lady Hardcastle would be able to explain it as some sort of primal instinct, and I was about to give her the opportunity to do just that when my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a gunshot. It was muffled by the sound of the storm, but it was unmistakeable, and the explosion of splinters from the tree trunk left no room for further doubt.

  ‘Everybody down,’ I said. ‘Now. And cover the lantern.’

  ‘Where away?’ said Lady Hardcastle. She was looking round for the source of the shot.

  ‘Upslope,’ I said. ‘A little behind us to judge from the damage to the tree.’

  Another shot. A spray of mud from where the bullet hit the ground.

  ‘Sounds like a rifle,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘We should have searched the place a bit better before we rabbited.’

  ‘We weren’t to know he was going to come round so quickly,’ I said.

  ‘I was slightly worried about the dose,’ she said. ‘When the idea came to me I was concerned that I might give him too much and kill him accidentally, but when I found the bottle, my worries went the other way. Still I’d have put good money on his being out for another hour at least. He might be mad as a sack of gibbons but he has the constitution of an ox.’

  A bang. Another spray of debris from the tree.

  ‘He’s not a frightfully good shot, is he?’ said Dr Goddard.

  ‘I imagine he’s still a little groggy,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘And he’s not allowing for the wind. Or, if he is, he’s not worked out how turbulent it can be at the bottom of a slope. Do you know—’

  ‘Really, my lady?’ I said. ‘Now? A lecture on fluid dynamics in the middle of a gunfight?’

  ‘There’s never a wrong time to learn new things,’ she said. ‘But you make a good point. I think he might be slightly unsighted, too. We’re in a bit of a dip here. Which means he must be—’

  Yet another bang.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘The flash came from over there.’ She pointed to a spot halfway up the hill, but much further along than I had guessed.

  ‘Do we stay or move?’ I said. ‘Could you hit him from here with that?’ I indicated the Japanese pistol which was now in her hand.

  ‘I could give him a nasty scare,’ she said. ‘But I’m even more hampered by the weather than he. I’d be shooting upwind.’

  ‘We could give you covering fire if you fancied trying to get round behind him,’ said Dr Goddard.

  ‘As long as you stopped shooting before I got there,’ I said. ‘But no. Now I come to think about it properly, anyone who stood up would present too good a target. He’s bound to make a lucky shot sooner or later if he has something definite to shoot at.’

  ‘I know what I’d do if I were him,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘What’s that?’ said Dr Goddard.

  ‘I’d pin us down with a few wild shots, and then when I was sure we’d hunkered down somewhere, I’d—’

  She was cut short by a maniacal scream and a rush of wild movement from about twenty yards up the slope.

  ‘Yes,’ said Lady Hardcastle, jumping to her feet. ‘I’d do exactly that.’ She loosed off a couple of shots as the rest of us stood and spread out. ‘Yours, I think, Flo, dear.’

  He was already upon us but, as we’d already learned, his skills were more strategic than tactical. Mix in the after effects of a dose of Veronal, and the anger and disappointment caused by having all his plans come to nought, and he was never going to make the best decisions in a fight. He had overrun it badly and was skidding out of control as he drew level with us and tried to stop.

  I set my own balance and braced to grab the rifle as he passed. He was holding it in both hands and as I took hold of it, I twisted my body to give him an extra impetus that sent him stumbling off the other side of the path and crashing into the undergrowth.

  I threw the rifle to Eleanor, who caught it easily. She checked it and levelled it at the spot where Gerber had disappeared.

  By the light of the now uncovered lantern, I saw a bedraggled figure emerge from the low bushes. Barefoot, and with his shirt in tatters where we had torn rags from it for my boots, he looked like a shipwrecked sailor. The rain was streaming down his face and his expression was not a jolly one. It wasn’t even a sane one. He looked wildly about, his eyes darting between us.

  There were three guns pointing at him now, with me the only one of us unarmed. I could see him briefly consider me as the easy target. It seemed he remembered how easily I had knocked him down twice already, though, and thought better of it.

  Then again, he wasn’t the tactical brains behind Günther Ehrlichmann.

  He charged me. Of course he did.

  With so little of him protected from the rain by intact clothing, it was slightly akin to trying to get a hold on a greased eel, but I did manage to take a firm grasp of his wrist. I twisted and pulled and he began to topple over once more. I usually try to bring a little subtlety and grace to these sort of encounters, but to be honest he was really starting to get on my nerves. I would usually rule it out as being just gratuitously nasty, but under the circumstances I truly felt he deserved it – I stamped on one of his bare feet with my borrowed boot. His howl of pain was cut short as I completed the throw and he landed face-first on a tuft of wiry grass.

  ‘He gets full marks for persistence,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I’ll give him that, at least.’

  ‘I say we just shoot him and let Harry sort it out,’ said Dr Goddard.

  ‘It would be less tiresome,’ agreed Lady Hardcastle. ‘But I meant what I said – I want at least one Gerber to face the consequences of their actions. I’d really be rather pleased if the Imperial German government were made to own up to Roddy’s murder, too. I’m not one to bear a grudge, but . . .’

  There was a groan from the floor and Gerber began to try to push himself up. He managed to get up, but he couldn’t work out how to stand without putting weight on his shattered foot. He just knelt there, growling. He must have caught his forehead on a rock as he fell because there was a trickle of blood running down his face now, mingling with the rain.

  ‘I’m really so very sorry,’ I said, ‘but I’m sick of this.’

  I struck him at one of the points Chen Ping Bo had described as having an entirely negative effect on a man’s ability to remain conscious. He collapsed once more.

  ‘What are we going to do with him?’ asked Eleanora.

  ‘I say leave the blighter where he is,’ said Dr Goddard. ‘Pick him up in the morning. He’s not going anywhere on that foot.’

  ‘He could die of exposure if we leave him out in this storm,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘Don’t look to me for sympathy,’ he said. ‘I was the one who suggested we shoot him.’

  I sighed. ‘Help me drag him to the shelter of this bush,’ I said. ‘We can cover him with my – with his – coat. That should protect him until Harry’s men get here.’

  We got him out of the rain as best we could, and wrapped him in the coat. Once again we checked that he was breathing all right, and set off to find a farm and a cup of tea.

  We followed the track all the way to where we had left the motor car. The rain still splashing on it made its dark green paint sparkle in the lantern light.

  ‘Is that your motor?’ asked Dr Goddard.

  ‘It is,’ said Lady Hardcastle proudly.

  He looked more closely. ‘Only two seats,’ he said. ‘How were you planning to get us all home?’

  ‘We were going to do it in shifts. We just need to get everyone settled first.’

  ‘Ah. Righto. I’ve never seen anything like it, though. Well, I have – I saw it parked outside the hotel. But I’d never seen anything like it until then. I had no idea it was yours. How did you come by such a machine? It looks like something in an illustration from a Jules Verne story.’

  ‘A friend of Harry’s – a friend of mine, now – designs them. He owns a racing team. Lord Riddlethorpe.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be blowed. Riddlethorpe Racing, eh? I’ve heard of them, of course. Seen his motor cars at Brooklands. He’s building them for the general public now, then?’

  ‘He’s planning to,’ she said. ‘This is by way of a prototype. We’re testing it for him.’

  ‘Are you? Are you indeed? I wouldn’t mind having a go myself when this is all over. What does she do?’

  Eleanora hadn’t said a word for the past ten minutes. Even in the dim lantern light I could see that her face was pale as she stared absently into the middle distance. I was concerned that the shock of the events of the past twenty-four hours had finally caught up with her. We had to get her somewhere warm and safe.

  ‘I’m so sorry to interrupt,’ I said. ‘But I can’t help feeling that we’re standing in the pouring rain, being battered by a howling gale, and we seem to be discussing motor cars. Might I respectfully suggest that we’d be better off seeking shelter in one of the nearby farm cottages and admiring Phyllis in the morning?’

  ‘Phyllis?’ said Dr Goddard.

  ‘The motor car is called Phyllis,’ I said.

  ‘Lord Riddlethorpe called his new racing car Phyllis?’

  ‘Lady Hardcastle called her new racing car Phyllis,’ I said. ‘I hate to be presumptuous, but I really do think we’d benefit from getting out of the storm as quickly as possible. Perhaps we could discuss the naming of new vehicles over a nice cup of tea.’

  ‘Quite right,’ he said. ‘Many apologies. Which way?’

  ‘There’s a farmhouse about five hundred yards down this track,’ I said, pointing in the direction we had originally been heading in the motor car. ‘And there’s another about half a mile down there, back towards the main road. I propose the nearer one because . . . well, because it’s nearer, obviously. But also because if anyone comes looking for us, they’ll see Phyllis and know we’re nearby. They’ll look at the closest farm first. Probably.’

  ‘Makes perfect sense to me,’ he said.

  ‘And to me,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Come along.’

  Eleanora gave up the rifle without comment when I held out my hands for it. Holding it in one hand, I put my other arm around her shoulders and helped her along the muddied track. She didn’t react, and her plodding gait reinforced the impression I had gained from her pallor and empty expression – this was a girl on the verge of collapse.

  It was almost eleven o’clock and the farmhouse was in total darkness – they’re early-to-bed-early-to-rise types out in the country.

  Lady Hardcastle hammered on the door with the side of her fist.

  ‘Hello!’ she shouted. I’d forgotten what an extremely loud voice she had.

  She hammered again.

  An upstairs window to our right opened and a man’s head emerged.

  ‘Do you know what bloody time it is?’ he said.

  With an exaggerated fussiness she raised her left wrist and pulled back her sleeve. She looked at her watch.

  ‘It’s just coming up to five minutes to eleven,’ she said.

  ‘It’s good you’s got a watch,’ he said. ‘Means you’ll know when it’s mornin’. You can come back then.’

  ‘We’re caught in the storm,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘We have a motor car but it won’t carry all of us. We need somewhere to shelter until we can get help.’

  From inside the room, a woman’s voice said, ‘What is it, Ronnie? What are you doin’?’

  The man turned round. ‘Got four people out here wantin’ to come in out of the rain.’

  ‘In this weather? What are you standin’ there arguin’ for? Go down and let ’em in. I’ll get the kettle on.’

  The window closed.

  Moments later, the door was unbolted and opened by a short, round man in a patched nightshirt. His face and hair were wet from the few moments he had spent hanging out of the window. He was clutching a candle in an enamel holder and it was immediately extinguished by the wind.