There was a shriek and a clatter and then the sound of hurrying feet. Polly flung the covers off, padded over to the doors, and peeked out in time to see two nurses and an attendant disappearing through the doors to the other ward.

Polly padded quickly along the corridor to the stairs. There was another shriek, and a woman’s voice shouted, “Catch him!”

Polly ducked into the stairwell and up the steps, braced for the sound of the ward doors opening, of running feet.

More shrieks. “You wretched little—” the woman’s voice said, and then cut off.

Oh, Lord, I hope they haven’t killed anyone, Polly thought, reaching the landing and starting up the next set of stairs, wincing at the sounds drifting up from below—a horrible thumping, followed by feet pounding down some other flight of stairs and a sound of something (or someone) falling—trying not to think of the effects of the chaos she had just set in motion.

“I think they went that way!” someone shouted. More shrieks.

Polly reached the top of the stairs. The floor was deserted. A flurry of papers lay on the linoleum in front of the matron’s desk, and halfway down the corridor a cane-backed wheelchair lay on its side, fortunately with no one in it.

Polly ran down to Sir Godfrey’s room. His door was shut. Oh, God, she thought, don’t let him be dead. She took a deep, ragged breath and opened the door.

Sir Godfrey was lying propped up against pillows, a gray pajama top open over his bandaged chest. His eyes were closed, and his face and hands were nearly as white as the bandages. A tube ran from his arm to a bottle of dark red blood hanging next to the bed. Polly went over to the bed and looked down at him, watching his almost undiscernible breathing.

“ ‘Time hath not yet dried this red blood of mine,’ ” he murmured, and opened his eyes.

“You’re all right,” Polly said thankfully.

“Yes, though imprisoned here and set about with foul fiends who refuse to let me up. How did you succeed in escaping their iron grip?”

“I had assistance,” Polly said, shutting the door. “Sir Godfrey, last night you told me—”

“Oh, dear, I do hope I didn’t say anything I shouldn’t have. I didn’t confess undying love to some girl fifty years my junior, did I? Or quote Peter Pan?”

“No, of course not. You said last night that I’d saved your life—”

“And so you have, as you can see.” He spread his arms wide. “I am made new, brought back to life again, like Claudio’s Hero. ‘I do live, and surely as I live—’ ”

“No, I don’t mean what happened last night. I mean before. When we were there in the theater, I told you I was sorry I couldn’t save your life, and you said I already had.”

“And so you had, thrice over. You saved me from having to act the part of Captain Hook—”