“Kill him and you both are dead,” said Lash. His voice was easy and betrayed no sign of distress. “Haven’t you considered your situation that far?”

“You may not care, but ask the others if they want a dead chemist to go along with the winning bid!”

There was a long silence. Not quite a silence: both Matthew and Julian could hear urgent whisperings from below.

“We need to go now,” Matthew told Julian, before Lash could think clearly enough to send men out to find the coach or to take up firing positions in the park.

“Start walking,” Julian told the doctor.

“Please … let me at least get my cloak.”

“No.” Julian gave him a hard shove with the gun’s barrel to the head, and Firebaugh began walking toward the staircase.

As Firebaugh, Julian and Matthew came around the corner, two pistols were levelled at them by a pair of men standing on either side of the Owl. The front door was wide open, someone having unlatched it to let in the gate’s guard. Everyone had taken positions below the stairs, including Cardinal Black who stood toward the rear next to Montague. Matthew saw Elizabeth Mulloy at the very back, and when their eyes met she shook her head as an entreaty not to harm Lash. But not harming Lash was far from Matthew’s mind at the moment; getting the book and getting out of the house with their skins were the foremost problems.

“Back up, all of you,” Julian said. The man who’d been hit with the vase was at the bottom of the stairs next to the one who’d been shot, the former sitting up and rubbing his bloodied face, the latter stretched out moaning and clutching at his wound with both hands. Matthew saw on the steps a few risers down the pistol that had been dropped when the vase crashed home. “Keep moving,” Julian told the doctor. As they went down, Matthew picked up the fallen pistol and cocked it.

“Everyone be easy,” said Lash. He wore a bemused expression. “Surely you gentlemen don’t think you’re going to get very far, do you?”

“Shoot ’em now!” Merda urged the gunmen. “Go on, take ’em!”

“Keep your teeth in your head, shorty,” Julian said. “As Lash says, everyone be easy and just keep backing up.”

“You won’t get out of here alive,” Lioness promised, standing between Lash and Merda, with Krakowski just behind her. In her eyes burned the flames of impending violence.

“Then neither will the doctor. And we’ll be able to send at least one of you to the grave. You! Come here!”

Matthew had no idea who Julian was addressing. Then Julian said, “You! RakeHell Lizzie or whatever you’re calling yourself! Get over here!”

“Stay where you are, Elizabeth,” Lash directed, with perhaps in his voice the faintest of quavers.