“Interesting you should say that, since he made a living off those who had—as you put it—gone ’round the bend. I should hope he recovers enough not to wet himself, or otherwise.”

“Ho there!” a man called. “You in the coach! Is someone hurt?”

People would be gathering in the aftermath of Firebaugh’s scream. Matthew peered out the porthole on the right side and saw four men standing on the other side of the street. If they had seen Julian robbing the goods store, they had not yet taken action … but then again, unless one of them owned the shop it was unlikely they would.

“Anyone hurt in there?” the man called again.

Then Julian’s voice replied, “Hold where you are, gentlemen.” It was spoken with a measure of threat.

“No trouble, sir! We want no trouble!”

“Be mindful of that.” The doors opened and Julian, who had made sure the gathering Samaritans had seen the weapon of a Philistine, threw into the coach two horse blankets, a quilted red-and-yellow plaid banyan robe and a blue woolen cap. He himself had found a pair of deerskin gloves and a brown woolen cap to wear on his bald head under his tricorn. “I’ll take that coat, madam,” he told Elizabeth. “You can warm yourself under a blanket.” He glanced at Matthew’s disapproving expression. “They only had children’s coats in there. Must’ve sold out the others before this snow. Your coat, please.” He gave the men across the street another view of the four-barrelled widow-maker. “A wagon’s coming,” he said, taking the polar bear coat that Elizabeth offered. “It’s time to go.” He closed the doors once again and in another moment he was heard to flick the reins and call out, “Giddap!” He had to do this twice more to get the team moving, for evidently they were used to the regular driver’s voice and hand on the reins.

The coach, frosty at its joints, creaked forward. Elizabeth pulled one of the blankets up to her neck. Matthew put on the blue cap and got under the second blanket. When Firebaugh recovered, he could put the banyan on over his nightshirt and his bare legs would have to do without winter stockings.

Matthew set the book beside him and placed the pistol on top of it. It seemed that the Spitalfields Murderess and his Broodie sister was in no hurry to leave the company. He took a biscuit and a slice of ham from the basket and chewed on them. By this time Julian had urged the team to a canter again, and they were obviously strong horses but they weren’t going to last too many hours in these conditions. At any rate, Lash’s second coach would be facing the same difficulties though that team likely had a driver with more skill than Julian.