A green curtain at one of the cottage’s two front windows moved aside, a face peered out, and the door was opened before Julian could reach it. “Come in, come in, and willkommen bei dir!” said the short, rotund woman who stood smiling on the threshold. Matthew thought her language sounded like it must be Prussian, of all things. Well, he wouldn’t begrudge her being Prussian and miss the warmth of a hearth and a hot meal, so long live Prussia. He tramped on in across the stone floor with the others and in the cheerful yellow lamplight the fireplace with its bounty of burning logs was a thing of true beauty, and beautiful too was the fact that the cottage was warm enough so one wouldn’t need to climb into the flames to thaw out.

The fireplace drew an immediate crowd, including Firebaugh who shivered and shook as the warmth chased the chill from his bones.

Greta Autrey closed the door against the wind and had a look at her guests. “Oh mein Sterne!” she gasped, as she saw the doctor’s injuries. “What happened to you, mein herr?”

“An accident,” said Julian. “He’ll recover.”

“Such an accident I never saw before! I have some balm that could ease you, but I’m thinking you need to see a doctor! And in your nightclothes you’re travelling?” Matthew saw the expression on the woman’s seamed and ruddy-cheeked face change in an instant from concern to suspicion. “Was ist das? No one travels in this weather in such clothing!” She backed toward the far wall where a musket sat on a shelf within reach.

“Ma’am,” Matthew said before anything could get out of hand, “this man is our prisoner and we’re taking him to a special prison in Wales.”

Firebaugh gave a half-laugh, half-choke.

“My name is Matthew. My associate Julian and I are constables.”

Now it was Julian who nearly choked.

“We had to take him from a place where he had no chance to change into warmer clothes. Unfortunately he was a bit roughed up in the doing. We intended to find something for him on the way. Perhaps you have something? At least a pair of winter stockings you might sell us?”

“This man is a damnable liar,” Firebaugh suddenly spoke up. “I’m a respected London doctor and these two criminals have kidapped me! Look what they did to my face and my ear! Would constables of the law commit such violence on a person?” He motioned toward the musket. “If that’s loaded and primed, I’d thank you very much if you would—”