He went over to the cabinet and opened the glass door (a faint, hollow shudder). He unhooked the plaited leather cord and took the shrunken head out. He cradled it in his palm, surprised at the dense weight. The hair, when he touched it, was coarse and dry and not like hair at all. Rolt carefully put his finger to the blackened skin of its sunken cheeks too, its forehead, the shrivelled, grotesque lips and swollen eyes. The head seemed to be merely asleep, just like Lord Oldham.

Rolt took a white silk handkerchief from his pocket and shook out the folds. He wrapped the shrunken head there and then slipped it into his pocket. He carefully closed the cabinet door.

The maid helped him with his coat.

‘Goodnight, sir,’ she said and opened the front door.

Rolt smiled and nodded. ‘Lord Oldham may need a blanket,’ he said and stepped outside. The cold air was a shock. As he began to walk, his heart was beating fast.

SWIFTWING

James Noble was well and truly done with King and Country.

At twenty-two, he was still no bigger than he’d been at thirteen. He had glossy black hair and coal eyes too, and a good nose until the regiment champ broke it in a betting bout (he was still a touch wobbly at times, weeks later).

All James Noble needed was somebody to help him with the boat.

Harris wouldn’t do it—he was desperate for family and home (up north on the Kentish coast)—and, besides, it made more sense to take the Prussian, who’d surely be wanting to head that way, across the Channel.

They fixed it all for the same night. Easy enough, with Harris in the guardhouse and the keys on a hook.

Nobody spoke. They took the keys and let Johannes Meyer out of his cell. They opened the front door and ran for the trees. Simple as that.

‘Ten pounds says you’ll see Old Bailey before me,’ James Noble said when they’d made it to cover.

‘Sure.’ Harris smiled. ‘But how would you ever know?’

A moment later, he was gone.

Noble turned to Johannes. There was a wrenching feeling in his guts. He hadn’t expected it. ‘We go this way,’ he said.

There was a fine drizzle falling and the ground was soft and the grass slapped wetly against their boots as they ran, crouching, though the darkness. They were headed down to a cove about a mile along the coast. When they got there, Noble revealed a small round boat, hidden underneath branches. He saw the dubious look on Johannes Meyer’s face.

‘It’s just a paddle to the real boat, son. Don’t panic. It’ll get us there.’