‘I do indeed, loved one!’ Alexander boomed, overhearing. He was taking deep breaths, being immensely brave, They’d come to a locked room, for which he produced a vast and assorted bunch of keys to enter.

The room was a musty, wallpapered storage area, containing everything that the museum didn’t see fit to display. Benny wouldn’t have minded an afternoon in cataloguing the stuff; there were certainly a few pieces of old metal that might have been worth the trouble, but Alexander went straight to a packing case, and pulled out two revolvers and several boxes of ammunition. ‘Belonged to an uncle who was at Spion Kop.’ He glanced at Constance. ‘I would have told your comrades of them, but I didn’t want knocks on my door at all hours from maidens wishing to be armed.’ He handed her one of the pistols, ‘I couldn’t face handling one; perhaps you can.’

‘We have never used firearms,’ Constance told him, slipping the gun into the pocket of her bloomers. ‘But I shall not hesitate to do so in defence of my life. I should have you know though, Bernice, that we may commit arson and explosion, but have not murdered anyone. We are sincerely moral campaigners.’

‘Fine. One day, I’ll learn to talk like that, too,’ Benny opined, checking the sights on one of the pistols. She spun it, loaded it and dropped it into a pocket. ‘Busy day. Now, shall we⁠ —’

An explosion came from upstairs. Dust detached itself from the roof in a solid layer, then fell.

‘Oh my God!’ Alexander yelled. ‘Quickly, the back door!’

They ran through the museum and Alexander swiftly unlocked the door.

Benny put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Calm down. Don’t run.’ She stepped to a window, and took a quick glance around the frame. The backstreet was empty.

‘Now I really wish Ace was here. I should think they’re firing some sort of heavy weapon from the field opposite. If we pop down the street and along the hedge, we might be able to get up to the forest without being seen.’

A trail of dark smoke was already drifting from the upstairs rooms. ‘How do you think they found you?’ asked Alexander, the door handle gripped in his hand.

‘Probably a tracer of some kind. Beyond your ken, Alex.’

‘Excuse me,’ asked Constance. ‘Do I take it that we are being fired upon?’

‘Yes.’ Benny grinned at her over her shoulder. ‘Sorry. Happens to me every other week.’

‘What an exciting life you must lead.’

‘I have considered learning to type. All right, Alex, let me go first. Constance, when I say go, run as fast as your bloomers will carry you.’

Alexander opened the door and Benny hopped through it, glancing quickly left and right, the pistol up to her cheek. The little cobbled backstreet ended in a rough track that ran along the edge of a field. Big hedge, luckily. Behind it, she could see the glint of metal.