But rather than gratitude at his rescue, she tried to kill him. His shins, ribs, and the side of his head received a mauling as she fought him.

“Stop. You’re safe now. Come with me. We have to get out of here.”

She clouted him again.

“Juliette, stop. It’s me.” He grabbed her wrists, stemming the struggle and twisting her arms behind her, bringing her up tight against his chest to protect both of them. Their breaths mingled as her eyes, foggy from her head’s impact with the wall, began to clear.

She blinked, and he relaxed a fraction.

A popping sound came from outside, followed by another and another. Gunshots.

“It’s the police!” The shout ricocheted through the room, drowning out the running feet. Some froze in panic. Others took flight, and the trampling, shoving, and shouting increased.

Though it seemed like years, from the beginning of the riot to the arrival of the first constable must have been less than a minute.

There was no time to tarry. Lady Juliette could not be apprehended at an anarchist’s rally, dressed in a disguise. And it wouldn’t do Daniel any favors either, though he could probably talk his way out of trouble by claiming he was investigating a rumor of a gathering.

With the entryway clogged with fleeing workers, Daniel sought another avenue of escape.

“This way.” Juliette pulled from his embrace, only to stagger and put her hand to her head, wincing.

“Let me help you.” He put his arm around her waist once more. “Lean on me. Do you know another way out?” With the torches being doused, the room was quickly falling into darkness, welcome in hiding identities but a hindrance to finding one’s way out.

“Along this wall. There’s a door. I need to get to Uncle Bertie.”

“There’s no time to find him. We must get you out of here.”

He switched her to his right side and felt along the wall with his left hand until the bricks turned to damp wood. Unable to find a handle or knob, he set Juliette away from him and rammed his shoulder into the center of the panel.

Pain shot through his side, but the door gave way, forcing him to stagger to keep his feet. Regaining his balance, he gathered her close again and edged his way through the door. It was black as pitch, but he could feel a brick wall to his left.

A few paces in and he banged his toe on a step. Searching with his foot, he encountered another step, and another. “Come. We have to climb to the street above.” He caught a glimpse of light ahead of him. Moonlight, perhaps? There must be an opening up there somewhere.