To Liza’s horror, the two of them crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs and bedlinen, the gun going off in the struggle, barely muffled by the layers of cloth over it. Forcing herself not to dwell on the thought that Hanna might have been hit, Liza grabbed the nearest thing that looked like a weapon: a large glass vase full of spring flowers.

On the floor, Hanna was just about managing to keep the professor entangled, but Liza had lost sight of the pistol, and she suspected that if there was anybody who knew how to fire a weapon into somebody without looking at them, it was Professor Worth. So Liza hit him. She wasn’t, she had to admit, particularly strong, but the vase was heavy, and gravity was doing a lot of the work. It landed with a thunk on a protruding lump that Liza really hoped was the professor’s head.

Whatever she’d hit, he sagged, and for a moment he was still. Hanna sat back, torn between the conflicting desires to keep him pinned down and to keep him as far away as humanly possible. “Fuck,” she said, looking at the limp body underneath her, “you’ve killed him.”

“He was going to kill you.”

“I don’t think that stops it being murder.”

Liza looked for signs of blood on the blanket. “I think it actually does.”

Underneath Hanna, the professor shifted. “Okay, new problem. Hit him again.”

“No, then I really might kill him.” Instead, Liza scoured the mess of blankets, dead flowers, and water for signs of the gun and, spotting it by one of Hanna’s feet, scooped it up. “Right, got him covered.”

“You don’t know how to shoot.”

“No, but he does, so I’d rather I was the one with the weapon. Now perhaps we should tie him up.”

“With what?”

Liza slipped the belt out of her dressing gown and handed it to Hanna.

“Okay.” Hanna looked down at it somewhat doubtfully. “But this is getting to be some kinky shit.”

Standing back and holding the gun with both hands, Liza addressed the professor. “Right, you’ve probably worked out that there’s a pistol pointed at you, so you’re going to sit up carefully, you’re going to leave the blanket on your head, and you’re going to let Hanna tie it in place. Understand?”

“And if I struggle?” The professor was sitting up slowly, but Hanna already had the belt over his shoulders.

“I shoot you.”

“And if you miss and hit your wife?” Liza was relieved to note that he sounded a little groggy, but still infuriatingly confident.

That, Liza had to admit, wasn’t something she’d considered. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”