“Knocked the gun out of his hand when he ran out of ammo. He legged it. I came back to get you.”

“Why the hell didn’t you follow him?”

“I thought you were shot, you bastard. I thought you were dead.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Kim put a cautious hand to his temple. “I caught my foot on something, and knocked myself silly when I hit the ground. Did I say earlier I was fond of these gardens? I take it back.”

“Same. Sod this place.” Will put out a hand. Kim gripped it. He was definitely alive, and his sleeve was torn in a familiar way. “You’re hit.”

“I’m not.” Kim squinted at his own upper arm and inserted a finger into the hole. “Good God. It went through the cloth. That was close.”

An inch to the left and he’d be bleeding. Six inches to the left and he’d be dead. Will seriously regretted his decision to give up the chase: he wanted five minutes with the enemy and the Messer, or a rock, or just his fists. He’d make do.

Kim touched his arm. “I’m fine, Will. Stop looking like that. Are you hurt?”

“No, because you drew his fire when he had me pinned.”

“With an acrobatic leap face-first into the soil. Truly the war lost something by my absence.”

Will was pretty sure it had. “Can you stand?”

“Are we sure he’s gone?”

“He’s welcome to come back, if he wants his spine pulled out through his arse.”

“I’ll hold your coat. Did you get a look at him?”

Will shook his head. “Not a good one. The sun was behind him, and then I was concentrating on his hands. Big man. Bulky. Thick as mince, because he could have had us both with a bit of tactical thinking.”

“Big, broad, and stupid,” Kim said. “How strangely familiar that sounds. Let’s go back to the house, shall we?”

They headed back, Will picking up the empty gun as they went. Kim leaned on Will’s arm for a bit as they set off, until his head cleared. That could have been nice in other circumstances, but the mood had been pretty comprehensively ruined. They went back a different route through the gardens, Will keeping a very sharp eye out for strangers, and made it back to the house without further assault.

Hastings the butler emerged as they came into the entrance hall. He looked wide-eyed at them both. “Ah, Lord Arthur, I— Are you all right?”

“No,” Kim said. “I am not. I take it Lord Chingford has returned?”

“Yes, Lord Arthur, he—”

“Where is he?”

The butler’s eyes flicked between them. “In the morning room with his lordship, but—”

“Excellent,” Kim said. “If you hear screaming, my advice would be to do something else in a distant part of the house, out of earshot.”