Voices shouted from outside. Something . . . familiar. Clanging at the middle of the carriage, where the door would be. Light. Blinding and white. His gun was still clutched in his right hand, though he doubted he had the strength to lift it were it the enemy who came in instead of a friend. He couldn’t even lift his head. But it wasn’t pain so much as heaviness now. That was another something for which he should thank the Lord. When he could.

Or when he saw Him. One or the other.

A familiar English face appeared before him. A familiar English phrase slipped from its lips, one that summed up the situation rather well, but for which Drake would have gotten his ears boxed had he ever said it in either his mother’s or grandfather’s house.

A hand clapped onto his shoulder. “Hang on, old boy. We’ll get you out of here. Don’t give up on me now.”

He tried to speak. Only air wheezed out. But it didn’t matter. Thoroton was here. Drake had done his job. Now he could let his eyes slide closed.

9

Margot slid into the chair at her desk, ignoring the stares from the secretaries. From Culbreth and de Grey and Adcock. Ignoring the gaping emptiness of the desk by the door, ignoring the realization that soon it would have to be filled by some other secretary. Ignoring the ache that persisted in her throat and the general discomfort of her stomach.

“Margot. Sweetheart.” Lady Hambro perched on the edge of Margot’s desk and rested a hand on her shoulder.

She almost shrugged her off, but then she heard Maman in her ear. Don’t be rude, Margot. She’s trying to give you comfort. She forced herself to meet the woman’s eyes.

Lady Hambro had been there yesterday at the wake. They all had, every member of Room 40. Paying their respects. Clasping her hand, thumping Lukas on the back. Whispering words that meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The fingers around her shoulder squeezed. “You shouldn’t be here, dear. You’re ill. I know very well DID told you to take a week off.”

Margot blinked and let her gaze drift away from Ebba Hambro’s misty eyes and trembling lips. “I’m on the mend. And I have nowhere else to be, my lady.”

At home in 3E, Lukas was always there, trying to persuade her to come to his house. He said words like just for tonight and until you are better, but she well knew once he got her there it would be just for a week, just for a month, and then finally we might as well let the flat go.

She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t give up the flat.