The dog abruptly lurched at Alex’s face, licked his nose, then jumped down and padded to stand at the old man’s side. Alex’s grandfather whistled a brief snatch of a strange tune that Alex forgot as soon as he heard it. Silently, the other six dogs came from the walls, lining up in a loose arc behind the old man.

“Sit,” he said, and, as one, they did.

“How—” The woman said after an uncomprehending second. She stopped, staring at the dogs, then tried again. “How did . . . ?”

“Oh, me and dogs go way back,” the old man said. Bending to retrieve his jacket and coat, he squeaked his keyring again. In response, the seven animals simultaneously lay down, flattening happily out on their bellies.

“Just need to know the right name and the right tunes and the right tone of voice. I’ll teach it to you sometime, Alex. Now, listen,” he went on, smiling at the woman. “It strikes me we’ve all got off on the wrong foot here. Let’s try again, and stop wasting time.”

Setting down his glass, Alex’s grandfather hoisted the shotgun, spun it, broke it open, and emptied out the cartridges, dropping them into his pocket before tossing the weapon to her. She caught it one-handed, open mouthed.

Unloading the revolver, the old man let it fall, deftly trapped it with his foot, then sent it sliding across the floorboards, where it came to a rest just in front of the man, who had righted his wheelchair and pulled himself back into it, clutching his thigh.

“I think now’s the time for introductions,” Alex’s grandfather said. “This is Alex, and I’m his grandfather, and I’m deeply sorry about breaking your chair.” He raised his glass to the woman, smiling expectantly.

“Kingdom,” she said, after a moment. She gave an involuntary laugh. “Evelyn Kingdom.”

“Charmed. And you, sir?

“Philippe de Metz.”

“An honor.” The old man nodded and took another sip. “Now, are you sure you won’t join me in a drink while we sort this out? Alex, there’s ginger beer over here.”

A few minutes later, they sat like opposing camps on the two sofas. Kingdom and Metz regarded them warily across an uneasy silence, trying to work them out. All four held glasses, Alex’s grandfather having poured everyone a measure and given himself a healthy top-up, but only the old man was drinking.

“Your dog,” Alex said to Kingdom in an attempt to break the impasse. “Would it really have . . . ?” He traced a finger across his throat.

“Maia? No,” she said, after a moment. She gave a shrugging smile, like she’d been found out. “She’s a big softy. Growling’s usually enough to stop anyone in their tracks.”

Alex’s grandfather turned to Metz. “How bad’s your leg?”