“Wait for me!” Jane cried out behind them.

“Oh, lovely,” Cecilia muttered.

“I have the key to the garden door!” Jane said breathlessly as she reached them. “The Wisteria houses are still fully armed.”

“We’ll give the ladies air support,” Ned said, grinning.

“Fine,” Cecilia agreed. “But keep up. This will be even harder than robbing a bank, you know.”

“I would have robbed a bank,” Jane retorted, “but there are few of us who are secure enough to commit such a crime without a bad influence encouraging us. With my parents off selling fool’s gold in America, and my grandmother too busy conspiring against the Society, I’ve been forced to be sensible.”

“No pirate should have to be sensible,” Cecilia conceded reluctantly.

“Wait for me!” came another cry. They glanced back to see Frederick stumbling and gasping along behind.

“Wonderful,” Ned muttered. No one waited, but Frederick managed to keep up nevertheless, driven by terror. Behind him came Alex, blood dripping from his sword.

“Anyone else?” Ned asked dryly.

“Oh, I’m not coming with you,” Alex said as he ran. “I’m heading out for my own house. I just got a new thirteen-pounder field gun and I’m keen to try it.”

“Aim for the west wing,” Ned told him. “That’s where they keep their artillery store.”

“Will do. Break a leg, old chap.”

Alex veered off. The others reached the end of the corridor, rushed down a flight of stairs, made short work of two henchmen they encountered there, and turned into another long, murky corridor that dwindled into shadow. Ned led them past one door but stopped at the next.

“This one,” he said, tugging at its rusted knob handle. “Jane, bring that—”

He stopped, staring at the knob, which had just broken off in his hand.

“Key,” he said limply.

“Try to fit it back on,” Jane suggested.

“We’re going to die!” Frederick wailed.

“It’s completely broken,” Ned said, trying without success to reattach the handle.

Cecilia frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Kick the door down,” Jane suggested.

“I don’t want to die a virgin,” Frederick wailed.

“For God’s sake!” Ned rolled his eyes.

Cecilia stepped forward, nudging him aside. With her tiny knife she began levering the exposed locking mechanism.

“Gently!” Jane suggested.

“I feel faint,” Frederick wailed.

“Marry me,” Ned whispered to Cecilia.

“Over Freddy’s dead body,” she muttered in reply.

“This afternoon, then,” Ned said. “The poor chap is about to expire from hysterics.”

“That’s what happens when you live in a luxurious ancestral castle instead of a house that someone pushed off a cliff.”

“I’m going to kiss you for saying that. I’m going to kiss your mouth and your throat and your brea—”

“Language, Captain Lightbourne.” She looked up to frown at him; then her expression slid into a sly, half-sided smile. She pushed the door open. Ned grinned, his eyes bright with admiration.

“Quickly,” Jane urged, flapping her hands at them.

“Huzzah!” Frederick cheered.

Ned and Cecilia stepped aside to let them go through first. “What do you think?” Ned murmured. “Should we shut the door on them and run away, steal some offices, become lawyers?”