He swung the door open, held it wide with one huge paw, stepping across Phoebe, shielding her with his bulk. Phoebe ducked and angled the lantern beneath his brawny arm, then unshielded it.
The light beamed out, then was shuttered. Once, twice. Then came a pause, a count of seven, followed by one last flash of light, then Phoebe stepped back, reshielding the lantern. The giant pulled back, swinging the door almost closed—then they waited.
Seconds ticked by, then the quiet was broken by a distant shout, muffled within walls. Before the sound faded, pattering footsteps, faint, then growing louder, reached Deverell’s ears.
He saw the startled glance Phoebe shot the giant, then another muted bellow reached them, this time more definitely from within Chifley House.
The footsteps reached a frantic crescendo. The garden door was wrenched open; the giant stepped back as another female figure, hooded and wrapped in a cloak with a small traveling bag clutched to her chest, shot out into the alley.
It was instantly apparent that something was wrong. Babbling hysterically, the maid pointed frantically back at the house.
Phoebe and the giant looked.
From the house, a furious male voice rang out, then pounding footsteps rattled like gunfire in the night, racing closer.
Phobe swooped, putting her arm around the maid, urging her to flee.
The giant swore, hauled the door shut and turned, sweeping his arms, protectively herding Phoebe and the maid on.
The door at his back flew open.
A young man appeared, lips drawn back in a vicious snarl. He took in the figures before him in a blink; before the giant could turn, he raised his arm high. Deverell heard the blow rather than saw it—deduced the cosh the young man had used on the giant before he saw it dangling from the man’s hand.
The giant crumpled and went down.
Poised in the shadows, every muscle tensed to act, Deverell waited, willing Phoebe to travel the few yards more to take her past him, so neither she nor the maid would be between him and their attacker.
But Phoebe had heard the giant’s grunt; she glanced back and saw him hit the ground. With a stifled cry, she pushed the maid on. Completely disregarding the vicious gentleman clambering over the giant’s fallen bulk, she rushed back, her attention fixed solely on the giant.
Deverell bit back an oath and glided forward, still concealed by the dense shadows.
To his surprise, the gentleman didn’t spare Phoebe so much as a glance but, swearing like a trooper, started after the fleeing maid. He still carried the cosh in one hand and hefted a suspiciously thin walking stick in the other.
The maid glanced back, saw; with a smothered sob, she came stumbling along. Deverell stepped out of the deeper shadows into the middle of the lane—into her path. She shrieked as he materialized in front of her. His gaze beyond her, fixed on the gentleman—presumably the eldest Chifley scion—he caught the woman by her shoulders, in a few efficient moves divested her of her cloak, then pushed her on. “Go! There’s a carriage waiting at the end.”
He’d kept his voice low, but his tone wasn’t one any sane person questioned. Terrified, the maid gulped and fled.
As he’d expected, Chifley took him—a tall, large male shielding his fleeing quarry—for another lumbering guard. Spewing profanity, Chifley tossed aside the cosh and ripped the scabbard from his swordstick.
Brandishing the lethal blade, he came at Deverell.
Balanced on the balls of his feet, Deverell waited, still helpfully cloaked in shadows…until just the right moment to whip the cloak up, entangling the slim blade. Then he twisted and wrenched.
Chifley made a gurgling sound of surprise as the rapier was hauled from his grasp.
Deverell flung both blade and cloak aside, unbalancing Chifley. It was so easy after that. One powerful punch driven from the shoulder connected perfectly with Chifley’s outthrust jaw and the bastard’s eyes rolled up, then silently, like a limp rag, he sank to the ground.
A panicked sound from behind him had Deverell glancing back. Contrary to all wisdom, the maid had stopped, perhaps paralyzed by fear. Her back to the stone wall, one fist pressed to her mouth, she was battling to hold back hysterical sobs. She was quivering uncontrollably.
He held up a hand, palm out. “Stay there.”
Eyes huge, she managed a shaky nod.
/> Turning, he swiftly scanned the backs of the nearby houses. People had to have heard; they had no more than minutes if they were to get away unseen.
A few quick strides brought him to Phoebe and the giant. She’d managed to wrestle the huge man into a sitting position against the wall. Ignoring her and her utterly shocked gaze, he bent and spoke to the giant. “How bad is it?”
One hand to his head, the man glanced up at him, then winced. “Near to cracked m’skull.” He sucked in a breath, then added weakly, “Luckily, it’s thick.”