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Ian pulled on his ankle boots and ran fingers through his ht the china doorknob and turned it

The door didn’t budge

He rattled the knob and pushed at the door, but nothing happened Heart thu, Ian crouched and put his eye to the keyhole

No key on the other side Someone had locked the door and taken the key aith them

Blind panic flooded him Locked in, no escape, trapped, open it, please, please, please, I’ll be good

He took deep breaths, trying to banish the freezing terror He thought of war into her depths, feeling her squeeze Beth

He crouched down and put his mouth to the keyhole

"Beth?"

Silence He heard noises from the street but none from the house He yanked the bell-pull beside the bed, then went back to the door

"Curry," he shouted He pounded on the heavy wood

"Curry, da back the drapes Mist swirled around the street la enhancing the sound of hooves and ru wheels

He heard footsteps in the hall and then Curry’s voice at the keyhole "M’lord? Are you in there?"

"Of course I’m in here She’s locked the door Find a key"

Curry’s voice took on a note of alarht?"

"Find the blasted key"

"You’re all right then" Footsteps moved away

New fears rushed at Ian, none that had to do with being confined in a sone somewhere, and she hadn’t wanted him to stop her Daone to Fellows, or to interview the o, or worse, to the High Holborn house itself to talk to Mrs Palmer Son of a bitch "Curry!" He pounded on the door

"Keep your shirt on We’re hunting for a key"

It took too long Ian chafed, his terowled At last Ian heard a key in the lock, heard it turn He yanked open the door