Page 73 of Project Duke

He wouldn’t do this for no reason. Nathaniel had trained him well. Argos kept letting out worried barks, still leaning on the gate, the hardware rattling from his weight. Whatever had him on edge was behind this gate to the mews.

Violet peered through a thin crack. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary at first. The street beyond was empty.

And then she saw them. Three men walked down the street towards Roxburgh looking like that burglar who had attacked Calliope in the alley next to Bond Street.

One of them was taller than the other two. All three had coats and trousers that had seen some wear. They walked about ten feet away, one of them staring at the gate where he, no doubt, heard Argos and Orion tearing their throats out as they barked. Even Cerberus, the little beagle, left his comfy place with Miss Furrington and joined his two friends, adding his howls to their barks.

“Three men, Poppy,” she muttered, and Poppy glued herself to the gate, peering through a crack, as well.

Mrs. Nicholson was sick in her bed with a fever and a sore throat. And Joshua was visiting his family.

Nathaniel, Calliope, and Hazel were at the Duchess of Loxchester’s soirée. Did these men think Violet and Poppy were out, as well? Or did they know they were home alone…?

One of the men boldly approached the brick wall surrounding the mews.

She saw the largest man take a crowbar from behind a bench he had stopped next to, and the other one had a pistol. Clearly, they were not afraid of the dogs. Violet’s blood chilled. The men walked down the fence, watching it in estimation, talking quietly. Were they discussing how to climb over? The dogs were livid by this point—any petty criminal would be running away.

Violet and Poppy exchanged a long, terrified gaze.

“Why do they want to break in?” asked Violet. “We have nothing of value.”

“What are we going to do?” Poppy cried. “They’re not going to hurt the dogs, surely.”

Not just the dogs, Violet thought but didn’t say it out loud. Violet had never seen her brave and adventurous sister this pale. It was usually Poppy who’d suggest doing mischief and breaking rules.

Violet thought quickly. They could run. They could hire a hackney and go to Sumhall or to find Nathaniel and Calliope at the soirée. Or they could seek the help of Bow Street Runners…who probably wouldn’t believe them, anyway. But the men might catch them as they ran for the street.

“We’re going to trick them!” said Violet, a plan forming in her head.

She’d read many of Calliope’s inquiry books, about adventures and thugs and investigators chasing them… Sometimes they didn’t need any weapons, just a sleight of hand, something clever, to trick the attackers.

“I have an idea,” Violet whispered, her eyes darting around. “Get the dogs and the cat inside! The thugs will kill the dogs if they see them out in the open. And don’t come out. I’ll take care of the stairs.”

Poppy, swallowing hard, nodded, determination lighting up her features. She scooped up the cat, who stared at the brick wall with large, round eyes, her tail jerking nervously.

“Come!” Poppy called to the dogs, and they reluctantly stopped barking and followed her inside.

Violet ran towards an old whale oil barrel that had just a little bit left at the bottom, but it would be enough. She scooped up a cup of the stinking liquid. Running back towards the servants’ entrance, she could hear the thugs grunting as they tried to jump over the tall fence.

She flew up the stairs. Leaning against the wall was the broken railing from Calliope’s near fall. Nathaniel still hadn’t found the time to repair it, and they’d all just gotten used to avoiding it as they had with so many things in the crumbling house. She put down the mug of oil, picked up the railing, and set it back into the holes in the stairs as best she could. Then she poured oil over the stairs and the little landing before running back inside and through the servants’ corridor.

Poppy and the dogs waited for her at the entrance to the servants’ corridor, the dogs held by their leashes but growling, their faces positively terrifying. The cat perched on the stairs leading to the bedroom floor and watched everything with wild eyes.

“Good. Hide the dogs behind the corner over here,” Violet said to Poppy. It felt strange to be telling her adventurous sister what to do, but someone had to take charge. “I have something else in mind. Whatever you do, keep the dogs quiet.”

Poppy nodded, giving the dogs the command to be quiet, then led them around the corner, out of sight of the servants’ door.

Violet ran into the library to remove the board covering the rotten floorboards and saw from the window how the thugs climbed over the fence and raced through the mews towards the servants’ stairs. The first one managed to climb three stairs before he slipped and grabbed on to the railing. The railing came off in his hand just as intended. He flailed as he started to pitch backward, then overcompensated and threw himself forward, landing face-first on the stairs and sliding back down, taking both of his companions with him.

Giggling, excited from her first success, Violet ran on tiptoe around the now-exposed rotten boards and joined Poppy. Her sister crouched behind the dogs with big eyes, breathing hard. Violet could hear the uneven, heavy footsteps of limping men as they tried to make their way more carefully up the slippery stairs. The fall must have hurt them.

“Do you remember the rotten boards in the library’s entrance?” asked Violet. “I removed the board covering them. Try to lure one of them there. Maybe he’ll fall through—and right into the basement.”

“Very well. Be ready to attack…” Poppy whispered to the dogs.

The door from the servants’ quarters into the master’s hallway flew open and one after another, the men came in.

“Attack!” Poppy cried the command Nathaniel had been teaching them for years.