Edgar collapsed onto the cobblestones with a thud. His fair hair and the pistol that had fallen from his fingers shone bright in the moonlight. The rest of him was a mass of blue-black shadows. Mélanie lowered her smoking pistol. The sound of booted feet came from the other end of the alley. Mélanie turned her head to see Raoul pull himself up short, his cloak swirling round his shoulders. Charles lifted his head from the roof tiles. “Mel?” “It’s all right, Charles. Just get Colin down.” She started toward Edgar, but Raoul ran forward. “Go up and help your husband with Colin,” he said. “I’ll see to Captain Fraser.” The need to hold Colin in her arms drove her back into the house and up three flights of sagging stairs at a run. A door was open on the attic level. She ran in, stumbling against the rotted wood, and flung open the casement to see the welcome sight of her husband’s now-grimy boots. He was crouched on the edge of the next roof, holding Colin in his arms.
