Fifty-SixSeb was on the stage in an instant. As he pounded toward the swinging door a shrill whistle sounded from outside, and when he reached the veranda deck Edmund and Isabella had vanished.
He traced the perimeter and saw straight away an obvious escape route across the hotel roof and then via the hotel’s distinctive annex with its turnip-shaped dome. A hazardous iron ladder down the side of the building — an apology of a fire escape — dropped into the alley at the back of the building. The street below was dark and appeared deserted, though he could hear distant echoing footsteps, the sound of hard-soled running boots on wooden boardwalks.
John appeared at his back, breathing noisily. “Should exercise more.” He gave a fleeting grin. “Any sign of them?”
Seb shook his head. “No. They
