Ian woke to a loud bang on the front door. He listened. The knock repeated, and he jumped from bed to dress. A visitor near midnight meant nothing good, especially with the British controlling the city.
Patrick rushed into his room. “It’s the redcoats!” he hissed. “Five or six of them out in the street.”
“Open up, Ian Blaine,” a soldier demanded.
“You’ve got to get out,” Patrick urged. “Hurry! I’ll stall them.”
“We know you’re in there,” a second voice called.
“Give me a second to get some clothes on,” Patrick yelled down to the first floor, their living quarters above the shop.
“You’ve got two minutes,” the British shouted.
“Tell them I’m in Jersey,” Ian said as he finished dressing. “Just as Barnabas said.”
“I’ll try to convince them,” Patrick assured him. “But you better hide fa
