As George had suspected the door that matched Annabel's description was a cell. He looked back down the hall to double check that this was where he wanted to be and then opened the little observation window in the cell door. The man who looked back at him was emancipated and pale from obvious long imprisonment but there was still a gleam of command in his eyes that made George instinctively want to call him sir. George pulled out his saw and started work on the door with no words passing between him and the other man, who simply looked on with some interest as the door fell to George's tools.
“Are you English, sir?” George asked once he was in the cell. The man looked even weaker and more sickly now that they were next to one another.
“No,” said the man, his voice heavily accented, “but I speak your language. What do we do now?”
“We leave, come with me sir and we will see if we can't get you out of here.” George was even more self conscious as they left the building then he had been as he had entered it. He was still well disguised but he was painfully aware that his companion was there for all eyes to see. He was also too weak to travel quickly which made George painfully aware of how much time had passed. He was about to jump out of the window without even considering the guard having possibly returned but his companion stopped him and looked both ways very carefully before he would let George go and then help him down.
As George and the former prisoner walked down the street to return to the alley where he had agreed to meet Annabel George could feel his heart about to beat out of his chest. He was sure that he looked the part of the peasant and he was sure that in his rags the prisoner could be easily taken as a beggar but it was no comfort for him until he was back in the alley where Annabel had already changed into her ball gown and waited.
“Monsieur,” Annabel said, jumping up from where she had been seated on a crate to great the prisoner. “What have they done to you? I thought I would never see you again. We heard you had been captured and I was sure that you would be executed before any could save you,” Annabel was clearly agitated, the first true emotion George could think of having ever seen in her.
“They thought to get information from me before killing me, of course I would tell them nothing and so prolonged my life while they thought of new ways to torture me. My Annabel, how much you've grown since last I saw you, I had wondered who they might send, if they risked anyone at all for an old man like me. But tell me, who is this friend of yours who broke me out of prison in such a reckless manner?”
“He is just learning, I recruited him for the occasion actually, I am trying to teach him just like you taught me. Monsieur, may I introduce Mr. Helms, George may I introduce Monsieur Rosemonde.” George could see the former prisoner raise an eyebrow at him when Annabel addressed him by his first name but there was no more time for idle chatter, they were still on a schedule. Annabel excused herself to go find a cab for Monsieur Rosemonde, leaving the men in privacy to change their clothing. Annabel had instructed George to order an outfit that Rosemonde now dressed in and George dressed in the same clothing he had worn when they had said goodbye to Alexander. It seemed like ages now but he was starting to realize it had only been about an hour.
To be continued...
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