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Ellie swerved onto Grosvenor Avenue. She jumped down into the road again, narrowly avoiding the clustered buckets of blooms that Mr. Cresswell, the florist, always set out on the pavement under his awning.

A loud clatter sounded behind her as Jacobs collided with the display. After a brief delay, he freed himself from the tulips, and his footsteps pounded after her again.

Ellie’s legs and lungs burned as she sprinted toward the now-visible sign for Canonbury Station.

Forty six seconds, she thought furiously.

It was too much time.

Ellie raced toward the two sets of stairs that led down to the inbound and outbound platforms on opposite sides of the tracks.

She thought of the whistle that she had heard a moment before, and knew that it must be the five twenty-nine outbound service to Highbury sounding a warning as it approached the station. The five twenty-nine was a train she knew well, as it was the one that her father took home from work every evening.

Yes, she thought.Yes, that could do nicely.

Ellie dashed past the inbound stairs, hitting the outbound set instead. She hopped onto the railing and slid down the length of it, buying herself an extra six seconds.

As Ellie reached the bottom, Constance’s petite figure waved to her furiously from the inbound platform on the far side of the rail lines. Beside her, the gleaming black engine of the five-thirty express to West Croydon let off a burst of steam and a warning whistle before its departure.

“Inbound express to Shadwell, Rotherhithe, and Forest Hill!” the conductor shouted.

Twenty eight… twenty seven… twenty six…

Brakes screeched from the tracks to the east as the five twenty-nine outbound service slowed for its stop at Canonbury.

Jacobs’ footfalls rattled on the grate of the stairs behind her.

Constance shouted over, bouncing nervously up and down where she waited by the inbound train.

“Ellie, you’re on the wrong—”

Ellie jumped off the platform.

Her boots landed solidly in the gravel of the track bed. She kicked off against the stones, scrambling across the tracks as the five twenty-nine let off an alarmed whistle.

She felt the rush of the cars behind her as the outbound service crossed the place where she had been standing a moment before.

Ellie hurried in front of the waiting inbound engine and climbed up onto the platform. A small but sturdy hand grasped her arm to help haul her up.

“That was magnificent!” Constance exclaimed with a happy flush in her cheeks.

“Last call for Rotherhithe and Forest Hill!” the conductor shouted.

Constance shoved Ellie toward the first class car. Ellie half stumbled inside as Constance hopped up behind her.

The car jerked as the engine chugged into motion. Constance pushed Ellie into an empty compartment.

Ellie went straight to the window, tugged it down, and stuck her head out through it.

The cars of the inbound train flashed past, and the outbound platform was revealed.

She spotted the trim, mustachioed figure of her father moving toward the stairs, his nose pressed to the pages of the latest edition of theFinancial Times.

Behind him, Jacobs stood like a dark, still pillar in the midst of a moving mass of evening commuters. His thoughtful, assessing gaze locked onto hers across the growing distance that separated them until he slipped from view.

Ellie collapsed into her seat, releasing her breath in a whoosh.

“That was by far the most exciting thing I have ever done,” Constance announced, plopping down across from her.