She moved before she could even think. The study door was ajar, and inside, Arthur stood beside his desk, one hand braced against the edge, the other pressed to his chest.

Papers were scattered across the floor, and a glass lay shattered near his feet.

“Mr. Penhaligon?” Maya cried.

“Get out of here,” he rasped.

“You’re hurt,” she said, stepping forward.

“I said get out.”