Claire thought it would be difficult, maybe even impossible, to figure out the particulars of the carriage, and she’d have to struggle to get it to work, but as soon as she picked up the reins, the horse started off. Maybe it was her light touch, or perhaps the old horse knew he was being rescued; either way he took the opportunity to flee, not slowly clip-clopping like the previous horse and carriage. He took off at a trot. Claire felt light-headed. Horns honked and the carriage jostled up and down precariously, wooden wheels clacking.

The driver turned from Elv to see his carriage disappearing down the road. He took off running, even though it was impossible to catch up. On the sidewalk, Elv leaped up and down, applauding. “Yes!” she cried out. She wanted the horse to run as fast as it could. She felt alive and free and powerful. They had made their plan in absolute silence, that was how deeply she and Claire knew each other.

Meg and Mary Fox watched, stunned. The horse was at a full gallop now. Runners and cyclists scattered. The carriage was shaking, as though it might spring apart into a pile of wood and nails.

It took all of Claire’s strength to hold on to the reins. She remembered the number one rule her riding instructor had told her. Never let go, not under any circumstances. She could feel the leather straps cutting into her hands as she was tossed up and down on the seat. There was an upholstered pillow, but underneath there was only a plank of wood that hit against her tailbone. Maybe she should have been more frightened, but she had the impression the horse knew where he was going. He’d probably been along this same route a thousand times. Everything was a blur. There were sirens in the distance, blending together into a single stream of noise. Claire had never felt so calm. She had the sensation of floating, of following destiny in some way.

“Good boy,” Claire called, although she doubted the horse could hear her. Everything was so noisy. He was running and the air was rushing by. The horse had kept to the asphalt path, but he suddenly veered onto the grass. There was a big bump as they went over the curb. Claire could barely breathe, but she held tight to the reins. It was quieter on the grass. Everything smelled fresh and green. Now Elv would be proud of her. Now she would be the one to make the sacrifice, save the day.

Se nom brava gig, Elv would say. You are my brave sister.

Slats from the carriage were falling off, leaving a trail in the grass. They had almost reached the reservoir. That’s where the horse seemed to be heading. When they arrived, Claire hoped he would stop and drink. Everything would be fine then. She was certain of it. Maybe they could take him home, to the stables out on Long Island. She could bring him special treats every day, and he could be happy, and they could be too.

Mary Fox dashed back to the Plaza to look for her mother. She ran so fast that she began to have an asthma attack. She stopped when at last she reached the ballroom door. By then she was gasping. Tears were steaming down her face and she was shaking. Seeing Mary in such a state was shocking. Everyone knew her as logical Mary who read medical journals for fun. Now she seemed transformed. Her hair was straggly, her face ashen.

“Hurry!” she cried. Her voice sounded childlike, reedy. “It’s life or death!”

The girls’ grandfather, so recently ill, was taken home by Elise, who also had Mary in tow, her inhaler already in use. Madame Cohen was taken to her hotel by their uncle Nat so that she wouldn’t get the wrong impression of Americans and their dramas. Still, Madame Cohen worried about the Story sisters, especially the eldest, who had the misfortune of being too beautiful and had a far-off look in her eyes. Madame Cohen had seen what could happen to girls like that; they were picked off like fruit on a tree, devoured by blackbirds. No one liked to hear bad news, but she would have to warn Natalia. She would have to tell her to look more carefully at her eldest granddaughter. She would tell her to look inside.

PEOPLE GATHERED IN ragged groups outside the Plaza, hailing cabs, wondering how the day had gone so wrong. Annie and the girls’ grandmother raced to the line of carriage horses. When they explained to a policeman what had happened, he quickly called for a squad car. Everything seemed to be going at a different speed. Time was in fast-forward. At least the other girls were safe, running over to their mother and grandmother at the entrance into the park. Meg looked pale, but there was bright color in Elv’s cheeks.

When the police cruiser pulled up, Meg got in alongside her grandmother. She felt irresponsible and scared. She should have watched over Claire. Something had gone terribly wrong and she hadn’t done a thing to help.

Elv came to stand beside the squad car. There was green pollen in her hair. She looked shimmery and hot. Everything she touched smelled burned, like marshmallows held too long over a bonfire. “I hope that driver gets put in jail for a thousand years,” she said. Her voice was powerful, as though she were reciting a curse.

Annie felt a chill. Elv was always at the center of things, gathering the other girls around her. “Whose idea was this? Yours?”

Elv narrowed her green eyes. “It was animal cruelty.”

“Get in the car,” Annie told her. “We don’t have time to discuss it.”

Elv climbed into the back of the police car, sitting in the middle beside her sister, so crammed in she was practically on Meg’s lap. The cruiser took off through the park, siren blaring. All the windows were rolled down. The wind whipped through with such force that it stung. Elv wished they could go even faster. She liked the way her heart felt, thumping against her chest. As for Meg, she kept her fingers crossed and held her head down. She said a silent prayer. She couldn’t bear for anything bad to happen to Claire, who always put others first, even an old horse she’d never seen before.