Phineas looked up, slightly startled by Eliza's voice even though he'd watched her get up. He rose to his feet, the muscles in his joints cracking from having slept on a hard surface. He looked down to see that the pistol had never left his hand. Most handguns in England were revolvers; that was the style. Phineas, however, had acquired a military issue pistol during his previous career, which had nine shots in the clip, one in the chamber. He pulled the clip out of the handle and inspected it; he had only six bullets left. He slid the clip back into position and sighed.
"If we move," Phineas said, "We'll have to do it quietly. I've only got six shots left so we can't risk a frontal confrontation. Any ideas?"