"That's right," Monk encouraged her. He looked at Leda, the younger, and he already knew her the more serious, more conscious of her affliction.

"M-Mar-tha?" Leda tried hard, licking her misshapen lip.

Martha smiled through her tears, taking a step forward instinctively, then stopping. It was plain in her face she was afraid of moving too quickly. They did not know her. They might not wish to be touched by a stranger... and she was a stranger to them still.

Phemie held out her hand in response, slowly at first.

Martha took it gently, holding out her other hand to Leda.

There was a moment's silence as the lights inside the hallway shone out into the gray afternoon, reflecting in the drifting rain and the cabs and carriages splashing along the street behind the sodden man with hair plastered across his face in dark streaks, his clothes sticking to him, and two gaunt and ragged young women, hair like rats' tails, clothes torn and thin.

Then Leda stretched her hand and gave it to Martha, holding on to her with surprising strength.

"Come inside," Martha invited. "Get warm and dry ... and have some hot soup."

Monk found himself grinning idiotically. He wanted to laugh with joy.

"I think you had better come too, Mr. Monk," Martha said in a very unbusinesslike tone. "You look terrible. I'll find you some better clothes before you see Miss Latterly. I'm sure something of Mr. Gabriel's will fit you, for the time being. Then I'll let Miss Latterly know you are here."

He wanted to tell Hester himself, see her face when he said he had found the girls. It was perhaps childish, but it mattered to him with a fierceness that startled him.

"I..." he began, then did not know what to say. How could he explain what he felt without sounding absurd? Then he remembered Delphine Lambert. "I have something very urgent to tell her."

Martha looked at him doubtfully, but she was too grateful to deny him anything at all.

"I'll tell her you are here," she agreed. She regarded his filthy and disreputable state ruefully. "You'd better wait in the pantry. But don't stand on the carpet... and don't sit down!"

"I won't," he promised, then followed her obediently as she led the two girls towards the green baize door through to the servants' quarters, guiding them as they stared in awe. They had never been inside a house so large or so clean—or so warm—in their lives.

Martha pointed to the butler's pantry, which was presently empty, and promised to send the maid up with a message to Hester.

It was less than five minutes before she came down, only the most momentary surprise on her face when she saw his state. She closed the door.