"Of course. But she's done very well indeed. She's a wealthy woman in society, beautiful, respected, has a husband who loves her and a beautiful daughter no one knows is not hers, except us."

"Exactly," she agreed, looking at him.

"Hester... ?" A thought began in his mind.

"What did he die of?" she asked softly.

"Bleeding . .. bleeding in the stomach."

"What caused it?"

"I—I don't know. Illness?" His mouth was suddenly dry.

"How convenient for Dolly Jackson," Hester said, looking at him very steadily.

He put his cup down. His hands were clumsy, stiff. "Poison?"

"I don't know. But I want to know. Don't you?"

"Yes .. . and I'm going to find out."

"I'm coming with you. . .."

"I don't know that I—I don't know what..." he began.

"I can help." Her face was set in immovable determination. "We'll start tomorrow. When I tell Gabriel he'll insist." She stood up.

"I'm not sure you should. We may be wrong."

She looked at him with eyes wide, her mouth twisted in a mixture of urgency and anger. "We'll need money. I haven't any. Have you?"

"No." He was too tired to argue. And anyway, she was right.

"Then it's settled. I'll go and talk to Gabriel about it, and he'll give us some. We'll start tomorrow morning—early!" She wrinkled her nose at him, and she went out of the room with a swish of skirts, held high. He heard her heels light and rapid along the corridor.

They did start out very early the following day. By half past eight on a blustery spring morning they were in a hansom on the way east and south to Putney. Gabriel had been generous with all he could spare, his only regret being that he was not yet well enough to come with them, and an acute awareness that his disfigurement might prove a hindrance. Meeting strangers was a difficulty he had yet to overcome. It would always be painful. No matter how many times he did it, for them it would always be the first time. The horror and embarrassment would be new.

Now Monk and Hester were sitting side by side in the hansom bowling along at a smart pace through the elegant streets of Chelsea, with the river glinting in the light. To the left lay Battersea Reach, curving away from them. They would pass the gas works and go along the Kings Road with Eel Brook Common to the right. Beyond that was Parsons Green and the Putney Bridge to the south. It was a very long journey.