“Yeah?” she said contemptuously. “An’ ’ow are yer gonna do that, then? Buy a nice little room somewhere where they’ll never find me, will yer? An’ food an’ summink ter do, then?”

The answer was instant in his mind. “Yes, actually, that’s exactly what I’ll do. But to do it, I need the truth, preferably with some way you can prove it.”

She blinked, hope flickering in her eyes. “Like ’ow?”

“Describe the cravat to me.”

“Eh? It were just a dark blue tie, that sort o’ shape.” She made a picture in the air. “Silk,” she added.

“How long?”

Again she gestured, holding her hands just under three feet apart.

“Go on,” he prompted. “What else?”

“It’s narrer in the middle an’ wide at both ends,” she said. “One end bigger than the other … longer, like.”

“Was it plain or patterned?”

“Patterned. Yer know that, fer Gawd’s sake! It ’ad little yeller animals on it, three at a time. Cats, or summink.”

“How?”

“One on top o’ the other. Three of ’em.”

“Thank you, Hattie. I believe you. Now go and pack some clothes into a bag, get dressed, and I will take you to a safe place.”

She remained sitting down. “Where?”

“In the city, Portpool Lane. You will be safe there. You will be fed and have your own room. You’ll work for it, at whatever Mrs. Monk tells you to do.” He saw the look on her face. “It used to be a brothel,” he said with a broad smile. “It’s a clinic for sick women, and injured ones.”

She swore at him, colorfully and with profound feeling, but she did as he told her.

They took a hansom from the Chiswick mall all the way into the city. It was a long and expensive ride, but Monk felt it was more than warranted by the circumstances. He did not wish her to be seen with him; in fact, he could not afford it. It would be so easy for anyone to make a few inquiries and find the clinic. Perhaps he should warn Squeaky Robinson to keep a close eye on Hattie and see that she did not show herself in the rooms where casual patients came for treatment or help, at least until the case had come to trial and she had testified. After that, her safety could be reconsidered.

As the wheels rumbled over the streets, he engaged her in conversation, as much in order to take her mind off her present situation as in the expectation of learning anything more. Either way, he failed.

“Yer gotta keep ’im from findin’ me,” she said, hugging her arms around her body and sitting forward on the seat. “ ’E’ll do me, ’e will.”

“Who?” he asked.

“Tosh, o’ course!” she answered angrily. “I in’t scared o’ Crumble. ’E couldn’t squash a fly. Feared of ’is own shadder, an’ fearder still o’ Tosh.”