“Never you mind. You ain’t sticking your nose in that one. But there’s somefink else I mean to do first.” He looked over his shoulder and lowered his voice further. Philomena strained every nerve to hear. “There’s an ’ouse round Paddington way. The family’s gone to the country. One of the brats took ill and they’ve all scarpered right out of town. I ’ear there’s only a couple of servants in the ’ouse, and they’ll be drinking their master’s wine tonight.” Joseph cackled. “So let’s get over there and see what we can find.”

Philomena held her breath. This was better news than she had dared to expect. Something was about to happen, this very night. Joseph had gone from petty theft to full-blown burglary. Poor Sam would turn in his grave if he knew. If Joseph were caught, he’d be deported, or worse. Plenty of thieves were hanged every year for such crimes.

Still, that was Joseph’s problem. Philomena would follow him and find out where he hid his booty. This was just what she’d hoped for. She’d get enough information to prove Joseph’s crimes and then threaten him with the police unless he told her about the man with cold green eyes and agreed to leave her in peace.

Philomena slipped out of the drinking parlour, making sure to attract no attention. She was almost invisible: a youth of few means wandering home for supper. Rain fell relentlessly. Philomena was glad of that, for once. Passersby had no desire to stop and stare in such weather. They scurried past as though Philomena did not exist.

Joseph had described the house he planned to target. She would get there first and find a hiding place. It was easy to find. One of a row of elegant townhouses built in the reign of George the Third, the back of the house was hardly visible from the street.

Philomena walked to the end of the road, turned left, continued for a few more minutes and turned left again into a narrower, unlit road. Here, the yards and gardens of the houses ended. Counting carefully, she established which back entrance led to the house Joseph planned to rob.

The gate was closed, but it was low. Glad of her breeches, so much more convenient for climbing than a skirt, Philomena scrambled over the gate and landed on the other side, a little breathless. Outbuildings lined one side, surrounded by bushes. Amongst them, gloomy in the shadows of a range of trees, were the privies, various tool sheds and a greenhouse.