“Can you?” He could not hide his eagerness. He had not managed to turn up anything so definite himself. Of course, she was trusted in a way he never could be. She was living and working among these people, risking her life daily to tend to them in their extremity. He pushed that thought away.

“Who? Where do I find them?”

She gave him a list of five names-one man, three women and a youth-and in all cases where he could find them.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “That is excellent. If any one of them can tell me something, we may yet help Mrs. Stonefield. I shall begin immediately.”

But he did not. That evening he had arranged to see Drusilla, and it was a pleasure he longed for. Not even to help Genevieve Stonefield could he forgo it and creep around the slums and rookeries of Limehouse in the dark and the cold. It could wait until tomorrow, when it would be both easier and safer. Caleb had to be aware Monk was still pursuing him. He was not a man to wait idly to be caught.

The weather had cleared and it was a dry, chilly evening with only the ever-present pall of smoke hiding the stars.

Half past seven found Monk superbly dressed, stepping out of a hansom cab to meet Drusilla on the steps of the British Archaeological Association in Sackville Street. She had requested that he meet her there because she had said she had promised to accompany a friend for dinner, which was a great bore. She had cancelled the arrangement, but in order to avoid lengthy and unnecessarily dishonest explanations, she could not be at home.

She appeared at exactly half past, as she had said she would. She wore a wide-skirted gown of silk the color of candlelight through brandy, and it complimented her marvelously. She seemed to glow in golds and tawny bronzes and her skin had a delicacy and a warmth unlike any he had seen before.

“Is something amiss?” she said laughingly. “You look terribly serious, William!”

The sound of his name from her lips was acutely pleasing. He collected his attention with an effort.

“No, nothing at all. I even have news which may help me eventually to find where poor Angus Stonefield met his death.”

“Have you?” she said eagerly, taking his arm and falling into step as he matched his pace to hers. “It does seem terribly tragic. Did he do it merely from jealousy, do you suppose? Why now? He must have been jealous of him for years.” She gave a little shiver. “I wonder what happened which suddenly made such a difference? I don't suppose it really matters, but don't you long to know?” She turned to look at him curiously. “Don't you think it is one of the most interesting subjects in the world, why people do what they do?”