Yes, what you’re thinking is correct. One morning a man came off a ship with a bag of his belongings and stood watching me dance. I remember his face very well, though at that moment it meant only that we might have a new boarder. It was later, during the thing that was to come, that his face was burned into my memory: A nose long and a shade crooked, as if broken more than once, a high forehead with many furrows, a thick chin adorned with a short brown beard, brown hair also cropped short and pale green eyes. It was only later, during the moment, that I thought they were the eyes of the cats that roamed the harbor creeping up on birds and mice and tearing them to shreds. And sometimes—ofttimes—those cats never ate what they killed. It was for the pleasure of the hunt. It was for the killing, and that was all.

This man’s name—or at least the name he put down on the ledger—was Broderick Robson. A false name? Yes. The constable who investigated the incident later learned the man had arrived from Newcastle on the ship the Broderick Robson. It was a fitting name, for he robbed both my mum and myself … she of her life, and me of everything but that … and I suppose, that too.

I will take a moment to think on some things. I do not like the cold, but I like the sound the wind makes. It’s almost like music, is it not?

So. This man Robson. He was in London for a week, he said. Here to see an attorney and settle a score. That was all he said and we knew better than to ask, for it seemed to be a private trouble. During that week we had three more boarders, but they stayed only a few nights and then they were off again. Robson kept to himself, took his meals in his room, went out walking at night and slept long past the breakfast hour. Then one afternoon he asked my mother if I might dance for him after his evening meal, in his room, for his entertainment. He said that was why he had come to our house, because of my dancing. Such a perfect little girl, he said. I brightened the world, he said, and the world needed brightening because it was such a dark place. He called me a little candle. I recall very sharply that he said that. Well, my mother agreed that I should dance for not only him but for Mister Patrick and Mister and Misses Carnahan who were staying there, and I should perform in the parlor that evening.