"Most," he agreed. "Some's more careful, some's less. Couldn't all get engines the same. But more'n that, the earth in't the same from one place ter 'nother. If yer ever dug it yerself, you know Chelsea in't the same as Lambeth, an' Rother'ide in't the same as the Isle o' Dogs." He was looking at her now, his eyes narrow and tired with pain. "There's all sorts: clay, rock, shale, sand. An' o' course there's rivers an' springs, but Sutton knows that. More'n 'em, there's old workings o' all sorts: drains, gutters, cellars, tunnels, an' plague pits. Goes back ter Roman times, some of 'em. Yer can't do it quick." He stared into the middle distance. Hester could only imagine what it was like for him sitting helpless in a chair while the world narrowed and closed in on him. He saw disaster ahead and was unable to do anything to prevent it. He was telling her because she asked, and she had come with Sutton, but he did not believe she cared, or could help, either.

His wife lost patience. "Why don't yer tell 'em straight?" she demanded, ignoring the boiling kettle except for a swift movement to remove it from the heat. If she had intended to make tea, it was forgotten now. "Were a cave-in wot took my 'usband's leg," she said to Hester. "One o' them big beams fell on 'im. Only way ter get 'im out before the 'ole lot caved in were ter take 'is leg orff. If they go on usin' them great machines shakin' everythin' ter bits up on top like that, sooner or later the sides is gonna cave in on top o' the men wots diggin' an' 'aulin' down the bottom. Or when we get rains like we 'ave in Feb'uary, one o' 'em sewers bursts, an' 'oos gonna get the men out before it floods, eh?" she demanded, her voice high and harsh. "I know a score o' women like me, 'oose husbands a' lorst arms an' legs ter them bleedin' tunnels. An' widders as well. Too many o' them damn railways is built on blood an' bones!"

"There've always been accidents," Hester said reluctantly. "Is any contractor especially bad?"

Collard shook his head angrily, his face dark. "Not as I know. Course there's accidents, no one's gurnin' about that! Yer do 'ard work, yer take 'ard chances. The wife's just bellyachin' 'cos it in't easy fer 'er. Is it, Lu? In't no better bein' a coal miner or seaman, or lots o' other things." He smiled mirthlessly. "Don't s'pose it's always rum an' cakes bein' a soldier, is it?" He waited for her answer.

"No," she agreed. "What is it, then, that you are concerned about?"

The smile vanished.