She could at least live up to the mask of courage that was expected of her. She too needed to believe that she was equal to anything she set herself. Physical courage was easy, compared with the inner strength to endure the pain of the heart.

Anyway, Squeaky Robinson was probably a perfectly ordinary businessman who had no intention of hurting anybody unless they threatened him, and she would be careful not to do that. This was only an expedition to look and learn.

The huge mass of Reid’s Brewery towered dark into the rain-drifted sky, and there was a sweet, rotten smell in the air.

She was obliged to stop where Portpool Lane ran close under the massive walls. She could no longer see where she was going. The eaves dripped steadily. There were shadows in the doorways, beggars settling for the night. Considering that she was in the immediate vicinity of exactly the kind of brothel she would have inhabited herself, had she been driven to the streets, the chances of her being misunderstood were very high. But she had passed a constable less than a hundred yards away. Certainly he was out of sight, but his presence was sufficient to deter the kind of customer who came here even more than most.

She leaned against the brewery wall, keeping away from the edge of the narrow curb, where the light from the street lamp shone pale on the wet cobbles. With her shawl covering her head and concealing most of her face, she did not look as if she were hoping to be noticed. The lane was a couple of hundred yards long, leading into the Gray’s Inn Road, a busy thoroughfare, traffic running up and down it until midnight or more, and the odd hansom cab even after that. The town hall was just around the corner. Squeaky Robinson was more likely to have his house in the shadows up one of the alleys at this end, opposite the brewery. His clients would want to be as discreet as possible.

Did such men feel any shame at the exercise of their tastes? Certainly they would wish it secret from society in general, but what about each other? Would they come if their equals with similar tastes were aware? She had no idea, but perhaps it would be clever of the proprietor of such a place to have more than one entrance—more than two, even? If so, the alleys opposite would be perfect. This end, not the other, where there was a large, very respectable looking building and a hotel beyond.