The constable did not answer. To tell the truth, he looked a little afraid, as if answering the question might give Pertellis the power to flit away from the jail like a genie and steal his children.

“You were seen,” he declared in a steely tone, “meeting with the said Halk Partridge, speaking with him, paying him a sum of money, and walking away in conversation with him, after which time the said Halk Partridge was never seen alive again.”

“Who says so?” Pertellis looked simply perplexed.

It doesn’t matter it doesn’t matter he’s going to be hanged anyway and there’s nothing I can do about it . . . Mosca was guided forward by the constable, in a kind but firm manner. It’s too late now anyway because I nodded when they asked and it’s done, and now I don’t have any choice . . .

Pertellis peered at Mosca as she stepped forward unwillingly, and a sad dawn of realization swept across his face as he recognized her. She stared back, her eyes wide and helpless with misery.

“There now, child.” Clent’s voice, warm and confident. “He’s manacled, he won’t harm you.”

“Are you willing to swear on your oath that this was the man you saw? A nod will do.” The constable’s voice, calmer now.

Pertellis gave her a faint smile that was sad but kind, almost encouraging. It’s all right, said the smile. It’s all right. I know you have no choice.

Mosca suddenly realized that she did have a choice.

“No! You can’t make me say it, Mr. Clent! It’s none of it true, an’ you can’t make me say it!” Mosca’s voice, which had been trapped in her chest for hours, suddenly erupted, as shrill and unstoppable as steam from a kettle. “Every time I do what you say I tumble a bit farther down this well of darkness, an’ this here is a drop too deep an’ too dark for me. I have to stop falling while I can still see a bit of the sky. Mr. Pertellis never killed Mr. Partridge. It was Mr. Clent—I found him bendin’ over the body back at our rooms, puttin’ it into the old clothes chest. He told me to help him put the body in the river an’ I did, ’cause I knew he was a murderer an’ he would kill me if I didn’t, an’ I’ll swear to that if you need me to.” The details of the dreadful night rushed out of her in a shrill torrent, and there was no stopping them.

Clent answered her flashing gaze with a look of utter shock. Behind his eyes stars were falling.

“Beloved above,” the constable muttered in disgust. “All right, take Mr. Pertellis back to his cell—and throw this one into the condemned hold as well, until we can sort out a trial.”