That evening, Rose was feeling tired. She was also hungry, but there was no sign of Daisy and she wondered whether she should start eating without her.

At nine o’ clock, there was a knock on her door. Rose opened it. Miss Harringey stood there. ‘There is a person downstairs to see you.’

Rose arched her eyebrows. ‘I do not see persons, Miss Harringey. What does he want?’

‘I do not approve of gentlemen callers. Would you be so good as to descend and send him on his way.’

Rose followed her down the stairs. ‘He is in my sanctum,’ said Miss Harringey, throwing open the door.

Rose stared at Billy, from his dyed greased hair down over his plaid suit with the brown velvet lapels to his brown boots, and then her eyes travelled back up again to his face.

‘Yes?’

‘I am Mr Billy Gardon. You may have heard of me.’

‘No. State your business.’

‘It’s a delicate matter,’ said Billy, looking at Miss Harringey. ‘It’s about Daisy.’

‘Step outside with me,’ said Rose. ‘Thank you, Miss Harringey.’

She led Billy out into a small hall and closed the door behind her on Miss Harringey’s curious face.

Miss Harringey opened the door a crack. She heard Billy saying, ‘Miss Levine’s been taken ill. She’s at the theatre. I got a flat there, up top. She’s asking for you.’

‘I will get my coat and come with you directly,’ said Rose.

Captain Harry Cathcart was enjoying his breakfast on Sunday morning when his manservant, Becket, announced, ‘Mr Matthew Jarvis to see you on urgent business.’

‘Mr Jarvis?’

‘The Earl of Hadshire’s secretary.’

Harry felt a sudden stab of unease. ‘Show him in.’

Matthew strode into the room, his normally pleasant face white with strain. ‘I came to you directly. I normally don’t work on Sundays, particularly with his lordship being away . . .’

‘Sit down, Mr Jarvis. Coffee?’

‘No, thank you. I decided to work this morning because I planned to visit my mother in the country tomorrow. I was going through Saturday’s post and found this. It had been delivered by hand.

Harry took the cheap envelope and extracted a piece of lined paper. He read: ‘If you want to see your daughter again, bring five thousand guineas to Jack Straw’s Castle in Hampstead on Monday at two in the afternoon. Don’t tell no one or she’s dead.’

‘Jack Straw’s Castle – that’s that pub on Hampstead Heath, isn’t it?’ asked Harry.

‘Yes. Oh, what are we to do?’ wailed Matthew. ‘If the police are informed, it will all come out that Lady Rose was working for a living and she will be socially damned for the rest of her life!’

‘Leave it with me,’ said Harry. ‘Becket, get my hat and coat and come with me.’

‘So,’ said Harry, when he and Becket were confronting Miss Harringey half an hour later, ‘you will understand that as Miss Rose’s brother, I am anxious to find her. I have but recently returned from Australia.’