“Some gentlemen believe they only need behave well under certain conditions,” Miss Townsend said from her corner. “They show another face when no ladies are present, or when not among gentlemen they need to impress with their uprightness.”

Such as a vicar, I added silently. “Is Mr. Thanos very upset?” I asked. He was a gentleman in all senses of the word.

“He is indeed. I believe he’s taken to his bed.” Cynthia’s face was wan. “Without repeating the entire sordidness of it, Mr. and Mrs. Woolner keep their married life lively by bringing in others to entertain them both. This may be another man or woman, or another couple—they openly hinted they’d like me and Mr. Thanos to join them. They also expressed interest in those much younger than themselves of either sex.” Her hand tightened on her teacup, and I understood her need to imbibe the night before. “They assured us they didn’t mean too young, but certainly not fully grown. And they assured us they paid the young people well.”

“Which makes it acceptable, in their eyes,” Miss Townsend added tightly.

I knew full well that girls of thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, and sadly even younger, lads too, plied such a trade on the streets and in bawdy houses. Some of the houses specialized in youngsters. Reformers and the law went through these houses from time to time and shut them down, but they sprang up again as soon as things quieted down. The practice, in all its guises, went on.

I set down the knife I’d lifted, calmly, as though rage did not rush through me. “I believe I will set the police on them.” I knew exactly which policeman. Inspector McGregor had no interest in a person’s rank or social standing, only that they’d committed a crime.

“I will join you,” Miss Townsend said. “If the police balk, I can speak to people who will hurry things along.”

Her anger matched mine. Cynthia took another gulp of tea. “I will as well. But as much as we pried, neither Thanos nor I believe the Woolners took the children in question. They would have boasted of it, I think. Nor was there any hint in their home, where we met them, that the children had ever been there. They could have hidden the mites away, of course, or stashed them elsewhere, but we heard no sound, saw no evidence of it. Not that I wouldn’t mind the police going through their house and searching. But I also say this because they did not seem to think it would be easy to lure a child from the Foundling Hospital, and in fact, liked that the children were kept there. They enjoy going on a Sunday afternoon and looking at them all, in their drab clothing and strict rules of behavior. The discipline, it seems, excites them.” She shuddered.