‘Never!’ screeched Daisy.

‘Yus. Murdered his own sister.’

‘Did you know the sister?’

‘’Member her, way back. Pretty little thing. Ran away. He used to beat ’er. He wanted ’er to go with Mr Jones, him what owned the haberdashery down the Mile End Road. Lived in Breem Lane. Now, she was but fifteen and Jones was in ’is late thirties. Scandal, it were. Betty, that was the daughter, she said she wouldn’t and Biles beat the living daylights out of her. She took the money out of the till and just went off. Can’t say I blame her.’

‘I’m sure this Mr Jones found someone else.’

‘Yes, he got himself a nice little bride and it all worked out in the end.’

Daisy paid for the groceries and they left and walked back to the waiting cab. ‘That ham did not look fresh,’ said Rose. ‘Give it away.’

‘If I give it away to someone nearby, word’ll get back to her. Let’s find out where Breem Lane is.’

Breem Lane was narrow and dirty. Scruffy children without shoes played in the dirt. Blowsy women hung out of windows and stared at the carriage.

‘Better let me go on with the talking,’ said Daisy as they both stood uneasily by the cab.

She shouted up to a fat woman at one of the windows, ‘Mr Jones, the haberdasher, live here?’

‘Naw, left to go live uptown.’

‘Where would that be?’

The woman half turned her head and shouted, ‘Marigold!’

‘What is it, Ma?’ a voice called from inside the flat.

‘Someone wanting Jones’s address. ’Member, him what ’ad the haberdashery?’

‘Notting Hill it were. Chepstow Mansions. Real posh. Liza went to do the cleaning once, but they got rid o’ her.’

Daisy thanked the woman. They got back in the cab. ‘Notting Hill,’ Daisy shouted up to the driver. ‘Chepstow Mansions.’

‘You’re running up a fearsome bill,’ grumbled the cabby.

‘Get on with you,’ ordered Daisy. ‘We’ve got the money.’

She lowered the trap in the roof and sank back next to Rose. ‘You have got the money, I hope,’ said Daisy.

‘Yes, I came prepared. Oh, wait. Look at that poor woman. I don’t think she’s had a meal in ages.’ Rose rapped on the roof with her parasol and the cab came to a halt.

‘Give her the groceries,’ said Rose.

Daisy got out of the cab and handed the woman the paper bags full of groceries and then quickly got back in again. ‘Drive on,’ she shouted.

Meanwhile, Harry and Becket had spent a weary time looking for the witnesses, George and Sarah Briggs. No one seemed to have heard of them. But people regarded them with suspicion.

At last, Becket cleared his throat and said cautiously, ‘You might try offering money for information, sir. If I were you, I would start with one shilling and a bright child.’

‘I think we’re attracting too much attention with this motor. Drive off and park it somewhere up in the City – then we’ll take a cab and when we get back here, we’ll walk about on foot.’