‘You are very kind, my lady.’

The doctor and a nurse reappeared. ‘I think Mrs Becket should be left to rest,’ said the doctor.

‘Find a room here for her husband,’ ordered the earl. ‘My secretary is around somewhere. Make the arrangements with him.’

Back home, Rose thanked her parents for their care of Daisy. ‘I thought I never liked the gel,’ said Lady Polly with a sigh. ‘Then I remembered how she had saved your life and how brave she had been. It was the least we could do.’ And before Rose could thank them again, Lady Polly said briskly, ‘Now, to more important matters. How did you get on with Roger?’

‘Very well.’

‘And when are you seeing him again?’

‘We are to take luncheon together tomorrow, but now, in view of Daisy’s predicament . . .’

‘Piffle. She will be well looked after.’

* * *

Rose went up to her room, wondering what to do about Roger. Roger seemed to her to present a golden world of travel and respectability, far away from getting attacked in the East End. Her parents would be so pleased. She would never have to worry again about Harry’s fancy being taken by another woman, never again feel that burning misery she had experienced when he had promised to escort her to a ball or party and had failed to turn up. Marriage to Roger would mean travel and companionship. Marriage to Harry, on the other hand, held only the promise of hurt and danger.

Harry stretched his bad leg out in front of him as he sat in a chair opposite Kerridge. ‘So do you think we have our murderer?’

‘I’m sure we have, although Jones is swearing blind he’s innocent of that.’

It had transpired that Jones had not sold the shop in the Mile End Road, but had turned it over to Daisy’s assailant, Pat Docherty. The shop had been used as a front. The police had wondered for quite a time where robberies from the ships at London’s docks had gone to. Now, they knew. The cellars below the shop had been crammed with stolen goods. Jones had worked as the fence. Docherty had caved in after his arrest and told them everything, including the names of all the other men who had worked for Jones.

‘As Jones knew so many villains, it stands to reason that although he may not have done the murders himself, he could easily have got one of his ruffians to do them for him.’

‘We’re fingerprinting the lot of them, although the gun that shot Dolores had Lady Rose’s fingerprints on it. Isn’t society amazing? If Lady Rose had been Miss Bloggs of Nowhere, she’d be ready for a hanging about now.’

‘Don’t even think about it. I’m off to the hospital to see Daisy.’

Harry was told that Mrs Becket was asleep and was conducted to the room given to Becket.

‘How is she?’ asked Harry.

‘She’s lost the baby. She has a bad concussion and lost a lot of blood but they say she is going to be all right.’