She left Madame Tussaud’s that afternoon and made her way toward Welbeck Street. She could have gone back to the Donnellys’ flat by a different route, but Parkington patrolled Welbeck. There was safety in that.

She passed by the cart of a fruit-and-veg monger, one she saw every day and who had shown himself to be friendly.

“What have you today, Peter?” she asked.

“Near about anything that strikes your fancy.”

The Donnellys weren’t exactly living in clover. They were also devilishly stubborn and wouldn’t let her add to the household coffers while staying with them. She’d fetch a spot to eat on her walk home but also snatch a bit of veg to toss in the larder.

Peter had a fine selection of carrots, good size, still firm and fresh. She paid her coin and held out her hand for the carrots. But, along with them, Peter gave her a small envelope.

“From a mutual friend,” he explained. “The papers you’s waiting on.”

Papers. From Mr. Sorokin, she’d wager.

“What do I owe you for these?” She lowered her voice but not so much that it would be suspicious.

“Our friend said he’d square with you.”

She nodded. It was proper dangerous for the street mongers to carry extra chink around with them. It’d be best if Peter were left out of the money exchange.

Not wanting to risk revealing the contents of the papers to someone who might be passing by, she tucked them carefully into the pocket of her coat and continued on her way, joining up with Welbeck Street and heading south.

Behind her, someone else made the same turn—a man in a green hat pulled low. That in itself weren’t unusual. The street was busy; people were about. But she’d seen that hat a few streets earlier. The man ought to have passed her while she was gabbing with Peter.

Gemma made an unplanned turn down Bentinck. It was nothing but homes of the working class. Only someone who lived in the area was likely to turn in that direction.

She didn’t look back; she didn’t need to. She heard his footfall. Another quick turn was mimicked by him. The roundabout route took her back to Welbeck, which was crowded with an absolute press of people.

Green Hat was still on her trail.

She could try losing her shadow in the crowd, but she might become stuck among them with no path out. If she ducked down a quieter alley, that might simply make her an easier target.

Gemma weaved around people and ducked behind carts. Now and then, she glanced back. Green Hat was always there. Every time.