“That,” she explained quietly, “is the office. There is the lab, where Roger and Martin work: They’re the chemistry team. Around that corner is going to be the metal shop. Soames and Oswald are putting it together right now, and the carpenter’s busy on the kitchen. But it’ll be a while before everything is in shape. The floor above us is still half derelict, and I’m going to convert a couple of rooms into paper storage and more drafting offices before we move the office work to new premises. Currently I’ve got eight men working here full-time. We’d better introduce you to all of them.”

She guided Olga into a variety of rooms, rooms full of furnaces, rows of glass jars, a lathe and drill press, gas burners. Men in suits, men in shirts and vests, red-faced or pale, whiskered or clean-shaven: men who stood when she entered, men who deferred to Miriam as if she was royalty or management or something of both.

Olga shook her head as they came out of the building. “I wouldn’t have believed it,” she said quietly. “You’ve done it. All of them, followers, all doing your bidding respectfully. How did you manage it?”

Miriam’s cheek twitched. “Money,” she murmured. “And being right, but mostly it was the money. As long as I can keep the money coming and seem to know what I’m talking about, they’re mine. I say, cab! Cab!” She waved an arm up and down and a cabbie reined his nag in and pulled over.

“Greek Street, if you please,” Miriam said, settling into the cab beside Olga.

Olga glanced at her, amused. “I remember the first time you met a carriage,” she said.

“So do I.” Miriam pulled a face. “These have a better suspension. And there are trains for long journeys, and steam cars if you can afford the expense and put up with the unreliability and noise.”

The cab dropped them off at Greek Street, busy with shoppers at this time of day. Miriam pulled her bonnet down on her head, hiding her hair. “Come on, my dear,” she said, in a higher voice than normal, tucking Olga’s hand under her arm. “Oh, cab! Cab, I say!” A second cab swooped in and picked them up. “To Holmes Alley, if you please.”

Miriam checked over her shoulder along the way. “No sign of a tail,” she murmured as the cab pulled up. “Let’s go.” They were in the door of the pawn shop before Olga could blink, and Miriam whipped the bonnet off and shook her hair out. “Erasmus?”

“Coming, coming—” A burst of loud wet coughing punctuated his complaint. “Excuse me, please. Ah, Miriam, my friend. How nice of you to visit. And who is this?”

“Olga, meet Erasmus Burgeson.” Miriam indicated the back curtain, which billowed slightly as Erasmus tried to stifle his coughing before entering. “Erasmus, meet my friend Olga.”