I nodded, more to hide my horror at such exigencies than in accord. “Have you heard about anyone who has gone missing from the club or died from their injuries?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You lost someone? Is that why you askin’?”

“No.”

She considered me again. “I’ve heard that sometimes there be a girl inside the club who ain’t from the Garden or in the game. A cit from the middlin’s, or even genteel.”

“Genteel girls, are you sure?”

She shrugged. “Just heard it. Might be runaways, ’ey? They oftentimes end up on their backs. But I ain’t heard of anyone goin’ missin’ or slippin’ the mort direct from that club.”

That did not quite tally with what Dorothy the flower seller had told us: girls going in but not coming out.

Long Sal lifted a bony shoulder. “Mind you, there be a lot of us, and not just ’ere in the Garden. It could’ve happened. Lots of things happen to the likes of us and not a soul knows about it. Sometimes we’re lucky and sometimes we’re not. It’s just how it is.”

Her measurement of luck was very different from mine.

“One last question. Do you know the names of any of the men who go to the club?”

She laughed. “Aye, we meet up for a gin and chop every week.” She held out her cupped hand. “They got no names, just like we don’t for them.”

I dropped the shilling into her palm. “Thank you.” I paused, then smiled. “Long Sal.”

She gave a wry huff of appreciation and bobbed a curtsy. “Thank you, sir, for the shillin’.” She turned to go, then swung around again, her head tilted in a motherly fashion. “This much coin gives you a mod of advice too. You may be dressed like us, but I know you be a gentleman and…maybe not on the straight course.” I opened my mouth to deny my gentle status, but she held up her hand. “Don’t fret, I’ll say nothin’. But it ain’t good for the likes of you to be asking questions round ’ere. Alone. Go back to where you come from. And don’t mess with them at that club. They got the world sewn up and no one’s going to change it. Nothing changes, mister. We all stay where God puts us.”

I gave a bow, for the advice and her discretion. She held up the coin with a grin—a triumphant celebration of her sudden wealth—then tucked it into the folds of her gown and together we made our way back to the main market.