Evan frowned; then his face, too, twisted into fury. “You mean they wagered on how long it would take her to die? Jesus Holy Christ.” He stared at the floor for a moment, fists clenched. His desire to punch something was palpable.

Then it dawned on me. I touched the paper in my pocket. “Sally Lawrence had the same time wager against her name. They killed her too.”

“And you think there is a link between Sally Lawrence and the doctor at the duel?” Evan said.

“I do. If she died in the same manner as this poor girl, then perhaps that is a motive.” I looked at the second sack. “How many girls have died down here?” I whispered.

He followed my gaze. “At least one more.” He reached across and untied the rope, pulling the hessian down.

The other missing woman. A grubby silk stocking was still tied around her throat, and the pallor of her skin showed a stark flush of tiny red dots across her cheeks. She looked to be still clothed in her chemise. I shuddered, remembering the other silk stocking in the wager book room upstairs. Had this strangulation been some kind of spectacle?

Evan sighed and pressed his fingertips on her throat above the ligature.

I pushed the knitted purse into my pocket—not quite up to opening it yet—then sat back on my heels. “Do you think—”

“Wait.” Evan frowned and slid searching fingers up under her jawline. “Gus…I think she is still alive.”

“What?” I stared at the woman’s slack face as Evan held his hand under her nose. Did I just see the flicker of a swollen red eyelid?

“Yes, she breathes.” He snatched back his hand and pulled the hessian down, past her chest. “Help me get her out of the sack.”

He gathered her up under her arms and lifted as I dragged the sack down her body, disentangling her bare feet from its folds. Her skin was so cold to the touch.

“Chafe her hands and her feet while I get this stocking off. We must get her blood moving.”

I grabbed her freezing hands and rubbed them between my own, then switched to her bony feet. Evan had taken a small knife from his boot and was sawing through the silk ligature.

“There,” he said triumphantly as it fell from her throat, revealing the hideous red mark of strangulation. “They must not have checked she was dead. Thank God.”

He started to feel around her head, fixed upon his work. “She does not have any lumps or swelling.”

Her eyelids flickered again. “I think she is coming to her senses,” I said.

A soft moan. And then her eyes opened wide, terror in their bloodshot depths. She thrashed weakly against Evan’s hold.

“No, stop!” I said. “You are safe. We are friends. Friends!” I caught her hands again, holding them. “They are all gone. You are safe now.”