She eyed me, still terrified. “Out.” She swallowed, a grimace of pain accompanying it. “Get out.” She struggled to sit up, managing it with Evan’s help.

“Yes, we will get you out,” I promised. “My friend here is a physician. He will help you.”

She looked back at Evan. He smiled: the reassuring doctor. It seemed to have some effect, for she took a deeper, shuddering breath.

“Can you tell me your name?” he asked.

“Jenny.” Her voice was so hoarse, the utterance painfully found.

“Do you know where you are? Can you tell me what street we are on?”

“Bedford Street.”

“Good. Can you swallow, Jenny?”

She did so, then nodded. “Hurts.”

He nodded sympathetically. “It will. Do you have a bad ache in your head? So bad it feels as if your skull will split?”

“No.” She lifted her hand, spreading forefinger and thumb.

“A small ache?” I asked.

She gave a tiny nod, wincing at the movement.

Evan smiled. “That’s very good. Are you dizzy? Does the room spin?”

Jenny looked over at the other sack and gasped, pushing her feet weakly into the floor to shift away. “Cathy?”

“You know her? Is she Catherine Hollis?” I asked.

Jenny gave another pained nod.

So we were right. “They killed her,” I said softly. “Do you know who any of them were?”

She shook her head and rasped, “Masks.”

“Do you think you can stand?” Evan asked. “We do need to get out of here.”

She nodded and slowly drew her legs underneath herself, levering her body up onto all fours. I stood and offered my hands. She gave a slight shake of her head and, drawing in a deep breath of effort, clambered to her feet, pressing her hands on the wall for support.

We all heard the noise above at the same time. Footsteps and voices.

“They’ve left ’em down below again,” a man’s voice called. “We’ll have to haul them up the steps.”

Good God, the real dustmen.

16

Evan was already moving. He pulled the hessian back up over Miss Hollis’s head.

“We’ll have to hide.” He grabbed the empty hessian bag and the flagon and rose from his crouch.

Jenny stood frozen against the wall. “Who?” she rasped.

“Dustmen,” I whispered. “To pick up the…bodies.”

That galvanized her into action. She took my offered support, leaning heavily upon my arm. I blew out the last of the candle and we followed Evan into the main chamber.

“We could confront them,” I whispered to him. “We should confront them!”

“No, they might be armed”—he paused to twitch the curtain closed—“or there could be more than two of them. We need to know what they are doing with the girls if it is to be stopped.”

I looked at Jenny’s bruised throat and dazed eyes. Yes. It had to be stopped.