“But you survived,” I said slowly, an opportunity dawning through the horror of the last hour. “If we can find out who is behind this, would you stand witness?”

“Against them who did this?” She touched her bruised throat. “Stand against the quality? You’re off yer nut.”

“But there will be other girls—”

“No one’ll listen to the likes of me,” she said. “And I don’t stick my neck out for no one.” She gave a yellow-toothed smile, dropping her hand from her throat. “Especially now, hey?”

A woman of macabre humor.

Through the hessian sack, she collected the silver into her hand to muffle its clank, then swung her bounty over her shoulder. “I ain’t stayin’ no longer.” She looked up the staircase. “Anyone left in the house?”

“A deaf caretaker,” I said. “You should go out the front. The dustmen may still be out the back.”

“Aye, I’m not stupid,” she said.

Evan stepped forward. “When you get to safety, promise me you’ll put cold rags on your neck. Ice if you can find it. It will stop the swelling and the pain. And take some willow bark. Every day for a week. You know it?”

She gave a nod—a thank-you and farewell in one—and started up the staircase, her steps still a little unsteady. Although it was a lost chance, I could not blame her for refusing to stand witness. She was right: not many would listen to a Covent Garden prostitute. Besides, it was a safe bet that the Exalted Brethren of Rack and Ruin had a good number of magistrates and judges in its membership.

We both watched her reach the top, pause to listen, then disappear from view as she turned to climb the next set of steps. The creak of the old staircase tracked her progress to the ground floor of the house. And then all was quiet.

“Will she recover?” I asked.

“She has every chance—no signs of permanent damage,” Evan said, his expression somber. “Still, a strangulation that does not kill is difficult to treat. It can have effects that linger.”

One of his specialties, but I did not say it. He had been reminded enough of his prison days.

I looked up the steps again. “Shall we go and follow our two bad coves? Do you think they will dump poor Miss Hollis in the Thames?”

“No, she would wash up. If I was getting rid of a body, I would take it to a cemetery. Bury it in a new grave.”

“You sound as if you have thought about this in some detail.”

“I have had a lot of time to think about a lot of things,” Evan said.

He led the way up the staircase, the wood creaking under our weight. On the fourth step from the top, he paused to peer through the banister, checking the basement corridor.