She lay down on the damp cold ground, her hands between her legs. George surveyed her for a few seconds before he slipped off his overcoat and knelt in front of her, forcing her legs open with his knees.

‘You’re going to do some things for me, dear. And if, but only if, you do them very, very well, I’ll let you go home.’

He unzipped his trousers.

Cynthia felt a wave of nausea wash over her.

George was happy again. Today had not been so bad after all.

Kate knocked at Patrick’s door at nine thirty. He opened it to her himself.

‘I got your message, Pat, is everything all right?’

‘Yeah. I had a bit of business to attend to, that’s all.’

They went into the drawing room and Patrick poured them both a drink. Kate slipped off her coat and placed it on a chair. She looked around the familiar room and felt a warm glow engulf her. She liked Patrick’s house, liked it very much.

‘Is it still cold out, Kate?’

‘Yes, it’s going to rain later by all accounts.’

She sat on the settee and sipped her drink. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Pat?’

He jumped. He had been thinking about later, when he would finally get his hands on George Markham.

‘Sure.’ His voice was curt and he tried to calm himself.

‘I had a bit of aggro with one of the repomen, that’s all. It happens all the time.’

He should have left a message with her mother saying that he would see her tomorrow. He should not have arranged to see her tonight. They had been supposed to meet at eight and he had rung and told her mother to ask Kate to make it nine thirty instead. It was a mistake. If she knew what he was going to do tonight . . .

‘What kind of trouble? Her voice was concerned. He looked at her and loved her so much he felt an urge to cry.

‘Nothing to worry about, Kate. How’s things with you?’

His voice was softer now. She watched him lighting a cigarette. His hands were trembling.

‘All right. The blood testing is going great guns.’

‘I’m sure it is.’ His voice was hard.

He felt like telling her that it was all a waste of time, that the Grantley Ripper, George Markham, had paid a man to take the test for him. It was a bloody mockery, the lot of it.