By the time my fearful, racing heart understood what had happened, Eliza had disappeared into the water, the death I had dreamed of as my own. But animal instinct begged me away to the more urgent crisis before me: the constable mere inches away, his arms reaching, as though he, too, wanted to grab hold of the falling girl—for by jumping from the bridge, she had implicated herself, and the constable must have surely believed that only she could solve the mystery of who slipped the poison into the liqueur that killed Lord Clarence.

All around us, movement: a distraught-looking woman carrying a basket of oysters; a man herding a small flock of sheep south; several young children scattered about like rats. They all closed in, dressed in dark, morbidly curious.

The constable turned his gaze on me. “Were you in it together?” He motioned to the water.

I could not respond, so shattered was my still-beating heart. Below me the river toiled, as though angry with its newly claimed victim. It should not have been her. It should have been me. My desire to die was what brought us to the peak of this bridge, anyhow.

The constable spat at my feet. “Bloody mute, are we?”

I leaned onto the railing, my knees no longer serving me, and gripped the iron.

The second officer, brawnier than the first, came up behind him, his cheeks red and his chest heaving. “She jumped?” He peered around in disbelief before finally turning to appraise me. “This can’t be the second one, Putnam,” he shouted. “She can hardly stand. The two we saw running, they were dressed like anyone else.” He looked over the crowd, presumably searching for another cloaked figure with more vigor in her face than me.

“Damn you, Craw, it is, though!” Putnam yelled back, like a fisherman about to lose a valuable catch. “She can stand fine, she’s only shocked at the loss of her friend.”

I was, indeed. And I felt as though he meant to dig the fishhook as far into my flesh as it would go.

Craw stepped closer and leaned into his partner, lowering his voice. “You sure she’s not just one of the crowd, then?” He motioned around him. The mob of bodies, all dressed in similar dark coats as my own, had grown around us. By mere appearances, I blended in with them. “You’re sure enough to let her swing? The poisoner’s dead, sir.” He glanced over the edge of the bridge. “Buried in muck by now.”

A flash of doubt crossed Putnam’s face, and Craw seized it like a dropped coin. “We chased the rat out of her hole and we both saw her jump. It ends here. This is enough to satisfy the papers.”

“And the dead Lord Clarence?” Putnam screamed, his face red. He turned on me. “Do you know anything about him? Who bought the poison that killed him?”