“Just Annabelle will do. Now, follow me and let’s get you two safely hidden away.” She waved them into the hall.

“We can get out through the alley,” Clay said.

“Not tonight. Police are all over the neighborhood. You’d best hide here.” At the end of the hall she swung open a painting to reveal a handle, which she turned. The bookcase on the other wall popped open.

“Clever,” Clay murmured and widened the opening for Florence to slip through. Darkness enveloped her once again. She had no idea where they were, but she was grateful to be safe. Getting questioned or arrested in a casino would certainly not go over well with her father.

“You aren’t the only one with secret rooms,” Annabelle said. When Clay followed inside, Annabelle whispered, “Be quiet in here and enjoy the show.”

“Wait, is this—”

“I’ll come and fetch you when Jack says it’s safe.” Her hand flicked near Florence’s head and a wooden panel the size of a small painting slid on the wall. Goodness, it was an opening. Was this like Clay’s peephole?

Before Florence could ask, the door closed and latched shut. Soft yellow light in the opening caught her attention and she leaned in.

“I wouldn’t look in there, were I you.”

She ignored Clay and peered into the rectangle of light. Good God. She could see into the bedroom next door. And there were people in there. She jerked back, startled.

“I warned you,” he said, his voice laced with superiority. He reached to close the partition. “Those activities aren’t for a lady’s eyes.”

The fine hairs on the back of Florence’s neck stood up. How dare he decide what she could and could not see? Her hand darted out to catch his wrist, stopping him from closing the slat. “You said you wouldn’t play the part of a gentleman around me. Don’t change your mind now.”

“Florence,” he said on an exasperated sigh, “there are people fucking in there. Do you really want to see that?”

Yes, she sort of did, actually. “I suppose it’s rude to watch them.”

“Not from their perspective. They want others to watch. If they didn’t, the partition on their side would be closed.”

Oh. “You mean . . .”

“That some people like to perform sexual acts while others observe? Yes, that’s what I mean.”

“Then you are concerned for my delicate sensibilities.”

He paused. In the soft glow from the partition she could see his features, which now appeared etched in granite, as he considered what she was saying. She’d visited casinos, poolrooms, tenements and dives all around this city. Any delicate sensibilities she’d possessed had long disappeared. Furthermore, she didn’t need him to shelter her from the unsafe or unsavory. God knew her parents had tried to do that for the majority of her life—and it hadn’t worked then, either.