Kate shook her head. ‘He pleaded guilty. I don’t know why.’

‘Oh, no.’ Jenny’s eyes widened. ‘Does that mean he’ll go to prison?’

‘The judge gave him twelve years.’

‘I am sorry, miss. I mean, I know he’s a villain, but he’s a nice man. He always had a cheery word for me and the others. Annie thinks the world of him – she’ll be so upset.’

‘Don’t take off your bonnet, Jenny.’ Kate folded the letter and placed it back in her reticule. ‘You and I are going to get a cab to Walthamstow.’

‘That’s across the River Lea and over the marsh. Might I ask why, miss?’

‘Harry thinks his mother and Annie will be safer living out of town, but I want to take a look at the house before I try to persuade either of them to make the move.’

‘Surely the Monks gang will cease hostilities now that Harry Trader is out of the way.’

‘He doesn’t seem to think so, and who am I to argue? I know virtually nothing about how the gang laws work, and I don’t want to find out. Look what they did to Spears.’

‘I don’t like him, but I feel quite sorry for him now.’

‘Spears is old enough to look after himself. It’s Ivy and the children I worry about.’ Kate stood up and reached for her bonnet. ‘Let’s do something positive. I can’t bear standing around doing nothing.’

‘Shall I ask Henry to have the carriage brought round, miss?’

‘No. I think we’ll take a cab. I don’t want my mother asking questions. She wouldn’t understand. I doubt if we’ll be there for long and I’ll pay the cabby to wait for us.’

Warren House was situated at the end of a country lane on the edge of Epping Forest, with open fields leading down to the marsh. The house itself was hidden behind a high red-brick wall with tall wrought-iron gates and a curved carriage sweep.

Kate paid the cabby, securing his promise to wait for them outside with a generous tip.

‘I ain’t got all day, miss,’ he said grumpily.

‘We’ll be as quick as we can, and there’s a bonus for you if it takes longer than an hour.’ Kate opened a narrow side gate, lifting her skirts to avoid snagging her lace-trimmed petticoat on a creeping shoot from a bramble. She marched up the overgrown carriage sweep with Jenny close on her heels.

‘It looks spooky,’ Jenny said in a stage whisper.

They came to a halt in front of the red-brick façade. The whole house seemed to be losing its battle with the ivy that clambered up towards the roof, wrapping its tendrils around the windows as if trying to gain access to the interior.