But Mrs Winters had once again reverted to weeping and rocking. He shook her harder, but she only wept more and babbled her sermon.

‘Jack …’ said Akiko, gently pulling him away. ‘That’s enough. You’re going to hurt her.’

Jack let the old woman go. He realized she was little more than an empty shell, her mind having long departed. In a daze himself, Jack allowed Akiko and his friends to guide him out of the asylum. He felt almost as deranged as some of Bedlam’s patients. Having got so very close to discovering Jess’s whereabouts, yet unable to unlock Mrs Winters’ madness, he wanted to bang his own head against a post.

13: Silver Locket

The next morning Jack lay on the sagging bed in a grimy room at the Bunch of Grapes, turning the silver locket over in his hand. He examined the intricate flower engraved on the front, then peered at the smooth polished surface of the back. He opened the locket and ran his finger over the soft blue cloth lining of the lid. Holding the locket up to the light, he studied the portrait of his little sister, who was no longer the little girl he’d last seen. Over the course of seven years she had changed so much. He remembered Jess as a slight girl with a button nose, wide eyes and a mischievous grin. Now she looked so grown up, so elegant, so beautiful.

‘Do you really think the locket can lead us to Jess?’ asked Yori, who sat in the corner of the room, his legs crossed in a lotus position.

Jack weighed the locket in his hand. ‘It’s the only thing we have to go on.’ He propped himself up on the bed. ‘Judging by how old Jess looks, the portrait was painted recently, within the last year. And I’m pretty certain my mother, God rest her soul, didn’t own anything this fancy. Which means this locket must be a gift.’

‘From whom?’

Jack shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. But whoever it is, he has to be rich. The locket’s solid silver! And the portrait is expertly done. Only a master painter could’ve produced such fine work.’

‘May I have a look?’ asked Yori, holding out his hand.

Jack passed him the locket. Yori admired the engraving, then closely examined the miniature portrait inside.

‘What’s this?’ he asked, pointing to two tiny marks along the bottom edge.

Leaning over Yori’s shoulder, Jack squinted at the painting. ‘I think it says … N … H …’

Yori frowned. ‘The artist’s initials?’

The bedroom door opened and Akiko entered. Her straight black hair was glistening, still wet from her bath. ‘I’ve never bathed in such brown water!’ she complained. ‘How do you English ever get clean?’