A white face is pressed against the glass.

It takes her a moment to recognise the bird-like features of Agnes.

Agnes, come back to help her!

All at once Pearl is on her feet, pushing up the sash. The cool wind that she craved reaches in and strokes her forehead.

Agnes’s small hand clamps on her wrist; even through her glove, it feels cold. ‘Please let me in. Your neighbours will think me a housebreaker if they see me out here.’ She really does look like a desperate woman, with strands of hair escaping from under her wind-blown hat and her papery, fluttering eyelids.

Pearl glances down the street to check no one is abroad and then helps Agnes scramble gracelessly over the sill.

‘I thought you weren’t coming back!’

‘Forgive me, I …’ Agnes’s voice cracks.

‘Why are you so cold?’ she whispers.

Agnes slides the sash closed. ‘I have been walking the streets for hours. Searching …’ She swallows audibly. ‘I have lost something very precious to me.’

Pearl doesn’t know what to say. Her head’s full of her own troubles. She so needs Agnes to be solid and comforting. ‘I’m sorry. But my father’s worse. Much worse. I nearly put these clothes on to come and find you.’

The carpet bag and Cedric’s shirt lie on the floor. Agnes covers her mouth and stifles a sob at the sight of them.

‘What is it?’

Agnes picks the shirt up tenderly. Pressing it to her face, she inhales, as Pearl has often done.

‘Has … has something happened to your nephew?’

‘I cannot find him. He is … Oh, sweet child! So many terrible events have occurred since last we spoke. It does me good to see your face.’

Pearl’s taken aback. She doesn’t know Agnes well enough for her to say these things, but she understands the lady’s scared and grieving too. Mourners come out with some odd sentiments. It’s not their fault, really.

‘I need your help,’ Pearl emphasises. ‘I know we haven’t found the killer yet, and I haven’t got a chance to speak to my mother, but Father’s that sick, I think we just need to—’

Agnes places a finger on her lips. ‘One more. One more séance and you will have your reward.’ Her mouth twists. ‘How naïve we were. Believing we could track down a murderer with the help of ghosts. And what did we get? A few garbled messages and some shadows. Did we really think we were going to challenge the police with that?’

‘We only tried the once,’ Pearl says defensively. ‘And I’m still new to this.’

‘Hush, dear. I am not blaming you. Only myself. I was never strong enough to be trusted with so much, alone.’ She shakes her head. ‘Papa should have known that.’