Miss West smirks at him. They have not been feeding her well. She looks angular and raw-boned. ‘Guess I might as well, eh? In for a penny, in for a pound. Seems better to hang for five bodies instead of two.’

‘Confession is not about—’ Simon begins.

‘I always wanted to be in the papers,’ she interrupts. ‘If they’re going to put me down as a killer, it should be a notorious one with loads of victims. What will they call me, d’you think?’ She mimics an aristocratic drawl. ‘The Mesmerising Murderess. I’d like that.’

Finally, Agnes finds her voice. ‘They will not credit you with any powers whatsoever. You could not mesmerise the guards into releasing you, could you?’

The pert expression is slapped from Miss West’s face.

‘Make sure to keep a civil tongue in your mouth,’ the turnkey barks to the prisoner. ‘I’ll be watching you from over there.’

Keys chinking, she moves to a corner of the room. Her unflinching gaze swoops between the criminals, taking everything in. Those beady eyes have the authority here, not Miss West’s. The prisoner must sense this, for the air around her sours.

‘I wanted to talk to Miss Darken alone,’ she gripes.

Simon straightens his posture. ‘You are fortunate that Miss Darken condescended to visit you at all. Her health—’

Agnes lays a hand upon his arm. She needs Simon to remain nearby, but perhaps Miss West would come to the point sooner with him at a distance. Pearl always stressed how her sister hated medical men; much of this performance may be for his benefit.

‘Be so kind as to fetch me a glass of water, Simon. It is very close in here,’ she says, pressing his arm and giving him a meaningful look.

The floor shrieks as he pushes his chair back. ‘I will ask the turnkey,’ he says, eyeing Miss West. ‘I will not let either of you out of my sight.’

Miss West gives him a sardonic smile.

As Simon paces out of earshot, Agnes feels her hatred bubbling up. There is no longer a need to appear ladylike and restrained.

She rounds on Miss West. ‘How could you? What manner of depraved, filthy vermin are you? Pearl was a child. Not a freak or a doll for you to play with. A child. Your mother would curse your name.’

The prisoner’s chin juts out. ‘You don’t know what that girl cost me,’ she says huskily. ‘She …’ With an effort, she masters herself. ‘She wasn’t so bleedin’ innocent. And she killed my mother. Killed her own father with a knife, too, before she ran away!’

Agnes rolls her eyes. ‘More lies. You have good reason to believe me credulous, but it will not wash now. Come to the point. Why did you wish to see me?’