‘The University has sovereignty here, in case you were not aware.’

The shriek came again, followed by a sob.

‘Dear God, man, have you no empathy? What is happening to that poor woman?’

‘Nothing untoward, you nosy know-nothing. We are protecting the students of the University – from illness, madness, and death! Many whores prowl the town and prey on these innocent young men.’

‘Innocent young men? I’m told that girls are taken in for merely speaking to a student after curfew.’

‘Well, then,’ he sneered, ‘what are the little trollops doing out at those hours?’

I suddenly realized the extent of the danger to Polly when she ran off from Baker Street last night. My chest went tight. ‘How are they released? Is there a bail system?’

‘Not officially. Why?’

‘Well, surely their parents come for them. Or their husbands, brothers, employers? You can’t tell me that none of them are released?’

‘Well, eventually, of course. Under certain circumstances they are released early.’

‘What circumstances?

‘There is a—’ he lowered his voice to a whisper ‘—a private bail system. It is not cheap.’

‘I have means.’

The man paused, then lowered his stick. He moved back behind his desk and sat down, staring up at me thoughtfully.

‘Whom have you come to release? Or did you want to meet a few? Take your pick.’ He smiled. My stomach turned. ‘Want to set one free, then?’ He continued. ‘We do process them for illness, so you’ll be getting a clean one. Tell me you’re her brother, perhaps. Father, maybe even, if she’s a young ’un.’

‘You process them for illness?’

‘Examine every one of ’em. And treat ’em if necessary.’

As a doctor, I did not need to hear more. I knew this was done in London on a regular basis. But here, outside of municipal law? ‘Do you have a young lady named Polly, red hair, about sixteen, brought in last night?’

‘Surname?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You fellows never do.’ The man hesitated. ‘I will have to check.’ He went to a cabinet and ruffled through some files. He pulled out a sheet of paper and turned to me. ‘We have a Polly. She’s a dangerous one. Feisty. Caused some damage, I think. Bail is set at five pounds.’

I paused. There was the chance I would need to bail out Holmes. I had brought a sizeable amount of money with me, as I had learned to do on such adventures. Who knew what Holmes’s bail might be? But this situation demanded action now.

I reached into my pocket to discover the crumpled five-pound note from Freddie Eden-Summers. What better use for it? In five minutes, a dishevelled Polly was freed and stood with me in front of that awful place, pale, and with her hair escaping her braids in copper-coloured strands. A hot breeze blew old newspapers and chip wrappings down the street but did nothing to cool the air.