Eleanor leaned back in her seat. She closed her eyes. She had readied herself for action. Had steeled herself. Now this. The delay was intolerable to her. The cab they followed, the cab that contained her husband, was gone.

The shouts of the men and the frightened snorting of the horse had become distant but they came back now, louder, and she opened her eyes. They were on Victoria Street, which was a longish street stretching from Darlinghurst all the way down to Potts Point. She saw they had stopped directly outside the Jellicoes’ house.

The irony of it made her smile. Made her despair.

The house, a cream-coloured two-storey villa in the Greek Revivalist style popular half a century earlier was fronted by an expanse of lawn, a gravelled drive and tall gates. It was one of a number of such dwellings in this area and Eleanor had swept through the gates on many occasions. She had handed her hat and gloves to the Jellicoes’ curtsying maid. She had stood in the marble-tiled hallway with Alasdair at her side. She had allowed Adaline Jellicoe to come to her across that tiled hallway with a smile and outstretched hands.

The house was shut up and silent now. The gates closed. Though it was entirely possible Adaline or Leon—not both, surely?—were still inside. Overseeing arrangements, writing instructions. Hiding. Yes, thought Eleanor, I would hide. I would shut up the house. I would send the servants away.

Dora Hyatt—the housekeeper! She tried to picture the woman but could conjure up merely a silent presence, plain-featured and ordinary. She shuddered. This betrayal by the servant struck her as worse than that of the husband.

But, no, the house was not entirely shut up, she saw. A figure was visible at an upstairs window and Eleanor pressed herself back in her seat, though it was absurd to imagine anyone could see her, down here in the cab. Or perhaps she was mistaken about the figure in the window, for there was no further movement and it seemed likely now it was only a shadow, a trick of the light. One’s imagination run wild.