He had been. I could tell by the way he spoke. Proper, like Vincent and Crillick. I was glad that he hadn’t pushed me further on Mrs Bradley. It was too much after the thoughts I’d had about Eustace. It had felt a lot to admit to him that my mother was a slave, but one day I would tell him more about that last time I’d seen her when she had taken me to St Giles. A maid came in now with tea. She set it down on the table that lay between us and withdrew, but not before she cut her eye at me. He thanked her and she bobbed a curtsey at the door. Thank God. There had been a moment when I wondered if she might linger to eavesdrop on our conversation.

‘Last time you left in quite a rush. I wasn’t sure if I’d disturbed you?’

He had, and in more ways than one.

‘I’m late for work again today, so I cannot stay too long.’

‘Tell me why you came here,’ he said.

‘Marcus Crillick has a woman; he calls her the Leopard Lady. He means to display her.’

‘Men, women and children are being displayed all over town. What is so special about this one?’

Is this the question he asked himself before he came to see the Great Amazonia? I wondered. Concentrate, Zillah. How could I explain my moment of connection with the Leopard Lady?

‘I want you to help me put a stop to it.’

He steepled his fingers together and placed them under his chin.

‘You think this woman is in danger?’

‘I am worried for her. She attempted to speak to me, to give me a message, but I could not understand what she wanted.’

‘Do you remember the words she said?’

Of course I did. They were imprinted on my mind.

‘I said to her: Sisi wami kunjani?’

‘You spoke to her in Zulu?’ Lucien said. There was a sense of pleasure in his tone and I felt an answering consciousness bloom on my face.

‘The only words I know are those you addressed to me at the theatre. I thought it might comfort her to hear them.’

‘You claimed her as your sister, Zillah. It would have encouraged her mightily.’

It was what he had tried to do for me. It was more than a mere greeting for him, it always had been, and now I was using it too. Of course, sisi was sister. I should have realised.

‘What did she say in response?’ Lucien asked. When I told him, the smile fell from his lips.

‘Indodana yami? You’re sure that was it?’

The words had haunted me so much I was sure I had them right, but I reached into my pocket for the piece of paper where I’d written them down and read slowly and carefully, ‘Uthathe indodana yami. What does it mean, Lucien?’