There was a group of twelve chairs arranged around a makeshift stage, just as there had been in Crillick’s library, but much more intimate. He must have exhibited the Leopard Lady in this place. Who on earth to, out here on the docks? I picked up a discarded oil lamp and lit it with some lucifers I found on one of the chairs. The light the lamp gave out was faint but it showed an offcut of rope on the floor, and a piece of paper. I put the lamp down and bent to pick the paper up – but what was this? Two, no three, rust-coloured drops had soaked into the concrete. They could only be blood and my stomach heaved at the thought of what could have happened here. There was a screen to one side. I forced myself to look behind it. A blanket dropped on the floor, a dish of water and straw. Straw! Like she was an animal. And here, a piece of sacking stuffed and sewn shut, with a crude face drawn on. Mrs Bradley had got Eustace to make me something like it, to amuse me when I’d first moved in with them. It was what I had most feared – a clue that, yes, the Leopard Lady’s child was with her, and likely he’d been exhibited too. My hunch that she’d been here was right, but where was she now? Had she been moved? I wondered if Ratface had given me away, let Crillick know someone was on to him. I was too late. I hoped her son was still with her – he must be young if they were trying to comfort him with toys. I picked up the paper but, as I held the light up to it, I heard a noise. There must be a night watchman. I turned down the oil lamp and stood very still, hardly daring to breathe. I’d been lucky but I could not afford to stay here any longer. I stuffed the paper into my coat pocket. It was time to get out of here.