While I’d shared the story of what happened to Eustace, we’d reached the top of Chancery Lane, crossed over High Holborn and on to Red Lion Street. In fifteen minutes more we’d be at Barky’s. I’d expected him to say more in response to my confidence, but we walked along in silence. You shouldn’t have mentioned Eustace. But Lucien wasn’t simple. He’d know I had a past. Not that there was any chance I’d tell him about Vincent, though. A first love was one thing but I doubted he’d want to hear that until last Friday I’d been mistress to a viscount.

We were outside Barky’s neat little home now. There was no light shining from his windows on the first floor. If he’d made it back after work, he’d gone out again and probably wouldn’t return until the morning. I unwound the scarf Lucien had lent me. Please don’t take it back. It would be a bad sign if he did, but no he let me keep it. It meant I’d definitely be seeing him again. He was wealthy but not enough to give away cashmere.

‘Thank you for tonight, Lucien.’

‘You’re welcome. I feel we made good progress.’

I hoped there was a double meaning to his words. Progress in our search for the Leopard Lady and progress with whatever it was between us.

‘Will you be coming to Hussmann’s with me tomorrow?’

Much better to meet Bill on my own, so I was relieved when he shook his head and gave me the directions. ‘I will come and meet you there when I’ve finished at the shop. We close at five on Tuesdays.’

‘I’d like that,’ I said.

It was a moment where something might have happened, but I was wary of lingering too long outside the house after the warning Barky had given me. Even with Lucien clearly being quality, his brown skin made him a mark as much as myself. I scrabbled for the key that Barky had left out for me under a clay flowerpot.

‘Goodnight, Lucien.’

‘Ngewor e bi mahungbea,’ he said. Take care.

Overcome with weariness, I wasn’t careful enough as I stepped through Barky’s door and knocked into a low table. The china bowl it held wobbled furiously.

‘Shh,’ I commanded, as though it wasn’t me that had done it.

In the room that served as kitchen and living room there was a plate with a cloth over it. Cold ham. Barky must have left it for me. I wolfed it down, famished.

‘Is that you, Zillah?’

I hadn’t spotted Barky hunkered down in the easy chair where I’d made my bed for the last two nights.