‘You can ’ave as many of ’em as you like for that,’ the boy said.

The dish was brimful with dark syrupy liquid. I picked it up with both hands and took a swig, determined to get my money’s worth. Disgusting. It reminded me of nothing so much as drinking soot. Maybe coffee was like cigars – something you had to force yourself to appreciate. They said it helped to clear your mind and free your thoughts. All well and good, but I’d had enough of thinking for the time being. I realised I was drumming my fingers on the table and put my hands in my lap instead. Any woman would feel nervous to meet Black Bill on his home turf but there was no need to advertise it.

Black Bill appeared after half an hour, entering by a set of stairs behind the counter. He must have rooms here above the shop. I saw him look around and take in who was there before his glance fell on me and he strode over. He took up a seat opposite me, looking nothing like the larger-than-life villain they painted in the papers. It was hard to imagine that the man before me wielded so much power, but I knew from bitter experience that he did.

I took Bill’s lateness as a subtle show of that power, but his expression when he sat down was businesslike. He didn’t look like a man who had come to play games. The boy who’d served me brought over a glass of water, the surface shimmering slightly as his hands shook.

‘Where’s your handsome friend today?’

‘I thought it best if we were alone,’ I said.

‘Scared I’d say something about your Viscount?’

Of course he knew about Vincent. After I’d left the pub last night, he’d probably asked around. I doubted there was anyone known to him, as I had been through Eustace, that he didn’t keep track of in one way or another. I sat forward in my chair.

‘Have you found her? Or the child?’

‘I haven’t seen them, but I know where your Odditorium is.’

‘Close by?’

‘Here in Westminster.’

As close as that! Bill’s hand disappeared into the inside pocket of his coat. For a second, I held my breath, wondering what it was he kept in there, but when he withdrew it there was no weapon, only a scrap of grubby paper between his fingers.

‘The address is written on here.’

I made to take the notelet from him, but he wouldn’t let it go.

‘There’ll be no charge for the information. You know I’ve always had a soft spot for you and the Bradleys. Even though your little friend was careless, I could find a use for you? I imagine you’d be quite a good spy now you’re used to mixing with the aristocracy.’