I walked to the top of the stairs that led down into the Odditorium. Grace was staring after me, twisting her hands together in her apron. She hadn’t run for help yet, but I knew she would. She had to, if she was to keep her job. I didn’t blame her, but that meant there was not much time. I lifted my chin for courage and moved forward.

Each step down the curved stairway was an effort. When the light from the open door behind me faded, I realised I could still see my way. There were more gas lamps, and these had red shades. They threw out a pinkish light and I clung on to the metal handrail as I descended ever further. The sound of my footsteps was swallowed by the carpet and I braced myself to hear the cries of Crillick’s prisoners.

The bottom of the stairs was like an anteroom, long and low. If I stood on tiptoe and raised my hand, I’d be able to touch the ceiling. There was little furniture, but I did see a stand to hang hats and store umbrellas. Did someone wait here to greet the men when they came, to take their outer garments? A bar had been built and on the counter top was a silver filigree tray arranged with whisky glasses. Twelve of them. I could imagine Crillick handing them out. ‘A snifter to get the evening started.’

I needed to get a move on. The Peelers would have arrived at Crillick’s to break up the fight; they might even have arrested him, but there were no guarantees, and if he did return home, I couldn’t have him catch me here. In any case, Elvira must come along with her carriage soon. I wanted Crillick’s prisoners to be ready to go as soon as she arrived. There’d be no point in helping them escape the Odditorium if we couldn’t get them out of Westminster. There was a door ahead of me. I took a deep breath and pulled it open.