It was Crillick’s voice. There was a distinctive way he lingered over the double ‘l’ in my name, like he was tasting it. But where was it coming from? I spun round, the scalpel still gripped in my hand.

‘Did you enjoy the performance this evening? I especially wanted you to like it.’

Crillick rose from the window seat where three hours earlier I had stood to watch him reveal the Leopard Lady. I’d been in the library for ten minutes at least. He must have watched me all this time. His cravat was loosened, he’d pulled out his shirt tails and, as he weaved towards me, I saw his eyes were glossy with drink. I could slice him, dig the blade in, twist it, watch him bleed. The rush of thoughts, the violence of them, scared me and I let the scalpel fall.

‘She cannot write, if it’s an autograph you came for.’

I pulled Vincent’s dressing gown close around me, and crossed my arms against my chest. Grace should be here any moment. Until then, I’d have to play for time. Please God she wouldn’t come along, hear his voice and walk away.

‘I doubt you know what she can and cannot do.’

‘On the contrary, I assure you, I know exactly what she can do.’

He leered as he said it and I tasted the bitterness of bile at the back of my throat. It was not enough that he exhibited her onstage; I suppose I should have guessed that he’d defiled her in that way too. I couldn’t leave her to his mercy. Somehow, I would have to get her away from him. He moved towards me and I stepped back to keep the distance between us, but now he stood directly between me and the library door.

Crillick put on the showman’s voice that so grated on me earlier. ‘She can sing, she can dance.’ He reverted to his usual tone. ‘You should look to yourself, Zillah. You might lose your job.’

I often told myself that Crillick and Vincent were not alike, but perhaps they were more similar than I wanted to imagine. Both assumed that I was jealous or territorial about my role at the theatre, but this wasn’t about me.

‘She can feel too, or do you choose to ignore that?’

‘I was warned the ladies might be tiresome, and so it has proved.’

Crillick spoke more to himself than to me. Was this my chance to leave? He would be able to cover any move I made towards the door, but he was drunk so maybe that would slow him down.

‘Miss Masterson is right. You treat her like an animal.’

‘Perhaps, but others won’t be so squeamish. You saw them. They want to touch, to poke, to prod. Weren’t you fascinated too?’