She drew back involuntarily, glancing round to see if any of her colleagues were still within earshot in case she needed to call for help. ‘Yes. What do you want?’

The older of the two took off his cap. ‘My name’s Arthur White, miss, but everyone calls me Snowy. This here is Mick MacGregor. We were shipmates of your brother’s.’

‘Oh!’ May caught her breath in relief. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you. I haven’t seen Gus for weeks.’ She looked from one face to the other. ‘Is he all right?’

They exchanged glances. ‘That’s the thing, you see,’ Snowy said. ‘He’s got himself in a bit of trouble.’

‘Trouble? Where is he?’

‘In the Bridewell.’

‘The Bridewell? You mean in prison?’

‘Yes, that’s about the size of it.’

‘But why? What has he done?’

‘Drunk and disorderly. That’s the charge.’

The younger man spoke. ‘He got into a fight over a street girl.’

‘A street girl? You mean a … a prostitute? What would he have to do with a woman like that?’

‘Thought she was being pestered by some gent, it seems. He was a customer, like, but Gus took exception for some reason.’

‘I must talk to him! Will they let me see him, do you think?’

‘Might do. Do you want us to show you the way?’ Snowy offered.

‘Yes, yes, please. I can’t believe he’s done anything wrong. There must be a mistake.

‘No mistake, miss, I’m afraid. But it’ll be best if he tells you himself. It’s this way.’

The Bridewell prison in Campbell Street was a forbidding structure of soot-blackened bricks dominated by a tall chimney. Snowy led May into a small office on the ground floor and explained what she had come for.

The officer behind the desk looked at her disapprovingly. ‘Nice young woman like you shouldn’t be in a place like this. Don’t know what you want with a reprobate like Lavender.’

‘He is my brother,’ May said, her voice trembling. ‘Please, sir, let me see him.’

A turnkey led her along a narrow passageway and unlocked a heavy oak door. ‘Lady here claims to be your sister.’ He turned to May. ‘You’ve got ten minutes.’

Gus was slumped on a narrow bench. His face was pale and there was a smell of vomit in the air. He looked up. ‘What are you doing here? Who told you where I was?’

‘Your friends, Snowy and Mick. They came to find me. Oh, Gus, what have you been doing? How did you get into this state?’

‘It doesn’t matter. You don’t want to know. Go away and leave me to it.’

‘No! I want to help. What can I do?’

‘Nothing.’

‘What will happen to you?’

‘Up before the beak at the next assizes. I’ll probably get two weeks’ hard labour – more maybe.’