It was good enough. Mina finished her beer, left the glass on the bar, and pushed her way out of the pub.
A short ways down Cable Street, she heard footsteps behind her. She knew it was probably Stephen, but she took a step away anyhow as she turned to face the new arrival, and she kept a tight hold on her purse. You never knew.
“It’s only me,” said Stephen, appearing out of the fog and once again confirming what Mina had told him. Wet-haired and dressed in his plainest, oldest clothes, he still didn’t fit in. He carried himself wrong: shoulders too straight and frame too easy at the same time.
Then again, Mina didn’t think she’d ever seen Stephen in a place where hedidblend, just as she’d never seen him in clothing that didn’t look like a costume.
Perhaps he looked most natural in his…natural state.
Perhaps she had no call to start wondering about that.
Still, she took the arm that he offered and let herself be glad of the closeness and warmth of his large body.
“You’ve got no gloves,” said Stephen, looking down.
“Too new,” Mina said. “We’re looking for Hunter Street. Thirty-nine.” She shut her eyes for a second, calling geography to mind. “It’s not too near, but a hansom should be able to get us there quick enough.”
“Ah—” Stephen began.
It had been a long evening already, and was going to be a longer one from the look of it. Mina had no patience for chivalry. “I suppose you can drop me back at your house first,” she said, being even more careful than usual with herh’s as she spoke, “but I’d have thought you’d want to go as quick as you can. Before people start asking any questions. And I think two are probably better than one unless he’s got a job lot of men there, honestly, but you’re in charge.”
“Oh, am I now?”
“You’ve got the money, anyway.”
“Ah, well,” Stephen said and passed a gloved hand over his mouth. “That’s actually what I’d been coming around to telling you. The situation changed a bit while you were in the pub.”
Mina looked from his hair—damper than the fog would explain, now that she was close to him—to the embarrassed look on his face. She tried not to grin. “Lose your wallet?”
“Aye.”
“About twelve, was she? Big eyes, a bit tearful? Lost her mum in the dark?”
“Her grandmother,” Stephen said and cast a baleful glance behind him. “Fast wee thing she was, too. Her and her friends.”
“It helps to know the streets,” said Mina. She patted Stephen’s arm, the fabric of his coat soft and thick beneath her gloveless hand. “Don’t feel bad. You’re hardly the first, and I can probably get us a cab.”
Sixteen
Thirty-nine Hunter Street was a squat and unwelcoming place: sturdy, square brick walls, white shutters, and the general impression of dour respectability. The woman who answered the door was as dour as the house itself, and gave Stephen and Mina a squinting, suspicious look.
“We only rentsinglerooms here,” she began, a prune-like cast to her mouth, and added, “sir,” as if it was more of an insult.
“I’m not here to rent,” said Stephen. He tried to ignore the implication, but it did make him more aware of Mina’s presence at his side. She’d turned toward him slightly, probably to put him between her and the wind. He wanted to put an arm around her and hold her against his chest—his people’s abnormal warmth should servesomepurpose—but this wasn’t the time or the place. He wasn’t sure either one existed. “I’m inquiring after one of your lodgers. A Mister Smith.”
“What’s your business with him?”
“It’s a private matter. He does stay here?”
“He might,” said the landlady, “and then he might not. It’s a bit late to be paying a call.”
“I’m not here for social reasons,” Stephen began.
Then Mina put her hand on his arm. “It’s all right,” she said, when Stephen peered down at her. “I’ll tell her.”
“Tell me what?” asked the landlady, thrusting her chin forward.
As Stephen tried not tolookas if he’d no idea what was going on, Mina looked down at her feet, gulped, and then looked back up into the landlady’s eyes. “He’s my brother. He’s…he’s in trouble”—her voice fell, implying all sorts of elements to thetroublethat no decent girl would say aloud—“and…well, I don’t want to go up there myself. He’d never forgive me if I saw—”
