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A few things hit me at once. First, Temperance was wearing the same clothes that she’d been wearing that morning. She must have been standing there for hours, waiting for me to step outside. It was a black charwoman’s dress – a smart disguise. No one notices charwomen in a city like London, because there are too many of them. They’re everywhere, all the –

I spluttered in disbelief. ‘You’re the one who was following me yesterday! You were standing on the street, right behind me!’

She scowled. ‘I’ve been trying to find a way to talk to you …’

Everything was coming together now. ‘And you’re the woman in black who’s been hanging around the Gore, too, aren’t you? The one Flora talked about. You were waiting here the other night for your meeting with Miss Decima!’ My mind worked fast. ‘And the veiled suffragette! The one the beggar saw sneaking down here before the murder … That was you, too!’

She stared at me, aghast. ‘You think I killed Watts?’

‘You’ve done a – beg pardon – heck of a lot worse.’

She folded her arms. ‘Okay. Why? Give me a good reason.’

I didn’t have an answer for that.

‘Stunning detective work, Stephen,’ she muttered. ‘Holmes must be shaking in his boots.’

I glowered. ‘You’re not in any position to make jibes. One word to the police, and I could get you hanged.’

‘You think I don’t know that?’ she snapped. ‘Look – if it helps, I have an alibi for Saturday. I was on the other side of London all day, doing work for Miss Decima. That’s … that’s what I need to talk to you about.’

I laughed bitterly. ‘I’m not talking to you about anything!’

I tried to step past her, but she blocked me. ‘Stephen, I know you hate me. I don’t even blame you. But this is important. Ten minutes – that’s all it’ll take.’

I puffed out my chest. ‘You’ve got some nerve. Miss Decima might still trust you, but I don’t. You’re a liar, a cheat and a killer. I don’t want anything to do with you.’ I raised my chin. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I am a tremendously busy man.’

I strolled past with my head held high. She waited until I was at the end of the road before she called after me.

‘If you come,’ she said, ‘I’ll tell you what her secret investigation is.’

36

Tuesday, 20 June, 12.13 p.m.

‘You again,’ the barman smirked. ‘Another shandy, is it?’

‘Just a lemonade,’ I muttered.

I shouldn’t have come back to the Goat. I should have been getting my hat; I should have been looking for Peter. I should have been doing anything other than buying a drink with my own money for the woman who’d tried to murder me, twice.

I carried the drinks over to the snug – women weren’t allowed in the public bar – and sat at a little table opposite Temperance. It felt odd, being back here. There was an atmosphere that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was full, but no one was talking. Everyone was looking at each other. The nearest man whipped his eyes away from me the moment I glanced at him, pretending to read his newspaper. I caught sight of the headlines on the front page. PRESSURE ON GOVERNMENT TO ACT; WSPU MUST END NOW, SAYS CHURCHILL; PARLIAMENT TO RECONVENE ON FRIDAY. It was all happening, just as Mrs Pankhurst had predicted. We were running out of time.

‘Here’s your gin,’ I said, passing it over.

Temperance took it without saying thanks. I quickly calculated in my head how much money I had left, and how long this was going to take. Ten minutes: that’s what Temperance had said. In ten minutes I’d be out of here, in another five minutes I’d be stepping through the doors at Ponting’s …

‘You can relax, you know,’ said Temperance. ‘I’m not going to do anything. I just need to talk to you.’

‘We can talk anywhere,’ I said. ‘I don’t see why we had to do it here. I’d prefer somewhere outside. In public, ideally. With witnesses.’

She shook her head. ‘It has to be here.’

‘Why?’

‘I’ll tell you later.’

I clenched my jaw. Miss Decima was right: she was manipulative. ‘Come on, then. What’s the secret investigation?’