My name, in those days, was Susan Trinder. Now those days all came to an end.

The police took every one of us, save Dainty. They took us, and kept us in gaol while they tore up the Lant Street kitchen, looking for clues, for stashes of money and poke. They kept us in separate cells, and every day they came and asked the same set of questions.

What was the murdered man, to you?

I said he was a friend of Mrs Sucksbys.

Been long, at Lant Street?

I said I was born there.

What did you see, on the night of the crime?

Here, however, I always stumbled. Sometimes it seemed to me that I had seen Maud take up the knife; sometimes I even seemed to remember seeing her use it. I know I saw her touch the table-top, I know I saw the glitter of the blade. I know she stepped away as Gentleman started to stagger. But Mrs Sucksby had been there,

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