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I had just stepped into my own quarters when Mrs. Peddar appeared.

“The young lady is awake, sir, and would like to see you, if that’s convenient.”

Her tone hinted that she was unaware of what had transpired at No. 64. Atkins had mentioned his struggle to find a constable, but it seemed he hadn’t shared the details of his errand along the way. The news of Edwin Lawrence’s fate hadn’t spread yet, and I had no intention of being the first to tell Mrs. Peddar.

“How is she?” I inquired.

“She seems physically well, sir, rested and looking better than before. But there’s something not right in her mind, I’m sure of it.”

“Have you learned anything about her, like her name?”

“Not a word, sir. Her linen is marked ‘E.M.’ I checked while she was in bed. There’s a purse in her pocket with eighteen shillings, but no cards or identification. I thought perhaps Dr. Hume could help. He’s quite clever and might figure out what’s troubling her.”

I turned away, not wanting Mrs. Peddar to see my reaction to Hume’s name. The thought of him taking advantage of this vulnerable girl in the name of science angered me.

“We won’t call for Dr. Hume just yet, Mrs. Peddar.”

“Very well, sir. I’m usually skeptical of doctors; it’s often about their bill, not your well-being. But the young lady’s situation is peculiar, and Dr. Hume is reputed to be clever, so I thought I’d mention it.”

“Your concern is appreciated, Mrs. Peddar. Please let her know I’ll be there after I’m done dressing.”

When I entered Mrs. Peddar’s rooms, the girl stood by the window. Her beauty caught me off guard, filling me with a strange excitement. Her smile, radiant as ever, was a defining feature. She reached out both hands in greeting.

“So you finally made it. I was beginning to think you’d never show up.”

“I got held up, or I would’ve been here sooner. Did you sleep well? Mrs. Peddar said her bed was comfortable.”

“Sleep? I feel like I’ve slept away all my worries. But you know, something feels off from last night.”

“What do you think happened?”

“That’s the thing—I don’t know. It’s like there’s a blank spot in my head. Makes me feel kind of dumb.”

“Can’t remember your name?”

“Nope. I don’t think I even have one. But everyone’s got a name, right? Or do they?”

“That’s pretty standard. Not knowing your name, where you’re from, or who your friends are can be uncomfortable.”

“Does it make me seem dumb?” She looked at me, searching for reassurance like a confused kid. “I remember people shouting, clapping their hands. But then everything’s fuzzy.”

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“Where were you when they shouted?”

“I don’t know. It’s in my head somewhere, but I can’t find it.”

“Do you remember anything before you came here?”

“I remember coming through your window. But that’s it. It’s like everything started there.”

I pulled out a pair of white gloves.

“Are these yours?”

She examined them skeptically. “I don’t know. Where did you find them?”

“I found them in a room nearby.”

“You should know if they’re mine.”

“I guess so. Try them on.”

She did, and they fit perfectly. “They seem like mine. Don’t you think so?”

“I’m pretty sure they’re yours.”

I looked away, feeling a sudden heaviness in my chest.

“Why are you turning away? Did I do something wrong? Are these gloves mine?”

I deflected with another question. “Do you know someone named Lawrence?”

“Lawrence? I can’t recall. Is it a woman’s name?”

“No, it’s a man’s name. Edwin Lawrence.”

“Why are you asking? Do you know him?”

“I do, and so do you.”

“I do? How would you know?”

“Because last night, you came from his room to mine.”

I watched for any sign of recognition or guilt in her face, but she remained calm, as if she were simply curious about my line of questioning.

“I came from his room to yours? Why would I be in his room?”

“Think! Try to remember! Something must have happened in Edwin Lawrence’s room that made you rush through his window to find safety anywhere.”

“I came from his room to yours? How did I get here?”

“Through the balcony. You must have hurried through his window to mine. Maybe mine was the first open window you found.”

“His room is in this house?”

“Of course, it’s on the same floor as mine.”

“Then take me there—now! Seeing the room and Edwin Lawrence might jog my memory.”

“Take you to see Edwin Lawrence?”

“Yes, why not?”

“Why shouldn’t I? You know why!”

I grabbed her wrist firmly, causing her to cry out in pain. I released her, feeling ashamed. She looked at me, puzzled.

“Why did you grab me like that? You hurt me.”

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You shouldn’t play games with me.”

“I wasn’t playing games. I just asked you to show me this room and Edwin Lawrence. That’s all.”

“Yes, that’s all.”

“Why are you looking at me like that? You’re scaring me. I thought we were friends.”

“How can I be your friend if you won’t trust me?”

“Don’t I trust you? I thought I did.”

She sounded so innocent, yet there was something complex about her. I had so much to say, things that needed to be said eventually. How could I explain them to her? Was she naturally confused? It didn’t seem likely. Her face showed intelligence. What was causing this mental fog? As I hesitated, she pulled up her sleeve, revealing the marks from my grip on her wrist.

“Look at what you’ve done to me.”

I was taken aback; I hadn’t realized I had been so forceful.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m just feeling impatient this morning; things have been difficult.”

“What things? Am I one of them? I’m so sorry—please forgive me! I want us to be friends, more than friends. I’m all alone.”

“I understand; I do see that.”

The sincerity in her eyes as she looked at me stirred something within me. I felt words rushing to my lips, but before I could speak, Mrs. Peddar interrupted.

“Mr. Ferguson, can I speak to you for a minute, please?”

I went to her immediately. It was clear she knew about what had happened.

“You’ve heard about Mr. Lawrence?”

“I have.”

“It seems it happened just before the young lady came to your room.”

“That seems to be the case.”

“What should we do?”

“For now, nothing. We’ll deal with it as it comes.”

“Do you think she knows?”

“Not yet, I’m sure.”

Mrs. Peddar leaned in, speaking quietly. She looked visibly shaken.

“Do you think she’s responsible?”

“Mrs. Peddar! We haven’t figured it out yet. But I’ll look into it, and so will others. But I am certain she had no part in this; she’s innocent, as innocent as you or I. She’s suffered, but she’s not to blame.”

“I hope so, I believe so.”

“You’re right to hope. One thing you can do—keep this quiet. Don’t tell everyone about her visit, especially how she got here.”

“I wish she never came. I’m starting to regret taking her in.”

“Don’t say that. You’ll see that taking her in was the right thing, sheltering her from something unspeakable.”

Mrs. Peddar sighed. “Poor thing! I worry about what might happen to her and to us all.”