Mrs. Chubb laughed. “You sound like Pansy. What on earth has that poor Mr. Mortimer done to frighten you so?”

“Frightened?” Gertie made a guttural sound of disgust in her throat. “Who said anything about being frightened? We just can’t be too careful with strangers, that’s all. We never know who they are, do we. Could be that serial killer what’s running around London murdering young girls. You just never know these days.”

Mrs. Chubb’s grin vanished. “Hush, Gertie. Don’t say such things. You’ll be frightening the maids, and I have enough trouble with them as it is.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Gertie marched across to the door. Just as she reached it, it flew open, and a skinny young man burst into the kitchen, narrowly missing the loaded tray in Gertie’s hands.

Shaken, Gertie glared at him. “Blimey, Samuel! What’s your bleeding hurry?”

Ignoring her, Samuel looked at Mrs. Chubb. “I just came from Ellie’s house,” he said, sounding out of breath.

Mrs. Chubb hurried toward him. “Is she all right? She’s not ill, is she?”

Samuel shook his head. “We don’t know. She never came home last night. Her mum says she hasn’t seen Ellie since yesterday morning. Her brother’s out looking for her now.”

The housekeeper gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, my, I wonder where she went.”

Remembering Clive’s stricken face when he told her Charlie had died, Gertie felt her stomach start to churn. The tray felt heavy in her hands and she set it down on a chair by the door. “Oh, gawd,” she whispered, “you don’t think something bad has happened to her as well, do you?”

“Of course not.” Mrs. Chubb sounded cross, though her face was creased in worry. “She’s probably just gone somewhere and didn’t tell her mother. These young girls nowadays can be so thoughtless.”

Gertie felt sick. “Where would she go without telling someone?”

“I don’t know. But it’s not for us to say, anyway.” Mrs. Chubb turned to Samuel. “Have you told madam yet?”