SARAH THOUGHT ENOUGH TIME HAD PASSED SINCE Malloy had put her into the Hansom cab. He would have long since been to the mission and gone, so it was now safe for her to go there herself and speak with Mrs. Wells about her plans. If she also happened to learn more about Emilia while she was there, she’d certainly be happy to share that information with Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy.

The girl who opened the door to her had red hair and freckles, and she looked at Sarah suspiciously. News of Emilia’s death would certainly have upset everyone in the house and made them wary. Sarah asked to speak with Mrs. Wells and was admitted and instructed to wait in the parlor.

Mrs. Wells appeared a few minutes later. Her expression was somber, her smile of greeting sad. “Mrs. Brandt,” she said. “How good of you to come. Won’t you sit down?” She directed Sarah to the horsehair sofa and took a seat beside her, her back still rigidly straight, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Like most women, she had been taught to put on a good face in public, no matter what her private pain might be.

“I’m terribly sorry about Emilia,” Sarah said.

“So are we,” Mrs. Wells said. “She had struggled for a long time against the forces of evil. At least we can take comfort that she is at peace now.”

Sarah thought that an odd thing to say about someone so young and healthy as Emilia had been, but she knew her view of life and death was different from Mrs. Wells’s.

“I was surprised,” Mrs. Wells continued, not waiting for Sarah to respond, “that you had been asked to identify Emilia’s body.”

Sarah heard the unspoken question. She wondered how Malloy had explained it to her. “Detective Sergeant Malloy recognized the hat Emilia was wearing as one he’d seen me wear.”

“He must know you very well,” Mrs. Wells observed. “Few men would remember a lady’s hat.”

Sarah wasn’t sure if she heard a note of disapproval in Mrs.