"Perhaps she left London altogether," I said.

"Maybe so, maybe so. But Mr. Thompson, here, he read my report over in Wapping and came to see me. Seems he's heard of one or two game girls a'disappearing from his part of London as well."

Thompson broke in. "Two girls-neither knew each other as far as I can tell. One turned up in the river. She was with child, and so she might have done away with herself. The other was from Wapping. Lived with a sailor there when he was in port. He reported her missing after he'd gone to her usual haunts and heard from her friends that she hadn't been seen. She went to Covent Garden one night, to meet a chap, he claimed, and never returned. Her friends thought that perhaps she'd taken up with this fellow and become his ladybird, but they've not heard from her or seen her, and now they're worried as well."

"None of these occurrences may mean something wrong," I said. On the other hand, Thompson, a careful man and not likely to chase shadows, had thought enough of it to come to Bow Street and speak to Pomeroy. "The girls could have gone to work in bawdy houses, although if they had protectors concerned enough to report them missing, I think it unlikely they did." I looked at Thompson. "What is your theory?"

He shook his head. "No theories yet, Captain. Or rather, too many. The girls might be dead, by their hand or another's, they might be held against their will, they might have found new gents to take care of them, they might have returned to their mothers or fathers, they might have reformed and joined a crusade against prostitution. They might have done any number of things."

He was right-too many possibilities as yet. I looked from Thompson to Pomeroy, both of whom watched me intently. "What are you asking of me?"

"Well," Pomeroy said, "the girls I arrest and bring in here speak highly of you. Quite the gentleman, they think you. I told Thompson that if anyone could pry secrets from the game girls, it was my captain."