Monk was about to thank him when there was a light rap on the door.

“Come!” Ravensbrook said with surprise.

The door opened and a woman of extraordinary presence entered. She was of little more than average height, though her bearing made her seem taller.

But it was her face which commanded Monk's attention. She had high, wide cheekbones, a short, jutting aquiline nose and a wide, beautifully shaped mouth. She was not traditionally lovely, yet the longer he looked at her, the more she pleased him, because of the balance and honesty in her. She was every bit as candid as Genevieve, and more commanding. It was the face of a woman born to power.

Ravensbrook lifted his hand very slightly.

“My dear, this is Mr. Monk, whom Genevieve has engaged to help us find out-what has happened to poor Angus.” From the way he touched her and his expression as he regarded her, it was unnecessary to announce her identity.

“How do you do, Lady Ravensbrook.” Monk bowed very slightly. It was not something he normally did, but it came to him without thought when he spoke to her.

“I am very glad.” She regarded Monk with interest. “It is time something was done. I should like to think otherwise, but I know Caleb may be at the root of it. I am sorry, Mr. Monk, we have asked of you a most unpleasant task. Caleb is a violent man, and will not welcome any attention from the police, or any other authority. And as you may already be aware, there is also a serious outbreak of typhoid fever in the south area of Limehouse at the moment. We are most grateful that you should have accepted the case.”