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use what he’d learned to his advantage. If you wanted to know which bint had a history of relieving her clients of their valuables or attempting to extort money from their gentlemen callers, Vincent knew. I always vetted my girls with him; he was as good as an employment agency at winnowing the wheat from the chaff.
    Further to his credit, he had his own code of ethics, which was unusual in a boy of the streets: he discharged with alacrity any commission he was given, gave value for the money received, only blackmailed those who deserved it and was as silent and inscrutable as the Sphinx about his activities. Consequently, I trusted him, which was why I was here now.
    “I need a horse and cart,” I said.
    “Tonight?” Vincent tested the blade of the knife with his thumb. “That’ll cost you.”
    I opened my purse and fished out a handful of coins. “Bring it down the alley behind the house. Be quiet about it.”
    “Got the landlord after you, have you?” There was a glint of humour in the boy’s eye. His attention remained fixed on the knife and the piece of wood in his hands. “Doin’ a runner in the middle of the night?”
    “I’ve a parcel to deliver,” I said shortly.
    He glanced up at me, a half smile on his face. “Delivered where? Wapping Stairs? Blackfriars? Or am I to catch the tide?”
    “I’ll want the parcel found,” I said. “But not anywhere near Lotus House. And there must be nothing to connect it with me. Can you do it?”
    “’Course I can. Though I must say I’m surprised at you, India. This ain’t your style. Ain’t your style at all.”
    “I didn’t help him along, Vincent. The old gent died of a heart attack.”
    “That’s a great relief to me, India. My faith in human nature is restored. Why do you want the body found?”
    “There’s a wife.”
    “Ah. It will cost you more if you want me to keep it quiet that India Black’as the milk o’human kindness flowin’ through her veins.”
    I snapped shut my purse. “Cheeky sod. How long will it take you to get the cart?”
    “I’ll’ave to call in a favor,” he said. “Say an hour or two.”
    “I’ll be waiting for you. Knock quietly at the kitchen door. Mrs. Drinkwater will let you in.” I nudged the crust of bread on the floor with my toe. “When did you last eat a proper meal, Vincent?”
    He scratched his head, making a show of thinking. I’d no doubt he knew exactly when he’d consumed his last meal. “What day is it?”
    “Sunday.”
    “Then ’twas Friday mornin’. I stole a bun from the baker’s.”
    I found another coin in my purse and handed it to him. “Get yourself something. You’ve a long night of work ahead of you.”
    “I’m touched, India.”
    “Don’t be. I can’t have you fainting while you’re hauling my body away.”
    He touched his forehead mockingly. “Then I’m at your service. Shall I walk you ’ome?”
    I hesitated, remembering the scrape of boot leather in the alley. But dawn was just a few hours away, and there was no time to lose. “I’ll be careful, Vincent. You go after the cart.”
    Vincent extinguished the bull’s-eye, and we groped our way out of the cellar and up the stairs. I breathed deeply of the night air. Foul as it was, it smelled much better than Vincent’s hiding place, the odor of which had reminded me of the monkey cage at the Regent’s Park Zoo. Outside the church, we parted, with Vincent disappearing quickly into the mist-shrouded darkness on his errand and me turning resolutely toward Lotus House. I chose a different route than I had come, however. The thought of returning through the cramped blackness of the alley, with its silent forms sleeping restlessly in the doorways, did not appeal. My route took me along broader streets, which were better lit, but these thoroughfares were just as devoid of human presence (well, they would be, as in the distance the bells of St. Margaret’s tolled midnight. I legged it home, striding along like a champion