Chapter Five
London’s Lowest
“But where can Dr. Valentine be keeping these girls captive?” I asked. Edward and I sat in the hansom cab as the horse trotted through the dark streets, sparsely lit by widely separated gas lamp posts along London’s unsavory district. The driver glanced left and right, swiveling his eyes, not wanting to turn his head and reveal his fear to the men lounging against the grim buildings with their coat collars turned up and their caps or derby hats pulled low to conceal their faces from the passing police Bobby. They lounged against the gritty, soot-shadowed brick walls, or crouched in dark doorways waiting for a careless gentleman to pass by with his bulging purse.
The wheels of our carriage clattered over the dusky-red cobblestones, jarring us as we talked.
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