Kate left the pawnshop with a handful of copper change and a single silver shilling rattling in her pocket. It was a start, but not enough. She needed more money, or the means of getting it now that her highwayman lover had ridden his final foray. The few pennies she had earned from pawning the little girl’s clothes would finance the next stage of her plan, but no more.
A landlord with a macabre sense of humour had chosen the name The Last Drop for the closest gin palace to Tyburn. The Drop was a haven for people who enjoyed a vivacious thrill from watching a hanging or mingling with the friends, relatives, and associates of the recently executed. Kate positioned herself at a table near the centre of the room, pulled her dress down to reveal more of her cleavage and lifted her skirt to mi
