Was that the secret that she must not tell? Cordwainer was perhaps twenty years older than she, and quite clearly he loved her.

There was no time to think of such things. Mrs. Cordwainer had woken up and was full of interest. With very little prompting, she recalled Mary and her mother, and the birth of the baby.

“‘Ard thing it were,” she said sadly, blinking sharp gray eyes. “She weren't the last I seen die, but she were the first, an’ I dint never forget ‘er, poor soul. Just young, she were, for all that the little girl were about five, near as we could tell.” She sighed. “Got ‘er adopted out in a year or so. Nice family as were keen to ‘ave ‘er. Webb, they was called, or something like that. But they couldn't take the babe, couldn't manage a babe. Woman were crippled. We don't like ter split ‘em up, but we got too many mouths ter feed as it were, an’ they really wanted ‘er.”

“What happened to the little boy?” Hester asked softly. She could imagine him, growing up motherless, one of many, cared for but not special to anyone; fed, clothed, possibly even taught, but not loved. It was so desperately easy to see why he had invented a happiness that had never existed.

“Nice little lad, ‘e were,” Mrs. Cordwainer said dreamily. “Curly ‘air, ‘andsome enough, even if ‘e were a bit of a scrapper now an’ then. But that int something I mind in a boy. Bit o’ spirit. Used ter make me laugh, ‘e did. I were young-then. Got away wi’ all sorts, ‘cause ‘e made me laugh. An’ ‘e knew it.”

“What happened to him?” Hester said again.

“I dunno. ‘E stayed ‘ere till ‘e were eight, then we let ‘im go.”

“Where to? Who took him?”

“Took ‘im? Bless you, nobody took ‘im. ‘E were old enough to work for ‘isself I dunno where ‘e went.”

Hester glanced at Scuff, who seemed to understand perfectly. He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. She realized he had almost certainly been more or less alone since he was that age. Perhaps Durban had been a mudlark as well.

“Was Durban his mother's name?” she asked aloud.

“We never knew ‘is mother's name,” the old lady replied. “Can't recall as we ever asked ‘er. We called ‘im Durban after a man from Africa ‘oo gave us money one time. Seemed like a good enough name, an’ ‘e din't mind.”

“Did he ever come back?”

“Went ter Africa again, far as I know.”

“Not the man, the boy?”

“Oh. Not as I can think of. Went to look fer ‘is sister, little Mary, but she'd gone. ‘E did tell us that. Don't know nothin’ else. Sorry. Were all a long time ago.”

“Thank you so much. You've been very helpful,” Hester said sincerely.

Mrs. Cordwainer looked at her, her face puckered. “Wot ‘appened to ‘im then? D'you know?”

“He grew into a fine man,” Hester replied. “Joined the River Police, and died about six months ago, giving his life to save others. I'm looking for Mary Webber, to tell her, and give her his things, if she's his sister. But she's hard to find. He was looking for her before he died, but he never found her.”

Mrs. Cordwainer shook her head, but she said nothing.

They declined a cup of tea, not wishing to put them to trouble, and Mr. Cordwainer escorted them to the door. When they reached it and Scuff and Stella were already outside, he put his hand on Hester's arm and held her back.

“You'll not find Mary,” he said very softly. He looked acutely unhappy. “It's a long story. Carelessness a bit, lonely, wanting to please, and maybe a bit too trusting, but not fault, not really.”

Hester was lost again. “What are you talking about?” She found that she was whispering in turn.

“Mary,” he replied. “She's in prison. My mother kept up with her, for the boy's sake. Then when she got old, I kind of took her place.”

“Which prison is she in?” Hester felt the knot of pain tighten inside her. No wonder Durban had not found her. Or had he? And the end of his search was tragedy? How that must have hurt him. Was that how she was connected to Jericho Phillips? Suddenly she wished with a passion that she had not asked Mrs. Myers, or old Mrs. Cordwainer. It was too late now.

“Holloway,” he replied. He was watching her, seeing the hurt and the disillusion in her face. “She's not a bad woman,” he said gently. “She married a chandler named Fishburn. He was killed when a dray came loose and crushed him. Left her the house, but not much else. She sold it and bought another one miles away, in Deptford. Turned it into a lodging house. Called herself Myers, to get away from Fish-burn's debts. Seems he'd been a bit of a gambler.” He sighed. “One of her lodgers was a thief. She didn't know it, but when he slipped, she got caught with the things he'd taken. She'd kept them against his rent, but the police wouldn't believe that. She got six months for it, and lost the house, of course.”

“I'm sorry.” She meant it. “What'll happen to her when she gets out?”

The sadness in his expression answered her.

“Maybe I can find a job for her,” she said before thinking what it would involve. She might not like her. She had only Cordwainer's word that she was not really a thief or a receiver.

He smiled, and nodded slowly.

Stella and Scuff were waiting. She thanked Cordwainer again, and followed after them.

Back in the hospital she thanked Stella, who looked at her anxiously, and reminded her of her promise. Hester assured her that she had not forgotten, and took her leave.

But as she approached the main door out she encountered Mrs. Myers again. She hoped profoundly that she was not going to have to lie to her, but she was perfectly prepared to if necessary. She had given Stella her word not to disclose anything of her romance. However, she had been gone so long she could not pretend not to have seen old Mrs. Cordwainer. She was also acutely aware of Scuff at her elbow, and his opinion of her honesty, which she found mattered to her even more than she had expected it would.

Mrs. Myers smiled. “Did Stella take you to see old Mrs. Cordwainer after all?” she asked.

“I prevailed upon her,” Hester replied, thinking how she could word her reply so that it would sound as if the old lady had given her all the information, and not even suggest that Mr. Cordwainer had been present at all. Nothing clever came to her. She was left with simply lying. It would have been so much easier had Scuff not been there.

Mrs. Myers nodded. “I don't imagine it was difficult.”

Hester said nothing. It was more uncomfortable than she had expected.

“Was she able to help?” Mrs. Myers asked.

Another lie. But it was either that, or admit that he had been there. The lie was the better of the two evils. “Yes, thank you. I now have a better idea at last where to look.”

“I don't mind, you know,” Mrs. Myers said gently.

“I beg your pardon?” Now Hester was at a loss and knew she must look foolish.

“I think John Cordwainer is a very decent man, and exactly right for Stella,” Mrs. Myers said frankly. “I just wish she would stop assuming I disapprove, and accept him. She is quite old enough not to mind what I think. She owes me no more than to make the very best of her life.”

Hester felt a great weight slip from her, and found herself smiling idiotically. “Really?” she said with feigned innocence, as if she had no idea what they were talking about.

“Your smile gives you away,” Mrs. Myers said drily. “But I am glad you kept your word. Although if you hadn't, it would make it easier for me to broach the subject. How on earth do I say something, without letting her know I have intruded on her privacy?”

Hester thanked her again for her help, and went down the steps, smiling even more widely.

Of course it was not so easy to gain admittance to Holloway Prison, or permission to see any particular person held there. Her first instinct was to ask Monk to obtain it for her, then she bit the words back and grasped for something else to say. Her whole purpose was to protect him.