“She was very grateful,” Giddings continued more confidently. “She promised she would repay me when she found work, but even when she found a place to take her on, they turned her out after only a few days. She didn’t know how to operate mechanical equipment, and the other girls treated her badly because she was so obviously better than they. The experience completely broke her spirit.”

“So you gave her some more money,” Frank said. “And eventually you became lovers.”

“No man had ever been kind to her before,” Giddings explained anxiously. “She fell in love with me! I was all she had in the world. How could a man resist such a temptation?”

“How indeed,” Frank agreed solemnly. “I expect any decent man would’ve done the same in your position.”

Giddings had the grace to flush and look ashamed. Frank enjoyed his humiliation for a moment before returning to the business at hand.

“Did she ask you to divorce your wife and marry her?” he asked.

“My wife would never consent to a divorce. The scandal…”

“Your wife wouldn’t have to consent, and we both know it, Giddings,” Frank said brutally. “You didn’t want a divorce because the scandal would hurt your business.”

“I have a son to think of,” Giddings tried. “I couldn’t ruin his life.”

“So you paid her off,” Frank guessed.

“Her demands were small at first. She had simple needs, she said. But then…”

“Then she found out she was with child,” Frank supplied.

Giddings looked up in genuine terror. “I couldn’t allow my family to find out! Or my partners! Our clients wouldn’t tolerate immoral behavior from a member of the firm.”

“So you paid her to keep silent.”

“But it was never enough! She kept wanting more and more. She thought I was rich, but I’m not. I earn a comfortable living, but I have a family to support and a home and servants and-”

“Where did you get the extra money, then?” Frank asked.

He rubbed his forehead again. Thinking about all of this was obviously painful for him. “I did nothing illegal,” he said after a moment.

“Would other people agree with that?” Frank asked mildly.

Giddings pressed his lips together until they turned white, refusing to reply.

“Well, then, suppose you tell me what law firm employs you so I can find out if they agree that you didn’t do anything illegal.”

“They’ll tell you nothing,” he insisted. “Attorneys know they don’t have to tell the police anything.”

This was true, much to the frustration of the police, but Frank figured he’d try anyway. If they were angry enough at Giddings, they might just enjoy betraying him. Or maybe someone at the firm enjoyed good old-fashioned gossip.

“Where were you night before last?” Frank asked.

Giddings refused to meet Frank’s eye. “At home in bed, I’m sure.”

“You can prove that?”

“I don’t have to prove it!”

“You do if I decide to charge you with Anna Blake’s murder,” Frank said. “Now do you have any witnesses that you were home all night?”

“My… my wife,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Then I’m sure she’ll be glad to vouch for you.”

From the expression on Giddings’s face, Frank could see that he wasn’t sure his wife would do any such thing. If she were angry enough, she might even lie to implicate him. Of course, if she was as afraid of scandal as Frank figured she was, she’d probably lie to protect him, no matter how much she hated him for betraying her. And there was always the issue of financial security to consider. If Giddings went to prison or was executed, who would support his wife? Many women would resign themselves to living with an unfaithful murderer if the alternative was starvation.

“Is it really necessary for you to talk to my wife?” Giddings asked.

“I could wait a few days to see if we find the killer… assuming, of course, that it isn’t you.”

“I would appreciate such a consideration,” Giddings said with surprising meekness for an attorney.

“Do you have a card? So I can get in touch with you,” Frank asked. A printed card would have Giddings’s true address on it, so he wouldn’t have to take the man’s word. He didn’t want to lose him now that he’d had the good fortune to find him.

Giddings fished around absently in his coat pocket and produced an engraved business card for Smythe, Masterson and Judd, Attorneys at Law. Impressive-sounding name, but Frank didn’t recognize it, which meant they probably didn’t involve themselves in criminal prosecutions.

“May I go now?” Giddings asked.

“Are you going to tell your wife that your mistress is dead?” Frank asked. “I’m sure she’ll be very relieved.”

Giddings refused to reply. He had a little pride left.

But Frank had no more patience. “Get out of here,” he said, and Giddings fled.

Sarah waited until Malloy had safely led Mr. Giddings into the bedroom and closed the door before emerging from the parlor. She thought perhaps Mr. Walcott had forgotten about her in all the excitement. Indeed, he looked surprised when she said, “Do you mind if I use your convenience?”

He needed a moment to place her and another to register her request. At least he didn’t seem overly embarrassed by it. “I… of course not. It’s…” He gestured vaguely toward the back of the house.

Sarah thanked him and breathed a silent sigh of relief that the house apparently didn’t have an indoor convenience, since she only needed an excuse to go wandering around the rear of the house alone. She made her way quickly down the hallway to the kitchen, where she had expected to find the maid. Instead she found Catherine Porter. She was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea. At the sight of Sarah, she frowned.

“Are you looking for something?” she asked.

Before Sarah could answer, the maid came slamming in the back door. “I’m telling you, I ain’t going back into that cellar until Mr. Walcott does something about that smell! It’s a dead rat, I’m that sure,” she was saying, and then she saw Sarah and caught herself up short. “Something I can do for you, miss?”

Sarah smiled at her good fortune at finding both of them together. “I was going to ask if you could help me find Miss Porter,” she said. “Do you mind if I sit down with you for a few minutes?” she asked Catherine.

“Oh, no, miss,” the maid answered for her, to Catherine’s obvious annoyance. “Could I get you some tea?” She was young and apparently inexperienced. Sarah could probably get her to talk easily. Catherine Porter, on the other hand, already looked suspicious.

“I would love some tea,” Sarah said, undaunted, taking a seat at the table.

Catherine Porter looked at her through weary, red-rimmed eyes. Her face was drawn and dark circles had formed beneath her eyes. She’d pulled her thick, dark hair carelessly back with a tattered ribbon. Her dress was old and faded, one she would have saved for wearing around the house. She fingered the worn collar self-consciously when she saw Sarah looking at it.

“You’re that woman who came with Mr. Ellsworth the other day,” Catherine said as the maid poured Sarah’s tea. “Are you his wife?”

Sarah realized that, like Anna Blake, Catherine Porter was also older than her usual manner of dress would indicate. Certainly old enough to be feeling the urgency to marry before her looks faded along with her chances of catching a suitable husband. If that was actually her goal.

“Oh, no, I’m not his wife,” Sarah said. “He’s a neighbor of mine, and he’d asked me to meet Miss Blake.”

“I guess his wife’s too upset to even think about coming around here,” Catherine said.

“She would be, if she existed, but Mr. Ellsworth isn’t married,” Sarah said, a little confused.

“He’s not?” Catherine seemed genuinely surprised, and then grew even more suspicious. “Did he send you here? What do you want from me? I don’t know anything about Anna.”