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extra strength would come in a rush. Just for a split second, as you pitted your life against your assailant’s, you would be mad, Samuel.’
    The Goldsmith pursed his lips. ‘I’m afraid I cannot agree. In such a situation I would remain in full possession of my faculties.’
    â€˜Like a drunk who considers himself sober?’
    â€˜No, not like that at all,’ Samuel answered irritably.
    They had traversed the path leading to St Luke’s and were now standing outside a high and substantial brick wall, beyond which lay the hospital. Looking up, John saw that every window in the place was barred by iron grilles and that the door in the wall, complete with wicket, was equally well fortified.
    â€˜Appears to be more of a prison than a place of treatment,’ he remarked.
    Samuel shivered dramatically. ‘I can just imagine what goes on behind those windows. Scenes from a nightmare, I dare swear.’
    The Apothecary rolled his eyes. ‘Well, be of stout heart, my friend. You are about to find out. Now remember, look neither to the right nor left of you, or you may never come out again.’
    Samuel appeared fractionally startled, then gave a hearty guffaw and clapped John on the shoulder. ‘Ho, ho, what a wit!’ And with that he leaned across his friend and tugged the bellrope, which distantly echoed with a hollow and somehow sinister sound.
    â€˜I told you,’ said John, smiling unevenly, a characteristic of his.
    They waited in silence, listening as chains and bolts were undone; this sound followed by footsteps crossing the few yards that lay between the hospital and the wall. Then a small window opened in the wicket and a pair of nervous, pale grey eyes shifted uneasily from side to side, regarding them.
    â€˜Who is calling?’ asked a muffled voice.
    â€˜John Rawlings and Samuel Swann, visiting on behalf of Mr Fielding of the Public Office, Bow Street. We would like to see Dr Crow, if that is possible.’
    â€˜This is not one of Dr Crow’s days,’ the voice replied. ‘Mr Burridge is in charge.’
    â€˜Then may we see him?’
    â€˜I will enquire. If you would like to step into the waiting room.’ There was a further dragging of bolts, and then the wicket opened to reveal the figure of a small tremulous being, badly afflicted by what appeared to be some form of palsy, for he shook uncontrollably as he ushered the visitors inside. John took him to be a former inmate, sufficiently recovered to carry out simple tasks.
    Beyond the gate, the Apothecary saw that the wall widened out in a semicircle to encompass a pleasant garden, in which several people were already sitting, taking the morning sun. Overlooking them were two warders, one male, one female, the last wearing a striped dress similar to that found on the victim. The man had on a dark blue jerkin and breeches, very plain and serviceable. As John passed close by, going into the main building, several of the inmates looked up, one particularly catching his attention, for she was utterly beautiful, lacking only the divine spark of sanity to make her incomparable. Fair hair, fine as flax, blew untidily round a magnificently boned face, its contours so perfect that it looked to have been carved by a master sculptor. Full and passionate lips curled above a small chin. But the girl’s eyes, a shade of dazzling blue, had no expression in them whatsoever. A dead soul was peeping out and regarding the Apothecary, and it made him shiver as he walked into the shadowy confines of St Luke’s Hospital for Poor Lunatics.
    Though efforts had been made to brighten the place, no doubt by the wives of those Christian souls who had founded the asylum, nothing could combat the terrible feeling of despair which pervaded the entire atmosphere. Sitting uncomfortably in the small room into which they had been shown, John and Samuel regarded one another dismally. From a distance, like the murmur of the