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Fackery Axe, sir. And she warn’t doin’ no minin’ of any sort.”
    Cowperthwait sighed. “Pray, continue.”
    “Wurl. One evenin’ aroun’ seven, just as the gells was finishin’ their day by receivin’ their nightly strappado, in busts these two wimmen. One’s an older lady with the pinchy face of a do-gooder, so’s I know I’m in for trouble right away. The other ’peared to be much younger, but I couldn’t be sure, for she had a veil ’crost her face. And not no lacey thing either, but a piece of muslin with eye-holes in it.
    “Next thing I knows, the older bitch—parm me, sir, lady—had me good arm what was holdin’ the whip doubled up behind me back, fit to snap. Gord, she was a strong un!
    “‘Sisters,’ she says, ‘I’m a-here to offer any of you what wants it sanctuary at my school. Which of you will come with me?’ Next thing I knows, all my gells is hollerin’ and shoutin’, ‘Me, me, I’ll go, take me!’ Even me own two daughters joined in the tragic chorus.”
    Shortarm paused to sniffle and wipe a tear away. “I can tell you, guv’nor, it hurt me deep inside. To think of all the attention and money and high-quality wittles I done lavished on those gells, and then to have ’em turn on me like that. It cut me to the quick.”
    “Nails, I fail to see what any of this has to do with our search. . . .”
    “Hold on, Coz, it’s comin’.” McGroaty prodded Shortarm, who resumed his tale.
    “The elder gell turns to the one in the veil then and says, ‘Vicky, escort the wimmen to the carriages.’ When my shop is empty, she boots me headfirst against the wall. I didn’t wake up for half an hour, and there was no way of tracin’ ’em by then.”
    A thrill had shot along Cowperthwait’s nerves at the name of the assistant rescuer. Trying not to betray his eagerness, he fumbled in his purse to reward the sweatshop owner, coming up with a five-pound note.
    “Gord, a fiver! Thank’ee kindly, sir. This’ll be more’n enough to replenish my workforce, so to speak.” Shortarm turned to leave, then halted. “Oh, if you find my gells, you’re a-welcome to the older one. She’s kinder used up. But as for the younger—” Shortarm smacked his lips obscenely.
    Cowperthwait shot to his feet. “Nails, eject this brute before I give him a good thrashing!”
    McGroaty picked up Shortarm by his trousers and shirt. “Them’s the words I been waitin’ to hear, Coz!”
    When McGroaty returned from tossing Shortarm out, Cowperthwait was pacing his study, rubbing his hands together. He stopped and grabbed McGroaty by the arm.
    “Nails, it all makes sense! The Queen, frustrated by the glacial pace of her government and her remoteness from her subjects, has joined forces with a private benefactress, and now seeks to remedy the ills of her empire firsthand! It’s a noble attempt and speaks well of her character, but we must find her and persuade her that she can do more good from her throne.”
    McGroaty rubbed his whiskery chin thoughtfully. “Ackshully, Coz, it shouldn’t be too hard. I can’t imagine any sech school as can house dozens of gals can remain much of a secret from its neighbors.”
    “Precisely, Nails. Let us begin our enquiries.”
    By that very afternoon McGroaty’s inspired ferreting had met with success. Cowperthwait clutched in his clammy hand a pasteboard bearing a name and address in nearby Kensington:
    LADY OTTOLINE CORNWALL’S LYCEUM AND GYNOCRATIC MISSION
    NUMBER TWELVE NOTTING HILL GATE
    EDUCATION, LIBERATION, VINDICATION
    “SORORAE SE FACIUNT ID”—SAPPHO
    Cowperthwait hurriedly snatched up a large maple cane from the stand by the door. “Come, Nails, let us be off while it is still light out.”
    McGroaty eyed the cane dubiously. “Is that a plain walkin’ stick, or some new infernal device, Coz?”
    Cowperthwait chuckled. “The latter, I fear, Nails. Observe.” Cowperthwait opened a breach in the cane, revealing a large-caliber shell. “The